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She snapped, “According to her it’s not nearly enough!”

“Does Pirjo want a raise?”

“Yes.”

“What does she get per month?”

Again silence. Finally Sylvia said, resigned, “Eighteen hundred.”

“And she wants?. .”

“Two thousand five hundred! Insane!”

“How much will she get?”

“No raise at all! I was utterly shocked!”

Anger made her sound like she was completely alert now. Irene decided to wrap it up on a more neutral subject. “I heard from Henrik that you’re going up to Marstrand over the weekend.”

“That’s right. Nothing wrong with that, I hope.” Her tone said that even if there was, she planned to ignore them.

“Not at all. I just wanted to mention that if anything should turn up, or if you need to contact us, give us a call. The investigative group is always here.”

“Do you work around the clock?”

“No, not really. We have a duty schedule.”

Guardedly they wished each other a nice weekend and hung up. She needed a quick cup of coffee before she called Mona Söder.

“SWEDISH DATA, good morning. How can I help you?” The voice was professional and friendly.

“I’m looking for Personnel Director Mona Söder.”

“Just a moment, please.”

Click, click. A soft whirring to indicate that the signals were actually going through. A smoky and pleasant female voice answered.

“Mona Söder.”

“Good morning. My name is Irene Huss. Detective inspector with the Göteborg Police. I’m working on the investigation of the murder of Richard von Knecht.”

Mona Söder took a deep breath. “I don’t want to get involved! Not now. . not the way things stand right now. We don’t want to have anything to do with him. Are we under suspicion for something?”

“As you no doubt are aware, this is a homicide investigation. We’re going over all the facts about the victim. We discovered that you and Richard von Knecht had a son together in July nineteen sixty-five.”

Quiet sobbing was heard on the line. But only briefly, before Mona Söder sniffed loudly and steadied her voice. “Could we meet in person?”

“Meet? You’re in Stockholm!”

“Yes, I know. But this is important for your investigation. You have to come up here!” It sounded like both an appeal and a command.

“Can’t we do it on the phone?”

“Absolutely not! It’s very important that you come here, because you have to see with your own eyes.”

“I’ll have to talk to my supervisor. The Göteborg Police are on an austerity program, like everyone else.”

“Call me as soon as you know. See you later!”

Irene hung up the phone, impressed. It was obvious that Mona Söder was a woman who was used to telling people what to do.

“WHERE DID you get that idea? Going up to Stockholm! What is it the woman can’t say on the phone?”

“She said she had to show me something. According to her it was very important for the investigation.”

“Show you? Very important?” Andersson put his hands behind his back, a habit from his days on the beat, and paced aimlessly back and forth in the room. Suddenly he stopped in front of Irene, who happened to be sitting in the visitor’s chair. Resolutely he said, “You have to go. It’s the first time in this investigation that anyone has said they have something important to contribute. Check on the train times. Write up a travel requisition, and I’ll make sure you won’t have to front the money for too long. Okay?”

“That should work. But I have to take care of a few practical things first. Jenny is sick at home. Nothing serious, just a cold. Krister is working late tonight. Katarina has to practice for a judo match on Sunday. I’ll call my mother. Just hope she has time. Since she retired, she’s almost never home. You know how it is, ‘When you’re a happy retired person. .’” She sang the last part loudly and off-key.

“Thank you, but I’m actually quite musical. Get going on your trip to Stockholm instead of torturing me,” said Andersson.

“MONA SÖDER, here.”

“Inspector Irene Huss again.”

“Yes, hi. When are you coming?”

That stopped Irene short, but she managed to pull herself together. “I’m taking the X-two-thousand at eleven-oh-five. Arriving in Stockholm just after fourteen hundred.”

“Good. I’ll meet you at Five Small Houses at three P.M.”

“Where are the ‘Five Small Houses’? Is that where you work?” Something about prefab housing came vaguely to mind.

Mona Söder laughed, a warm and pleasant laugh. “No, I work at a computer company. Five Small Houses is a cozy restaurant in Old Town. I’ll buy,” she said.

As if they were old friends. To her surprise Irene discovered that eating a late lunch with Mona Söder seemed like a fun idea. Although being treated might be construed as bribing an official. . There was a risk, so it was probably better to go Dutch.

“Do you know your way around Stockholm?” asked Mona.

“Yes, I lived there for a year, when I was at the police academy out in Ulriksdal. I lived on Tomtebogatan downtown.”

“Go over to Österlånggatan and walk down a few blocks. The restaurant is on Nygränd, one of the cross streets down toward the water.”

“I’m sure it’ll be easy to find.”

They assured each other that it would be nice to meet in just five hours. Irene glanced at the clock. One more hour before the train left. Her mother had promised to drive out to stay with Jenny and Katarina that afternoon. Krister had been informed.

Had she forgotten anything? Nothing that she could think of. She stuck her head in the superintendent’s door to say good-bye, but he wasn’t there.

SINCE THE major renovation a few years ago, Göteborg’s Central Station is quite a beautiful place to visit. The dark, polished woodwork of the walls, benches, and pillars creates a turn-of-the-twentieth-century atmosphere. But the crowded flow of travelers, the stoned junkies, and the winos asleep on the benches are the same as always. The ticket line is the same too, even if nowadays it’s computerized with little paper numbers and digital displays above each ticket window. A glass door separates those waiting patiently for tickets from the people in the waiting rooms and on the platforms.

It took Irene almost half an hour to buy her round-trip ticket. She had to dash out into the biting wind and run full speed for the shiny, silvery blue Intercity train.

It was the first time she had been on an Intercity train. Even before she sat down she knew that she was out of place. She wasn’t wearing a suit or high-heeled shoes, and she carried no briefcase or laptop. In her black jeans, her down-filled poplin jacket, and her red wool sweater she felt like a total misfit. A woman in a masculine-looking gray pin-striped suit, complementing her pageboy haircut, looked at Irene disapprovingly over the edge of her reading glasses when Irene sat down facing her on the other side of the aisle. The only baggage Irene was carrying was a yellow plastic bag from the newsstand with snacks and newspapers. Since she didn’t even own a handbag and never had, most of what she needed in her daily life she kept in her jacket pockets. They bulged unaesthetically. She decided to pretend there was a fax machine in her right pocket and a palm computer in the left.

She gave the woman in the suit a radiant smile and sat down. That’s the most effective way to startle people: They think you’re crazy and instantly avert their eyes. She demonstratively opened up GT and read about the attempts of her investigative group to solve the von Knecht case. The papers still didn’t know about Pirjo Larsson’s disappearance or the fact that von Knecht had another son. It was his mother she was going to eat lunch with, after traveling more than five hundred kilometers.