Night Rounds (11 page)

Their sex life was suffering. Suffering? Nonexistent! It must have been at least two weeks since they’d last had the chance to make love. Krister was often too tired. And, to be honest, she was often much too busy at work. But she was always too busy at work. The unbidden memory of the reporter Höök’s mischievous, glittering blue eyes under a shock of blond hair came into her mind’s eye. He was certainly very charming, that reporter, and he even resembled Krister, just ten years younger. With the kind of energy Höök gave off, he’d never be too tired to.…

The last time she glanced at the clock before she finally fell asleep, it was ten after eleven, and Krister still had not come home.

Chapter 10

S
NORES WERE RATTLING
the windows at 6:34
A.M
. when Irene realized that she was awake for good. Krister was on his back, sleeping with his right arm thrown over his head. Sammie was also lying on his back at the foot of the bed, and he was also snoring, though not as loudly as his master. When Irene got up to put on her jogging clothes, Sammie squirmed up to the warm spot she’d left behind. You can’t wake up a sleeping dog, he seemed to say, but Irene saw that he did look at her through half-open eyes.

It was still raining, although not as hard as yesterday. She pulled her nylon rainwear over her jogging suit. Jogging was not her favorite sport in this kind of weather, but it was the easiest and fastest first thing in the morning. A rainy Saturday before 7:00
A.M
. should guarantee peace on the bike trail down to Fiskebäck’s boat marina.

As she started, her right knee ached from an old injury, but as she went on, it loosened up and the pain disappeared. The rain lashed her face and began to soak through her cap. Her mind was beginning to clear from its morning drowsiness, and she felt her heart pump oxygen-rich blood into her system. Once she reached the harbor, she turned and jogged up past the summer cabins. She made her way through the elegant mansion area and from there onto Stora Fiskebäcksvägen. She imagined that most people in those apartments were still sleeping, although she could see the shimmer of TV screens behind a few curtains. Small children were probably sitting and watching videos so that their parents could sleep in. After she passed Björnekulla, she continued to Berga, and then turned toward home. A six-mile run was certainly long enough.

SHE FORCED
S
AMMIE
outside to pee before she went to take a shower. As the warm water streamed over her, she felt rewarded for her hard work in the cold rain. She wrapped a towel around her hair and walked naked and steaming into the bedroom. Krister was awake, his eyes partly shut against the light coming through the hallway’s skylight. Irene lifted her arms to slowly rub her wet hair with the towel. This trick was amazing for shaping breast contours. One could say it was low-budget plastic surgery. The trick had the desired effect on her husband. When she crept back into bed with him, she could tell plainly that he thought she was the sexiest woman on the planet.

THEY DID MAJOR
grocery shopping later. When they came home again, Krister whipped up a fantastic lunch: a shrimp stew with the delightful aroma of garlic, wild rice, and a salad on the side. It more than made up for the lost dinner the night before. A piece of chocolate and coffee finished it off. Full and content, Irene looked at Krister from her sofa perch. He’d been her husband for fifteen years now. Krister had sunk deep into his armchair, his head resting on the back and his eyes shut. His reddish blond hair was thinning, and more of his forehead was visible. Around his eyes were new crow’s feet. He’d always laughed easily, so she could consider them laugh lines. In just three years, he’d turn fifty, one of life’s greatest milestones.

In the beginning she’d fallen for his wonderful smile, and it was still the heartwarming and mischievous smile it had always been. He was one inch taller than she was. In his opinion he was still fit from years juggling heavy restaurant pots, but he probably should have added some training at the gym. He’d put on close to fifty pounds the last few years, and his waistline showed it. A wave of love washed over her. She got up, went to him, and kissed him gently on the forehead while settling onto his lap. Luckily, she hadn’t gained weight at all after she’d had the twins. Her lips touched his cheek as she said softly, “What are you thinking about?’

He sighed and opened his eyes. “The meaning of life. Is this what it’s all about? Coming home absolutely exhausted? Today there are so many unemployed folks aching for a chance to work, while those who have jobs are working themselves to death.”

“I have to agree with you. Those poor nurses at Löwander Hospital are wearing themselves out, but the hospital keeps cutting staff. The ones still on the job are just getting older and more worn out, while the young folks today want to study media or music. The dream jobs seem to be hosting for a music channel or actress on a soap opera.”

Krister laughed. “Someone in charge has made a real mess of things.”

“What do you think the twins will want to be?” asked Irene.

Krister thought a moment. “Katarina will probably be a gym teacher or a jujitsu instructor, if you could make a living at that. She’ll probably do languages. Jenny probably will focus on music. Maybe she’ll be a veterinarian, though she doesn’t have the grades for it—you need a fairly high grade-point average to get into vet programs. Or she’ll start farming vegetables.”

His mood grew darker at the thought.

“So you’re not thrilled with her becoming a vegan.”

“Hell, no. I’m a culinary professional. We’ve always had good, well-balanced meals in this household.”

Irene understood that Krister was taking Jenny’s veganism very hard. She tried to comfort him. “It’s probably just a phase.”

“I certainly hope so,” he grumbled.

• • •

LATER THAT AFTERNOON
Krister headed off to the restaurant. Sammie showed that he had to go, and there was nothing else for Irene to do but go back outside in the rain. When they returned, Sammie was wet through and through, so Irene thought she’d just as well give him a bath. It had been a while, and he was starting to smell. After the usual fight, the bathroom was soaked, so Irene decided it was a good time to clean it. The kitchen floor also needed a thorough scrubbing, but perhaps it would be better to vacuum the whole house first. She was not often hit by the urge, but today, as she felt crumbs crunching underfoot, she was seized by cleaning mania. Not to mention the piles of laundry stacking up; it was hard to imagine how high they’d get once the twins returned the next day and unpacked after their ski vacation. And the heap of ironing had become gigantic. But there Irene drew the line. Those who needed something ironed would just have to do it themselves.

Even though Jenny and Katarina cleaned their rooms themselves as part of their allowance agreement, Irene decided she’d still vacuum in there to catch the biggest dust bunnies. Sammie was cowering beneath Katarina’s bed, so she didn’t send the hose under there. Although he happily fought cats and badgers up at their summer cabin in Värmland, he was scared to death of the vacuum cleaner. He wouldn’t come out until it was put away again.

She did vacuum under Jenny’s bed. The vacuum cleaner hit something, and a large, gray rolled-up poster came out. Curious, Irene peeked into it. She could see handwritten red letters:
SLAUGHTER IS TORTURE
. She shook out the contents, four handwritten posters with various slogans:
DON’T USE ANIMAL-TESTED PRODUCTS! SPRAY-PAINT FUR COATS! EAT MEAT = EAT CORPSES!

Irene sank down onto Jenny’s bed. There was a sticker on one of the posters bearing the initials ALF. Like most police officers, she knew that ALF stood for Animal Liberation Front. It appeared that Jenny was not only a vegan refusing animal products for ethical reasons, but that she was also an animal-rights activist. Irene remembered that the shop selling fur coats in the center of Göteborg had had its windows smashed and all the fur coats on display spray-painted. Had Jenny been a part of that?

“Give me strength. What am I supposed to do now?” she said out loud to herself.

As she looked inside the roll again, she saw a smaller piece of paper. She pulled it out and smoothed it down.

It was obviously a hand-drawn map. On the top was written “Liberation Zoo FS.” Irene sat for a moment studying the map and suddenly put it all together—the pet-store break-in at Frölunda Square. She got up resolutely and went to the phone in the hallway.

She called a few colleagues in the Västra district and finally found out what had happened.

On the morning of January 27, a report had been filed concerning a pet store at Frölunda Square. The owner had just opened the shop and had gone into the storeroom to get food for the animals. When he came back out, a youth wearing a black hoodie ran out the door. The owner tried to catch him, but he got away through the square’s automatic glass doors. There was an old VW bus outside the building. Its engine was running, and its license plate was covered with mud. It shot away toward Tynnered. The police had not found the perpetrator, the bus, or Putte, the dwarf rabbit that had been the only animal stolen.

Jenny could hardly have been involved in this so-called liberation. She didn’t declare herself to be a vegan until two weeks later. She’d still been happily eating hot dogs and chicken at the time of Putte’s rabbit-napping. But why would Jenny have these posters and this map under her bed? Irene decided that it was clear there’d have to be a serious talk with her daughter once she’d returned.

She finished her cleaning halfheartedly, her thoughts elsewhere.

IRENE WAS WATCHING
the news on TV when the phone rang. She put down the plate of microwaved leftover shrimp strew. She had a feeling she knew who was calling and felt a twinge of guilt. She was right.

“Hi, Irene, it’s Mama. It’s been a while since I heard from you.”

Irene made the usual excuses: too much work, too much stuff to do, she’d planned to call.

Her mother would soon be seventy but was still energetic and healthy. She hadn’t married again after Irene’s father passed away ten years earlier. They agreed that Irene would come over for Sunday lunch before she’d have to go get the twins from the central train station at 4:30
P.M
.

She’d barely finished her cooled off leftovers before the phone rang again.

“Hi, Huss. It’s me, Lund.”

Her former colleague and old friend Håkan Lund, now superintendent of Central Station, had never called her at home before. Irene managed to hide her surprise as she said, “Hi. Nice to hear your friendly voice.”

“Same here, but that’s not why I called. We just received a call from Löwander Hospital. There’s been a fire on the grounds. Apparently some kind of garden shed. I couldn’t contact your duty officer … let me see … Hans Borg. Since I know that you’re involved in the murdered-nurse case over there, I thought you might want to know.”

Andersson had obviously forgotten that Hans Borg had weekend duty when he’d sent him home, and Borg’s name was still up. Not surprising. With Jonny out, too, there was a lot to keep track of. Irene debated for a moment what to do.

“Thanks for calling, Håkan. I’ll head out to the hospital right away.”

“Okay Hope this helps.”

WHEN IRENE ARRIVED
, the fire was out. The fire truck was parked in front of the building and the hose had been dragged around the perimeter, but the firemen were already winding it up. Irene spotted the fire chief a moment before he was about to drive away. She ran up to his red Volvo and knocked on the window.

“What do you want?” The chief had a deep, warm voice with a touch of a Scanian accent.

“Hi, I’m Criminal Inspector Irene Huss, and I’m working on the case of the nurse murdered here earlier this week.”

“I read about that.”

“What happened? Was anyone injured?”

“No, no one is hurt. There was no one in the shed when it caught fire. We got here quickly, but it was thanks to the guys in the patrol car the whole thing didn’t go up in smoke.”

“They called in the alarm?”

“Yes, it seems they were looking for someone. As they got near the shed, they saw the fire. One of the guys ran back to the car and gave the alarm. Then he brought the tiny fire extinguisher from the patrol car. It’s not much, but it was better than nothing.”

“And you made sure no one was in the shed.”

“Right. There was just a heap of trash inside that was on fire.”

“Do you think it was set?”

“Hard to say, but I believe it was. The fire inspectors should be able to give you an answer, but they won’t be here until early tomorrow morning. Right now it’s still too hot to go inside.”

Irene thanked him. The fire truck started its engine with a deafening rumble, and both vehicles disappeared through the front gate. After they left, the silence was palpable. Irene got her flashlight and walked toward the park behind the hospital building. It was spooky to have the large, dark building behind her. A hospital should be a hive of activity, not a monument of black silence. I imagine Nurse Tekla is making her night rounds now, Irene thought with a grimace in the darkness.

As she rounded the building, the smell of smoke became heavy, almost suffocating. She switched on her flashlight and walked toward the overgrown garden. At the opening made by the wild lilac arbor, she turned. If Mama Bird had been standing in this spot, she would have clearly seen a person entering the hospital building, but what about when the person left? It must have been pitch-black after the electricity went out. Wait a minute. Of course, the moon, she thought. There had been a full moon that night. Siv Persson swore she’d seen Nurse Tekla in the bright moonlight. Irene shivered. All this talk of ghosts was starting to get on her nerves.

She shone the beam of her flashlight directly through the arbor. The garden shed was still standing but appeared to be burned out. Irene tried to peer inside, but it was hopeless. Everything was black as soot. Better to let the technicians look at the residue in the morning. There was nothing she could do now. The lawn sucked at her rubber boots as she squelched back to her car.

She pulled off her muddy boots and changed to her jogging shoes from the trunk. If the weather was going to stay like this, she wouldn’t want to go jogging. She’d have to exercise indoors instead. Tomorrow she taught a women’s group, something she enjoyed. She’d been training eight female officers in jujitsu for the past year. The suggestion had come up at last year’s annual meeting, and having Irene lead the class was a given. There was no other female black belt, third dan, in Sweden. Without giving it a second thought, Irene took on the job. Sometimes she brought Katarina with her and used her as an assistant trainer. Her pupils had been extremely hardworking, and the way they were going, they’d soon be on a par with the men.