“I have.”
The superintendent fell into thought for a while. The situation had changed in an instant when they found Pirjo’s body at the fire site.
“You have to keep looking around for facts about Pirjo. Above all we need somebody who can question the children. Will you have a chance to do it tomorrow? We have to follow this lead while it’s hot,” Andersson concluded.
His choice of words was unfortunate. The smell of burned meat was still in his nose. He knew that it was his imagination, but also knew that lunch would have to wait for a while longer.
Hannu closed his notebook with a brief nod. “Right.”
AROUND THREE Andersson began to get hungry and went down to the lunchroom. He bought coffee, two dried-up open-faced cheese sandwiches in plastic, and a marzipan tart. It was an uninspired choice, but it filled his stomach. With the steaming cup of coffee in front of him on the table, he leaned back and tried to relax for a while. Plainclothes and uniformed colleagues filed past his table. Some just greeted him; others stopped and exchanged a few words. Most simply walked on by. Suddenly he became aware that someone had stopped behind him. When he turned his head he saw Birgitta Moberg.
“Hi, have a seat,” he said.
“No thanks. I’m too damned mad to sit down!”
Now he noticed that she was standing with her arms akimbo and her legs rigid and planted wide apart. Her voice was like a viper’s hiss. Even though according to his ex-wife he was about as sensitive as a sawhorse when it came to women’s feelings, he could see that she was furious. Some colleagues at nearby tables stared at them in astonishment. Andersson thought it very unpleasant. Imagine if they thought she was mad at him. She wasn’t, was she? Uncertainly he asked, “Do you think we should go up to the department and talk?”
“Yes.”
She spun around on her heel and strode out the door. With a disappointed sigh the superintendent had to abandon his coffee. It’s important to listen to the personnel when they bring you their problems was something that had been clearly emphasized in that idiotic course he had been forced to take a few years earlier.
“THAT ARROGANT bastard! What a. . prick!”
“Who, me?”
“No! Bobo Torsson!”
The superintendent’s first reaction was relief, the second surprise. Cautiously he asked, “Did he annoy you in some way?”
She exploded completely. With tears gushing from her eyes, she screamed, “Annoy! He shoved me up against the wall, grabbed my crotch, and bit me on the breast! I think I’m going to report him!”
Andersson was totally speechless. It didn’t help matters when Jonny’s irritating voice was heard from the doorway. “So, little Birgitta has been discovered by the big-time fashion photographer! You probably showed him what you had to offer, eh?”
He stood nonchalantly leaning against the doorjamb with a smug grin on his face. Andersson had time to think: That guy has a God damn big mouth.
Then the second explosion came. Half choking with rage, Birgitta snarled, “This is what I had to offer!”
Birgitta shot across the room like an arrow. Jonny reacted too slowly and never saw her knee as she drove it into his crotch. With a muffled moan he collapsed with both hands pressed between his legs. Birgitta said triumphantly, “Personal best! Two guys with blue balls in less than half an hour!”
With her back straight and head held high she climbed over Jonny’s collapsed form and marched out to the corridor. Then Andersson woke up.
“Birgitta! You’re not going anywhere! What the fuck are you playing at? Fighting like little kids! Two police officers!”
Slowly she turned, her face blotched with tears. It was hard to hear what she said, since her voice was quavering so much with emotion. “You don’t understand. I have never in my life been assaulted that way! Maybe as a woman, but never as a professional!”
Andersson’s head started pounding. Jonny was still moaning on the floor but had begun to pull himself up to a sitting position, using the doorjamb as a brace. Some colleagues from General Investigations stopped outside in the corridor, curious. Andersson took a couple of steps across the room and slammed the door with a bang.
“Now sit down! Both of you! This can go to Internal Affairs if you’re not careful!”
Jonny hissed, “That’s fine, I’m going to report her. God damn whore!”
Andersson saw Birgitta turn pale as wax. For a moment he thought she was going to faint. When she spoke again her lips barely moved. “I’ve had enough. That was the last straw!”
She directed her gaze toward Andersson. Usually her brown eyes gleamed and laughed, but now they were like molten lead.
“Ever since I started here I’ve been forced to take it from that idiot. First he tried to grope me, but when I quite clearly explained what I thought of such behavior, the taunting started. That I’ve got ‘round heels.’ An easy lay. You heard it yourself just now: ‘God damn whore.’ I have to put up with ‘playful’ slaps on my butt. I got an interdepartmental envelope that’s full of pictures of huge balls and lesbian couples cut out of porno magazines. I’ve always known that Jonny was behind it, but couldn’t prove it,” she said tonelessly.
“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” Andersson asked in astonishment.
She gave him a weary, crooked smile. “And what would you have done?”
“Well, I. .”
He fell silent, confused. What would he have done? Irritation rose again inside him. There were always problems when women were involved! It was better at the beginning of his career-in the days when female officers only did paperwork and office jobs, and there hadn’t been very many of them. Back then there were only guys out in the field, which was practical. You didn’t have to take into account female over-sensitivity when it came to dirty jokes and taunts. No, having women on the force was hard. The worst thing was that there were more and more of them. If they chose a male profession, then they had to accept the conditions and the lingo! Although clippings from porno magazines was probably an extreme case. .
She was still standing with a lifeless expression on her face, waiting for his answer. Andersson had an unpleasant feeling of complicity, but in what? Birgitta gave him the answer.
“Sexual harassment. That’s what it is. Finally you just get fed up with it. It’s a given that you have to take it from your colleagues. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to take it from trash like Torsson!”
Suddenly the superintendent felt old and tired. This was beyond his capacity to handle. Jonny was on his feet over by the door, and the look he gave Birgitta blazed with fury.
With a pounding headache Andersson got up and put out another chair by the desk. For safety’s sake he set the two visitors’ chairs at either end of his desk. With a weary gesture he signaled for the two combatants to sit down. Reluctantly they sat down across from each other. Neither looked at the other.
Andersson said severely, “We can’t have stuff like this going on in the department. Okay?”
Neither of them replied. He continued resolutely, “Jonny, you have to stop at once with all the stupid jokes and clippings. And you, Birgitta, have to be careful about attacking people. Even if it’s only men. Imagine if Bobo Torsson reports you for police brutality! One more incident like this and I’ll see to it that you’re transferred to the stockroom. And that goes for you too, Jonny!”
It wasn’t good, but it was the best he could come up with. He needed more coffee. And a headache tablet. There was a roll of antacids in the desk drawer. But he had to clear this up first. Wearily he turned to Jonny.