The Postcard Killers (19 page)

Sara Höglund looked distinctly pleased.

“That business with the shadow worked very well,” she said.

“A shame we made it up,” Jacob said. “Otherwise we really would have a case. Anyway, it’s a start.”

“Now we just have to hope that they get tangled up in their various lies and explanations,” the head of the crime unit said.

The theme music to the 4:45
Eko
news bulletin came over the radio, and Mats Duvall turned up the volume.

The lead story was the “questionable arrest” of the two American art students traveling through Sweden.

The newsreader’s voice sounded stuffy and pompous.

“According to reports received by
Dagens Eko,
the suspects have solid alibis for several of the murders in Europe. Video recordings from security cameras in the Grand Hôtel show that the Dutch couple were
still alive
when the brother and sister left them on Wednesday afternoon…”

The air in the room had turned to ice.

Obviously, someone in, or very close to, the investigation had talked to the press.

No one looked at anyone else. They all just stared straight ahead or down at the table.

Dessie felt a sense of unease creeping up her spine.

She was the one whom these detectives would suspect of leaking information. And because it was against the law for the authorities to investigate the media’s sources, no one would ask her straight out, but she knew what they were thinking. She was the journalist, the outsider, the one who was the most likely to be disloyal.

From now on, she wouldn’t be welcome here, that much was clear to her.

The superintendent’s face stiffened into a mask that grew more rigid the longer the broadcast went on.

The chair of the Swedish Bar Association gave a statement, seriously criticizing the fact that “the two American youngsters” hadn’t been given a lawyer until late this afternoon, a whole day after they were taken into custody.

Sara Höglund was quoted saying in an irritated voice that the investigation was proceeding — a sound bite that was probably taken from the very last minutes of the press conference, when she had already answered the same question umpteen times.

Then the
Dagens Eko
bulletin turned its attention to criticism of the media.

The newsreader’s voice was full of indignation as he trumpeted the next item.

“In a letter that has received harsh criticism, a newspaper reporter at
Aftonposten,
Dessie Larsson, attempted to buy an interview with the suspected killers.

“For one hundred thousand dollars, almost a million kronor, she wanted to secure an exclusive interview with the American youths. The chair of the Journalists Federation, Anita Persson, considers the development a scandal that should be investigated.”

Dessie felt the floor sway beneath her. Her mouth went dry and her pulse was racing.

“Dessie Larsson has brought shame on the entire profession,” Anita Persson said over the radio. “She should be expelled from the Journalists Federation right away.”

The author and journalist Hugo Bergman was next to be interviewed. He added to the criticism, saying that Dessie Larsson was “a lightweight” and “a useless journalist.”

Everyone in the room turned to look at Dessie.

Hugo Bergman clearly didn’t like being spurned when he had paid for wine and dinner at a fancy restaurant, she thought. It was a hell of a price to pay for mashed potatoes.

Dessie stood up and went toward the door.

“I’m not even a member of the Journalists Federation,” she said.

Jacob followed her out through the door.

Chapter 84

DESSIE COULD SEE THE SATELLITE dishes on the television crews’ vans, some of which had come all the way from Götgatan. What a waste of time, money, and gas.

The media storm had settled right outside her door, blocking the whole of Urvädersgränd. She stopped, her bicycle beside her, and stared at the crowd.

Jacob caught up with her and let out a quiet whistle.

There were unfamiliar figures with huge microphones and colleagues she had met at the Association of Professional Newspapermen, photographers with long lenses, and radio reporters who looked like giant beetles with their broadcast antennas mounted on their backs.

“Impressive,” Jacob said drily. “You must be the hottest date in town.”

“I can’t go in there,” she said.

“They’ll go home when they get hungry,” Jacob said. “Come on, let’s go and get something to eat in the meantime.”

They headed toward Mariatorget. The sky was full of dark clouds; there was rain in the air.

They stopped at a steak house on Sankt Paulsgatan, where Jacob ordered barbecue ribs and Dessie corn on the cob.

“Is that all you’re having?” Jacob said when the food arrived.

“I don’t think I can even get this down,” she said in a quiet voice.

He looked at her with something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was actually worried about her.

“I know you’re finding this unpleasant and unfair,” he said, “but you should know that you did the right thing. You’ve probably already prevented some murders.”

She finished her glass of wine and poured some more.

He put his hand on hers.

“Dessie,” he said, “listen to me, please. Kimmy was killed by these monsters, and you’re one of the reasons they’ve been caught. I thank you for that. I owe you my life.”

Chapter 85

JACOB’S HAND WAS DRY and warm, burning on her skin. She looked up and met his gaze.

“You must have loved her very much,” Dessie said before she could stop herself.

He shut his eyes tightly and squeezed her hand. For a few moments she thought he was going to start crying. She felt terrible for making him suffer like this.

“Yes,” he whispered, weaving his fingers through hers. “Yes, I did. It was just her and me…”

Dessie kept hold of his hand.

He stared out through the window, seemingly losing himself in his memories.

She looked at him and wondered what he was thinking.

“What happened to her mother?”

“Lucy? Yes, I’ve often wondered that, too.”

He pulled back his hand. The air in the restaurant suddenly felt cold on her skin.

He met her eyes and gave a little smile.

“I wasn’t the one who leaked that stuff to the
Dagens Eko,
” she said.

“I know that perfectly well,” he said, emptying his glass. “It was Evert Ridderwall.”

She blinked.

“What makes you say that?”

“He’ll change with the wind,” Jacob said. “He doesn’t have any principles, he just wants to avoid criticism. That leak was a test. He wanted to see what the media think of the Rudolphs.”

His knee ended up between hers under the table.

Neither of them changed position.

“Did you hear who they want as their lawyer?” Dessie said, emptying her second glass of wine. “Andrea Friederichs.”

“And?” Jacob said, filling her glass.

Dessie took a deep sip.

“She isn’t an expert on criminal law. She’s a copyright lawyer. Doesn’t that seem a bit strange to you?”

Chapter 86

THE MEDIA CROWD OUTSIDE Dessie’s front door hadn’t gotten any smaller. It actually seemed bigger. It was starting to resemble the mob that gathers outside courtrooms for notable court cases in New York. Jacob knew all about them. He’d had to fight his way through a phalanx of reporters and microphones on numerous occasions.

“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “I take it they aren’t hungry yet. Nobody’s leaving.”

She was standing close to Jacob, hiding behind him so as not to be seen from the top of the narrow street.

He resisted an impulse to push a strand of hair away from her face.

“I don’t know that I want to see myself darting into a doorway in all the papers and newscasts tomorrow,” she said in a low voice.

“No need,” he said.

She looked at him with her big eyes. He took a deep breath before going on.

“My roommate has gone back to Finland. You can have the lower bunk in my cell on Långholmen. It’s not a problem.”

He said it in a light, joking way, careful not to show any feeling.
It’s not a problem.

She hesitated a few seconds before answering, her eyes still on his.

Then she made up her mind. “Okay,” she said and turned her bicycle around.

It started to rain as they passed the Zinkensdamm metro station, almost halfway to the hostel.

They started walking quickly. Jacob turned up the collar of his suede jacket, but the water still trickled down his back. He shivered in the cold.

“I can give you a ride if you like,” she said. “If you have the guts to get on.”

“On the bike?”

She nodded. “Of course. Only if you dare.”

He sat on the narrow luggage carrier at the back, holding on to her hips with both hands. She set a good pace, and they flew past a large church with two identical spires. Her thighs moved rhythmically and methodically. She was strong and obviously in good shape.

He was suddenly overwhelmed with a memory of Lucy. She had once given him a ride like this in Brooklyn, a hundred years ago, a thousand years ago, before Kimmy, before the drugs and adulthood with all its complications came into the picture and shattered a perfect life for all of them.

He jumped off as Dessie rolled into the parking lot in front of the youth hostel.

“What are the rules?” she asked, taking off her helmet. “Are you allowed lady visitors in your room?”

“I’m not about to ask for permission or about any rules,” Jacob said. “I’m a big boy now.”

“Are you?”

He pulled her to him, her body shaping itself to his. Her hair smelled fresh, like fruit again. He closed his eyes and felt her warmth through his jacket. She breathed lightly against his neck.

Then he kissed her.

She tasted of rain and corn on the cob.

Chapter 87

THEIR CLOTHES ENDED UP in a heap just inside the door of the former prison cell.

They didn’t even make it to the Finn’s lower bunk before she drew him to her. They landed on the floor and he slid into her with no resistance, his eyes catching hers.

He could feel the room starting to spin and had time to think
no, no, no, not yet
before he came inside her with a hoarse roar.

He sank down on top of her, hiding his face in her hair.

Damn, what a failure. Coming after ten seconds. What must she think?

But she kissed his hair as he lay there panting and trying to pull himself together. Then her hips started to move beneath him.

At first he thought she wanted to get up, but when he went to move, she took a firm grip on his buttocks and held him to her, held him right there.

“Relax and go with it,” she whispered in his ear as the swaying beneath him started up again. “Stay with me.”

To his surprise he felt himself getting hard again almost immediately.

He did as she said and allowed himself to be swayed by her rhythmic movements. Her whole body was sucking and pulling him into her, harder and deeper.

He noticed he was starting to breathe heavily and join in, his pulse speeding up and throbbing in his head, and when he felt the dizziness come, he stopped and looked into her eyes. Her gaze was completely unfocused. She wasn’t far off now.

“Come here,” he said in a gravelly voice, pulling out of her and lifting her up onto the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Relax and go with it.”

She stretched out on the lower bunk, her legs hard and sinewy, her stomach soft as velvet and her breasts firm and well shaped. He let his hand glide up along her thighs as he leaned forward to suck one of her nipples. Dessie groaned and her whole body shuddered.

He sucked and licked her entire body, and when he finally pushed inside her again she leaned her head back and yelled. While the contractions were still convulsing her lower body, he felt the rushing noise in his head grow into an explosion that made all sound and vision disappear for him.

When he came to his senses again, he realized he was freezing.

He rolled to one side, sliding out of her. He fumbled for the covers beneath them and pulled them over their bodies.

She looked at him, wide-eyed and surprised.

“Wow,” she said.

Chapter 88

DESSIE WAS STILL ASTONISHED at what had happened.

When she accepted his invitation to stay at his place, she had made up her mind that nothing like
this
was going to happen. Her life was so turbulent just now that a messy affaire was the last thing she needed. Probably the last thing Jacob needed, too.

“Wow?” he replied, and smiled.

Now his eyes were warm again, that crazy blue, completely focused on her.

This really wasn’t good at all. How could it be?

She ought to get up at once and leave and face the damn reporters at her house.

Instead she smiled back.

“Dessie,” he whispered. “Dessie, Dessie, you’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

She felt a warmth spread inside her, out from her stomach, her core.

“Dessie,” he said again, this time in a questioning tone. “What sort of name is that anyway?
Dessie?
”

She cuddled up next to him. He pulled her closer so that she could rest her head on his chest. She let her fingers play on his skin, small, featherlike strokes.

“I was christened Désirée,” she said, “the least known of the Swedish princesses.”

She could see her mother in front of her, Eivor, her dear, sweet mom, born in 1938, the same year as Désirée Elizabeth Sibylla, the second-youngest of the Haga princesses, the “Hagacesses,” daughter of Crown Prince Gustaf Adolf and his wife, Sibylla av Sachsen-Coburg-Gotha. Princess Désirée was Eivor’s great role model, so it was obvious that that was what her daughter would be called.