“I’ll be in touch as soon as we have the rumor confirmed.”
IRENE REPORTED on her phone call with Leif Hansen during morning prayers the following day. Now she wasn’t the only one who had this information. Despite the fact that she spent the rest of the day with the ever-more irritable members of Hells Rockets, she felt as though she had left that investigation. Mentally, she was already in London.
Chapter 17
AT HEATHROW, THE WEATHER was as overcast as it had been when the plane took off from Landvetter. The only difference was that the air was slightly warmer in London.
Glen Thompson was waiting at the same spot. A lukewarm drizzle began as Irene and Glen walked to his black car.
As usual, he talked about everything and everyone. First, he said that the Butcher was still in the hospital. According to the doctors, his brain injuries were permanent. Gravedigger had regained consciousness but was in critical condition. Glen cleared his throat with difficulty before he asked, “You weren’t injured seriously during the car crash?”
“No. Just bumps and bruises,” Irene answered, surprised.
“Good. He’s HIV-positive. AIDS is developing. I was thinking about contacting you when I found out, but since you have to wait at least eight weeks before you can be tested. . ”
He finished the sentence with a shrug. It was unpleasant to think that the man she had fought with suffered from HIV, but as far as she could remember neither he nor she had bled after the crash.
The taxi driver who had fallen victim to the two robbers had also been allowed to leave the hospital.
“He has healed physically but is unwilling to drive a taxi any more. Doesn’t surprise me. They had to pump almost three liters of blood into him! He was very close to death from exsanguination. There’ll probably be some legal proceedings, but since the defendants aren’t in good shape it will take a while. According to my boss, it’s not likely that you’ll have to testify in person. I’ve made a final copy of your statement. Read through it and sign at the bottom.”
“Can I take it home with me and read it in peace?” Irene wanted to have an English-Swedish dictionary at hand.
“Of course.”
Glen also told her that Estelle had gotten a lot of bookings through a new partnership agreement with a large travel agency representing Scandinavian tourists who wanted to stay near the central city, comfortably and cheaply. This had given the small, well-run family hotel in Bayswater a big boost.
He and Kate were considering taking the ferry over and driving through Sweden during the summer, probably the last two weeks in July and the first week in August. The boys were fired up with enthusiasm about living in a tent, but Kate refused to wake up in a soaking-wet sleeping bag; she preferred staying at a bed and breakfast.
“Are there bed and breakfasts in Sweden?” Glen asked.
“Yes, but they’re not as common as in England. However, we have hostels. They maintain very high standards and are economical.
“But in Göteborg, you’ll stay with us,” Irene said firmly.
Glen smiled. “If we accept the invitation, we’ll have the twins with us,” he warned her.
“They are more than welcome. Neither Jenny nor Katarina will be home during those three weeks. Katarina is going to be traveling by boat in Greece, and Jenny is going with her band to practice new songs and record a demo.”
“Aren’t you and your husband going on vacation?”
“Yes. We’re going to Crete, but not until the middle of August.”
“We want to see the midnight sun. Is it really light all night long during the summer months in northern Sweden?”
“Yes. The sun never sinks below the horizon. But don’t forget the converse: From the end of November to the middle of February, they don’t see the sun at all up there. Then it’s eternal night.”
They found the car and started driving toward London. Summer greenery had taken over outside the car, and the gardens they passed were dazzling with flowers. Irene could understand why the English are crazy about their gardens. The pains they take are amply repaid when the gardens start blooming so early. In Sweden, the frosty nights at the end of May, when the temperature drops to freezing and all the tender newly planted plants freeze, postpone the blooming season. Irene had lost count of all of the tomatoes and marigolds that she had had to throw out after the night frost had transformed small sprouts into dead sticky piles.
Glen changed the conversation. “I checked out Lefévre’s alibi for the night of the murder. The pub owner confirmed that Christian was there on that Monday night. There’s a group of five guys who meet there every Monday to organize their betting pools for the week. Despite the fact that there were a lot of people at the pub, the owner says he would have noticed if one of the guys hadn’t shown up. It rarely happens. And he remembers that he and Christian talked for a while before the others came. He was the first one there on that particular Monday.”
“Which leaves Rebecka, who was lying alone at home with a headache. Not much of an alibi,” Irene determined.
“No.”
“Have you had time to check out Lefévre or Dr. Fischer?”
“Of course. Whom do you want to start with?”
“Lefévre.”
“Okay. He’s almost thirty, born in London to an English mother and French father. The parents divorced when he was five years old. He and his mother moved up to Edinburgh, to her sister who lived several miles outside Edinburgh. The sister was married to a rich Scot. He owned large tracts of land and many different businesses. Christian’s mother took a job at one of her brother-in-law’s companies as a financial manager. She had a degree in finance. The sister had a son who was the same age as Christian. They grew up like brothers, since the cousin only has a half-sister who is slightly older. His father, George St. Clair, had been married but was a widower.”
“St. Clair! Christian’s company is called Lefévre and St. Clair. Then Christian’s cousin must be the ‘business partner’ who moved up to Scotland.”
“Exactly. With IT, you aren’t limited geographically. It’s easy to live in Scotland and network with a partner in London. They’ve worked like this for more than two years. Andrew St. Clair took over his father’s business when his mother died, a few years after his father’s death. Today he’s one of Scotland’s richest men.”
“And he also gets an income from the computer company.”
“Yes. But when Andrew moved up north, his interest in the computer company waned. He still owns a part of the business, but his other investments take up a lot of time. That’s probably why Lefévre started looking around for a new partner. One who was very skilled. And he found Rebecka.”
They fell silent as Irene digested this information. She asked, “Why did Christian stay in London? And why did Andrew agree to this?”
“London is where the big clients and the money are. And London has always lured young people. Both cousins had an early interest in computers and were proficient even when they were young. They moved to London and started their business almost nine years ago, and they have been very successful. Even from the outset, they were recognized as one of the best in the business.”
“That means that Rebecka must also be outstanding,” Irene remarked.
“Of course. Maybe that’s why Lefévre takes such good care of her. He knows that she’s unique. He wants her to get better so she can work again.”
“And he thinks that as long as she isn’t worried and is protected from people like you and me, she’ll get better faster. He’s wrong. She’ll never get well if she doesn’t talk. Have you spoken with her?”