“Yes. We met Rebecka at his office.”
“It seems as though he really cares about his patients. Either that, or he’s very involved with Rebecka.”
“That occurred to me as well.”
Irene pondered after they had ended the conversation. When she had made up her mind, she called Glen Thompson.
“OKAY,” GLEN said. “Check Christian Lefévre’s pub visit on Monday night and look into the head-shrinker. Is there something in particular you’re looking for when it comes to Fischer?”
“No. Just a feeling that it would be good to get to know him a little better. He is, as I said, unusually protective of Rebecka.”
“I know. He’s protecting her from us,” Glen laughed.
“It feels that way,” Irene admitted.
“When you visit next week, it would be better if you didn’t arrive on Tuesday or Wednesday. I’ll be out of town and will return late Wednesday night. Thursday and Friday are better for me.”
“That works for me.”
Glen promised to book a room at the Thompson Hotel for Thursday night in case she was going to stay overnight.
“You can actually make the trip in one day. Even if that is a bit stressful,” he said.
“It would be too stressful,” Irene decided.
It was a matter of seizing her opportunity, now that she had a second chance at visiting London. Furthermore, it was critical that she speak with Rebecka in peace and quiet. She couldn’t predict when during the day would be suitable for the lady. Just as well not to be pressed for time.
IRENE BOOKED the same flight times. She already dreaded the ungodly early-morning departure from Landvetter, but it was necessary if she wanted to have time to get anything done in London. The later flight didn’t arrive until one thirty in the afternoon. Even if English time was an hour behind Swedish summer time, it would still feel like the whole day was over.
Louise Måårdh called in the afternoon to say thank you. “I have no idea how you managed to get that damn journalist to write his article. I think it’s important that the same journalist wrote both. When he described how Urban manipulated and fooled the two of you, it felt great. I’ve gotten justice, even if we have to live with anonymous letters and phone calls a while longer. If Bengt doesn’t get the position as rector, Urban won’t either. That’s the only thing that matters!”
It wasn’t possible to miss her vindictive tone. Louise’s overflowing gratitude left a sour taste in Irene’s mouth after the she had hung up the phone.
She’d gotten interesting glimpses of church life during the investigation. Before this case had begun, she had had a faint impression of pastors devoted to their calling of caring for souls; but that picture had been altered. Pastors, she had found, are like everyone else, with faults and weaknesses. The difference is that they can conceal them behind their pastor’s garb and people’s inherited reverence for the church. If you lift the gold-embroidered chasubles and scrape at the pious surface, then you find everything from compassion to ordinary human feelings. It was a relief to meet a pastor like Kjell Sjönell. He seemed sincerely interested in other people’s fates and tried to be there for his fellow man. But of course, this took its toll. Irene remembered how tired he had sounded on the phone.
ANDERSSON CAME into Irene’s office just as she was leaving to pick up Krister. Sven seemed washed out. His face looked like it had been quickly put together out of dough. Irene was already on her way out of her office; but when her boss sank into the visitor’s chair, she sat back down as well. Andersson lifted his reading glasses and pinched the flesh between his eyes with the thumb and index finger of one hand.
“It’s as if everything is going wrong. The Speedy case is moving forward and we’ve bagged the post office robbers in Lerum. But in the investigation of the Schyttelius murders, we still don’t know much more than when the investigation started. It’s as if everything is fizzling.”
“I think that feeling is pretty familiar. It always shows up at a certain point in an investigation. It’s supposed to work that way.” Irene smiled encouragingly at the superintendent, but he didn’t acknowledge it.
Instead, he continued. “And then Jonny’s wife called a little while ago. He’s in the hospital. Something is wrong with his stomach. She didn’t know what it was.”
He looked guiltily at Irene. “That means that we need to divide his shift over the weekend. I already have Friday and Saturday, and I can take Sunday as well. Tommy is already on his way to the mountains. Could you think about taking Easter Monday?”
There went her long weekend. Bitterness toward Jonny swelled within her. It was always something with that incompetent fool! Stiffly, she said, “Put me down for Sunday and Monday. You need to have time to recover as well. Jonny will have to rest up in his sickbed. His poor liver will need it. His ‘stomach.’ Call it what you want!”
“Liver? Oh, you think. . ”
Andersson avoided making eye contact. He tried to feign ignorance, but everyone in the unit knew that Jonny had a drinking problem. Andersson didn’t hesitate to go after people who in his eyes mismanaged their jobs, but he thought it beneath him to discuss personal problems. “Fuss,” he would mutter and quickly start talking about something else.
He rose clumsily from the chair and started toward the door. Before he reached it, he turned and said, “It’s nice of you to take Easter Sunday and Monday. This investigation is probably taking more out of me than I’ve realized. I actually met Sten and Elsa once, a long time ago.”
His shrunken figure disappeared down the corridor. Irene was reminded of an old potato sack, shuffling around the house. Old. Andersson had really gotten old. It was increasingly evident that he wouldn’t be able to head the unit forever.
The thought frightened her. Who would become boss in his place?
“SO YOU’RE free on Good Friday and Easter Eve then? I work late on Easter Eve and all day on Easter Sunday. Easter Monday I’m free, but you’re working. We’ll have to aim for Good Friday,” Krister concluded.
They sat in an endless traffic jam on Södra vägen heading toward Mölndal. They had realized too late that it wasn’t a good idea to take this road toward Korsvägen, which was just one single chaos of roadwork and blockades. The idea had been to drive to Frölunda Torg and shop for the weekend. Irene would have preferred to avoid being squashed together with thousands of tired and stressed people on exactly the same errand; she would rather have driven straight home. But according to Krister, there was a threat of starvation in the pantry and refrigerator, so there was no choice.
Krister was driving. Irene leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. Thoughts swirled around aimlessly in her tired brain.
Her comfort level had suffered when Krister began to work full-time five years earlier. Before that, he had worked thirty hours a week and everything had run more smoothly at home. During the whole time the twins were young, he had had a reduced work schedule, since there were no part-time positions for detective inspectors and Irene hadn’t wanted to take a desk job. The deciding argument had been that she earned more as a policewoman than he did as a cook. When he got the offer to take over as head of the kitchen at Glady’s Corner, Irene had energetically supported him. It was his turn to focus on his career. She had regretted this many times since, but would never have told him so. He loved his work, even if he was often tired to the point of exhaustion when he came home. And who wasn’t, thought Irene. The worst thing was that they didn’t see each other very often. Now, with the twins living their own lives, it was more and more common that she came home to an empty house. Good thing Sammie was around.