Beyond the door to surgery, everything was still. The smell of disinfectant stung his nose. The doctor made a quick pass through the two anterooms and decided that all was as it should be.
He hurried through the surgery ward and opened the door to the other, somewhat smaller, stairwell. At the administration offices on the other side of the stairs, Dr. Löwander tested the doors to the house mother’s station, the doctors’ assistants’ offices, and his own office. He felt relief to find them all locked. The last door in the hallway belonged to the on-call apartment.
He rushed inside, snatched his cell phone from his briefcase, and tapped 112, his hands shaking slightly. The emergency-services operator promised to send a police car as soon as possible. They would also contact the emergency electric service but made no promises about when an electrician could get there.
Dr. Löwander held the flashlight in his teeth to search through the phone book, which, luckily, was on his desktop. He flipped through the Bengtssons of Göteborg until he got to Folke Bengtsson, security guard, Solrosgatan 45. He had to describe the situation first to the newly awakened Mrs. Bengtsson and then again to Folke Bengtsson himself. Folke promised to jump into his car right away. As Dr. Löwander pressed end, he found he was covered in sweat. He took a few deep breaths before heading back out into the hallway and down the steps as quickly as he dared. He slowed as he got to the ward and carefully opened the door to the darkened room.
Nurse Siv was sitting on the floor outside the nurses’ station, crying softly. She’d wrapped her arms tightly across her body, and she was rocking back and forth. When she saw the doctor, she began to wail.
“I saw her! I saw her!”
“Who?” the doctor asked, more sharply than he’d intended.
“The ghost! Nurse Tekla!”
Confused, Dr Löwander gaped at the nurse, who continued rocking and shut her eyes against the bright glare of the flashlight. Tears ran down her face. He pondered what to do. Finally he said, “Here. Take the flashlight. Sit here at the station. I’ll come back with the police. We’ll find out what’s at the bottom of all this.”
He helped the shaking woman to her feet, pushed the flashlight into her hand, and led her back to the nurses’ station and to her desk. Unresisting, she let him push her into her chair.
Now that the moonlight was stronger, Dr. Löwander was able to find his way much more easily down the stairs to the ground floor. Once he reached the foyer, he had to slow his pace. The darkness among the pillars of the art nouveau arches was impenetrable. As he got to the main door, a chill went down his spine. He was certain that someone was watching him. He felt as if a person were standing amid the pillars observing his every move. His fingers fumbled with the key. He almost yelled with relief as the heavy door swung open. The chill of the night swept across his sweaty forehead, and he took a deep breath.
“I’VE SEARCHED THE entire upper floor, and there’s no trace of Marianne.” Dr. Löwander filled the police in, trying to speed their search for the nurse. “She’s not on the middle floor either. That’s where the care wards and ICU are located. Probably she’s here on the ground floor or even in the basement. If she hasn’t gone outside into the park, that is.”
Security guard Bengtsson had brought his own flashlight. Dr. Löwander had already sent him to the basement to check on what had happened with the electricity and the backup generator.
The three policemen had brought strong flashlights as well. The oldest, who had introduced himself as Sergeant Kent Karlsson, swung the beam of his around the large, dark foyer. Dr. Löwander felt slightly irritated with himself; there was clearly no one hiding among the pillars.
“If you loan us your keys, Jonsson and I could make a round through this floor and—”
“Hey there! Help! I found her!”
A call from the basement interrupted the sergeant. They could see the wavering glow of his flashlight before the full beam blinded them and obscured the guard. Nevertheless, his excited words were clear: “I’ve found Nurse Marianne!”
“Where?” Dr. Löwander asked sharply.
“In the main electrical room. I believe … I believe she’s … dead.” Bengtsson’s voice was failing, and the word “dead” was nothing more than a hoarse whisper echoing among the pillars.
“Show us where you found her,” Sergeant Karlsson ordered.
• • •
HER BODY WAS stretched facedown across the backup generator. The men standing in the doorway could just see the backs of her legs and her rear, encased in long pants. Her head and arms were out of sight over the other side. Dr. Löwander registered that she was missing a shoe. He walked around the generator, bent down, and dutifully checked the pulse at her neck, but he could feel that the chill of death had already set in. Her thick, dark braid brushed the floor. A sharp bluish red mark ran across her throat.
“She’s dead,” he said quietly.
Sergeant Karlsson took charge. “We’re leaving the room now. Do not touch anything. I have to call for reinforcements.”
Dr. Löwander nodded and obediently left with the others. “We’ve got to get back to Nurse Siv. She’s all alone,” he said.
Sergeant Karlsson looked at him with surprise. “Night nurses are used to being alone.”
“True enough, but not under these circumstances. She’s in shock.”
“Why?”
“She believes she saw a ghost.” Dr. Löwander said this lightly, hoping that the police would not pay too much attention to it. He quickly turned to Bengtsson and said, “Come with me. Let’s check on Siv.”
He took Bengtsson’s flashlight and led the way to the stairs. Folke Bengtsson followed him with relief.
AT SEVEN O’CLOCK, Superintendent Sven Andersson and Detective Inspector Irene Huss arrived at Löwander Hospital.
The investigators climbed out of their blue Volvo, which the superintendent had parked by the main entrance. They paused for a moment and looked up at the impressive building. The hospital was built of brownish red brick. The entrance led to a grand stairway right at the center of the structure. The main entrance was covered with stucco decorations. Two carved marble Greek gods kept watch on each side.
They pushed open the heavy door. Detective Fredrik Stridh was sitting in a chair by the entrance, waiting for them. They knew he was not sitting to rest tired legs but was taking the opportunity to write up his notes. When he saw them, he leaped to his feet and came to meet them.
“Good morning,” Superintendent Andersson said to his youngest detective.
“Morning, sir!” Stridh eagerly launched into his report. “The crime scene was secured by the patrol, and the technicians were already hard at work when I arrived at three-thirty A.M. Malm is here from Forensics, and he says it appears the girl was strangled.”
The superintendent nodded. “Why weren’t you here before three-thirty?” he asked.
“I’d swung by Hammarkullen to look at a guy who flew out of a ninth-floor window just before midnight. There were quite a few people in the apartment, and the party was still going strong. Either they’d all worked together to throw him out or he’d decided to jump on his own. We’ll have to see what the chief forensics officer has to say. Speak of the devil, here she comes now.”
They looked out the thick panes of the window as a white Ford Escort shot in through the gate and stopped sideways behind the superintendent’s car. The driver-side door opened, and flaming red hair popped up over the roof.
“Yvonne Stridner!” moaned Superintendent Andersson.