Was she doing this to impress him? So she would later be able to say, Thanks for the tip, it led to… or was it Ola Haver’s superior remarks in the lunchroom?
Regardless of the reason, she entered the surgical wing accompanied by Liljendahl with a certain amount of anticipation. She was also curious to see how her colleague handled the situation.
Sidström was sitting slouched over in a chair. His head was leaning forward, his chin against his chest, his arms draped over the armrests and the emaciated, very sinewy hands twitched almost imperceptibly.
“I wonder what he’s dreaming about?” Lindell whispered.
He looked considerably older than his forty-two years. Lindell guessed at a long history of drug abuse behind the grayish cast of the skin, and she was convinced his arms and perhaps his legs were covered in scars from hypodermic needles.
According to Liljendahl he had been drug-free for a year, and Lindell wondered how he had reacted to the anesthesia and painkillers he must have received at the hospital. His last charges were three years back in time: burglary.
“Olle,” Liljendahl said.
The man reacted by jerking his head, but he did not wake up. Liljendahl shook his shoulder gently and Lindell felt an involuntary distaste, bordering on revulsion, at her colleague’s touch but also at the watery eyes that opened.
“What the hell?”
“Time to wake up,” Liljendahl said.
The man looked around in confusion, discovered who his visitors were, and quickly sat up in the chair.
“Fucking hell,” he said emphatically, and grimaced.
There was more to come once Liljendahl, after having introduced Ann Lindell, took out a small pocket tape recorder, recorded the facts of the questioning session, and proceeded with her first question about how much cocaine he had sold recently.
“What the fuck are you talking about? Turn that damn thing off.”
Liljendahl smiled. Lindell went and stood over by the window, diagonally behind Sidström.
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Liljendahl said and Lindell couldn’t help smile, “and we would appreciate a little cooperation.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“We know that you sell cocaine, we also know a great deal about your activities in general.”
“I am not telling you shit, or your-”
“There are others who talk,” Liljendahl said tiredly, and Lindell guessed how she was planning to approach the whole thing.
“Konrad Rosenberg, is that name familiar to you?”
It was Lindell who took the chance, and the man flinched, grimaced again, then turned his body, and stared at her in terror. Lindell saw that her guess had hit the mark and she exchanged glances with Liljendahl.
“You can start talking now,” Lindell said and almost heard his body deflate. His facial features changed in one stroke and displayed all the signs of extreme fatigue and despondency. He shook his head lightly and audibly drew in all the mucus in the sinus cavities in his skull.
Sometimes it is almost too easy, Lindell thought, and leaned against the windowsill.
In the cafeteria half an hour later, when they were reviewing their session, Liljendahl was so excited that Lindell had to laugh.
“You did that well,” she said.
“Thanks for the help,” Liljendahl said. “That was so perfect!”
“What’s your partner going to say?”
Liljendahl’s expression fell immediately and Lindell was sorry she hadn’t given her happiness a few more minutes.
“He’ll be upset,” Liljendahl said. “But I don’t give a damn. If you only knew how sick and tired I am of his comments.”
Lindell nodded.
“Should we go look up Rosenberg right away?”
“It’s probably best for me to step down at this point,” Lindell said. “I mean, if Harry gets upset about something like this then it won’t be better if we just keep going. We don’t actually have that much on Rosenberg right now. Sidström did not expressly say that it was Rosenberg who was the supplier, only that they were in contact.”
“But you saw how he reacted,” Liljendahl said. “His body language spoke volumes.”
Lindell hated having to step down, but there was a chance this was going to go too far. If she followed along to Konrad Rosenberg and it took off from there, she would be drawn deeply into an investigation that, strictly speaking, she didn’t have anything to do with.
“You tackle Rosenberg on your own and then get in touch with me,” she said, and the disappointment in Liljendahl’s face was unmistakable.
They drove back to the police station in silence, but before they parted ways they agreed to meet the following day.
“I need the perspective of an experienced colleague,” Liljendahl said and Lindell found this both flattering and irritating. She guessed that there was something behind the appreciative words. Maybe, she thought, her motivation was as simple as just wanting to piss off Harry Andersson.
Thirty-Five
Eva Willman chuckled to herself. In front of her on the table lay at least one hundred flyers. She already regretted having promised Helen to circulate them. The text was too aggressive in Eva’s opinion, too stark and bordering on schmaltz. Eva had little patience for the sentimental while Helen liked to lay it on thick.
“But this is about our children,” Helen said, when Eva objected to one of the phrases.
“But this one, Helen,” Eva said and read aloud: “‘… drug dealers are like predators who destroy our children, luring them into the marsh.’”
“So?” Helen said. “If some bastard came here and threw our kids in the Stordammen to drown them we would stop him, wouldn’t we?”
Stordammen was a lake with a swampy shoreline, encircled by a belt of reeds, located in the woods just south of the residential area.
“We haven’t fully come to terms with what is happening,” Helen went on. “These are our children they have targeted. One should line them up against a wall, these damn pushers-no, that would be too kind-one should-”
“You are not allowed to say that at the meeting,” Eva interrupted.
Helen smiled.
“Do you think I’m completely crazy? I am going to be exceedingly calm and dignified. You can talk instead, if you like.”
There was a note of both derision and indignation in Helen’s voice.
Helen had booked the old post office. That turned out to be a good choice because it was centrally located and, above all, everyone knew where it was. A good friend of hers had printed up the flyers at work. Helen had also organized coffee and cake through the congregation and invited the police to talk about drugs.
Eva had suggested they invite some politicians but Helen had dismissed the idea with a snort.
“We’re going to have to tackle this ourselves,” she said. “If those clowns took their jobs seriously, surely the schools wouldn’t be the way they are. Soon there will only be one school counselor per district. And there should be a community center worthy of the name, at the very least.”
Helen continued to list the things she thought the politicians should do. Nothing came as news, and the more Helen talked the more tired Eva felt.
Eva started in her own courtyard, walking from building to building and taping the yellow flyers to the doors. Then she continued on through the area, down toward the ICA grocery store and the pizzeria.
She met several people she knew outside the store. She was slightly ashamed of the flyers with their silly phrases, but everytime she received some encouragment she felt more comfortable.
“I’m glad someone is doing something sensible for once,” said a mother she recognized from the soccer practices.
Maybe we could post a large advertisement outside the store, she thought, and went inside to talk to the manager, returning with something close to a promise.
She knew that the rumor would quickly spread in Sävja and Bergsbrunna that Patrik and Hugo’s mother was running around with flyers like some kind of Jehovah’s Witness, and she wondered what her boys would say. They would be embarrassed, Eva felt sure about that. But, emboldened by the praise, she went by the nursery school on the way home, went in and talked to some of the staff, and was allowed to post flyers there as well.