Irene replied quickly, “Maybe there’s a simple explanation. Perhaps it wasn’t von Knecht who put the wash in the machine, but our killer. Could I change the subject from the fingerprints and ask what kind of medicine bottles Sylvia von Knecht has in her drawer in the nightstand?”
Malm leafed through his papers. “Here it is. Four bottles of Stesolid, five milligrams. One was almost empty, the others unopened. Two bottles of Sobril, fifteen milligrams. One just started, the other unopened. One bottle of Rohypnol, one milligram, which was almost used up.”
Fredrik looked at a loss and asked, “What sort of medicines are those?”
“Stesolid and Sobril are sedatives. Rohypnol is a soporific. The prescriptions were written by three different doctors. I’m no doctor or expert, but it’s obvious that there’s a drug abuse problem here,” said Svante Malm.
The upshot of the rest of the technician’s report was that they hadn’t found anything noteworthy. Strands of hair and textile fibers had been cataloged, but since the apartment was extremely well cleaned they hadn’t found large quantities. Some hairs had already been identified as belonging to guests on Saturday night. Malm asked Hannu to take a hair from Pirjo’s hairbrush, and to ask Marjatta for a few of hers. There was a good chance that the hairs found in the pantry in front of the cleaning closet belonged to the mother and daughter. Saturday’s guests from Stockholm and Helsinki had to be contacted. He wound up his report, “The double bed upstairs had just been changed. Clean towels in the bathroom, but not in the sauna. There we found the towel that von Knecht had used.”
Irene thought about this. Finally she said aloud, “I don’t know how it is with you guys when you’re home with a cold, but I know how it is with my husband. He almost never gets sick, but if he gets the slightest cold he acts like he’s about to die. Used tissues all over the nightstand. Water glasses, bouillon cups, and snacks. Cough drop wrappers, newspapers, and other reading material all over the floor. Especially once he starts feeling better. But we haven’t found any sign of a mess from Richard von Knecht. It was clinically clean. I mean, he was home alone with a cold for a day after Pirjo and her daughter cleaned up after the party. He didn’t leave the apartment until one o’clock on Tuesday when he went out to Johanneshus with Valle Reuter.”
A thoughtful silence descended over the gathering. After a bit of self-examination most of them nodded in agreement.
Jonny snorted. “It doesn’t get like that at my place. My wife keeps it clean.”
“Precisely! She picks up after you. That’s exactly what I think happened with Richard too! He comes home to a shining clean apartment after his lunch with Valle. The bed is newly made, the towels changed, and the washing machine is running. No doubt the rooms he has been in for the past twenty-four hours have been vacuumed. The vacuum bag! Svante, did you find anything in it?”
“No. Just changed. Completely empty.”
“Then it’s possible that both the bag and the trash were dumped in the trash room. If it was the murderer who was in there. So far none of the other residents has admitted to being in the trash room at that time.”
Andersson had to interrupt. “But von Knecht must have noticed that it had been cleaned again. It stank of Ajax when we came in the door several hours later!”
“Yes, he must have been prepared for it. Used to it.”
The implications of this caused yet another thoughtful silence to descend.
“You mean that the killer cleaned the place before the murder?” Andersson looked dubious.
Irene shrugged. “Not necessarily the killer. But perhaps. At any rate someone wanted to remove all traces of being in the apartment. The careful cleaning that was done couldn’t have been done after the murder. It must have taken a couple of hours.”
Andersson was so excited that his ears were glowing. He exploded, “That can’t be right! Nobody would let someone in to erase all traces that he had been in the apartment. And then go out and eat a huge lunch-? Then home to his lovely sauna and whiskey and calmly let himself be knocked on the head by the party concerned! Anyway, there were no signs that two people had taken a sauna and spent a cozy time together.” He stopped to catch his breath.
Tommy Persson saw his chance to interject, “Wait a minute. I think Irene is on the right track. Could it be like this: Von Knecht let Pirjo in to clean! After what?”
Jonny lit up. “An orgy! That’s obvious. His wife was away, after all.”
Birgitta couldn’t pass up the opportunity. “Don’t judge everyone else by your own behavior!”
Andersson’s ears began to pale a little; he looked from Tommy to Irene. “Pirjo? Sure, why not? One idea is no more nuts than any other. But it doesn’t really fit. Why should she come back the day after she did a major cleaning? On the other hand, it explains why von Knecht was alone when he came home. She had already left. Hannu and Birgitta, you have to find Pirjo!”
Hannu made a calming gesture. Irene remembered something else she wanted to ask about.
“Svante, were there any sandwiches in the refrigerator? Sylvia told me that Richard was going to buy two sub sandwiches for supper.”
“No, it was almost empty. A little cheese and some eggs. A few beers and pickled herring. No fresh food.”
“I see. He told Sylvia on the phone when they spoke on Tuesday that he was going to bring home two subs, but I guess he forgot. They vanished in the alcohol and eucalyptus vapors,” she surmised dryly.
Malm nodded and went on, “If we move on to the fire site on Berzeliigatan, there is no doubt that it was caused by a firebomb. I spoke with arson investigator Pelle Svensson and he says there are definite traces of a large bomb. From what they’ve found so far, it seems to have been a devilish variant, a thick iron pipe filled with plastique. Apparently det cord was connected between the bomb and the gasoline cans.”
“How was the bomb detonated?”
“Pelle promised to let me know about that tomorrow. The proof hadn’t been secured yet, but he has a theory. That’s all he would tell me.”
“And the body that was found?”
“We don’t know much about the man yet. Stridner promised to look at him early tomorrow morning. They told me at Pathology that she’s busy with a scientific symposium in forensic medicine. And the other pathologists are there too.”
Now it was Birgitta’s turn to ask a question. “What’s det cord?”
“Detonator cord. Most people who’ve been in the military know about it. Let me put it this way: If you wind this fuse around an ordinary pine tree and trigger the detonator, the fuse explodes and splits the trunk. Explosive fuse, you might call it.”
He sat down. A general surge of ideas and questions resulted, but they didn’t seem to be getting much farther. At nine o’clock the superintendent decided to adjourn.
“Okay. Let’s go home and get some shut-eye. We need to be clear headed all day tomorrow. You all know what you have to do tomorrow?”
They muttered and nodded.
“I’ll be here all day from seven to. . as long as necessary in the evening. As soon as you find out something, give me a call. We’ll all meet here at eight on Monday morning. Weekend duty on Saturday is assigned to Tommy. Backup will be. . Irene. Sunday duty, Hans. Backup will be. . me.”
That was fine with her, Irene realized. Then she’d have Sunday off. On Saturday night she and Krister would have a real cozy evening. Great. Suddenly she noticed how tired she was.
EXCEPT FOR Sammie’s happy snuffling and small yips, it was completely quiet in the house, even though it was only shortly after ten. The dog’s coat was getting shaggy; it was time to have him groomed. But it would have to wait until this investigation was over. Or at least until things calmed down. She felt a pang of guilty conscience. Sammie was a lovely dog, but nobody really had time for him anymore. Everyone had taken on too many work, school, and leisure-time activities. He had his doggy pals, of course, at the dog-sitter’s. To compensate him a little and to soothe her guilty conscience, she took him out on an evening walk.