As usual, Johansson arrived first at his office. The hour before his secretary showed up he would usually use to have an extra cup of coffee in peace and quiet, read his e-mail, and do all the other things he never had time for during the rest of the day.
A model of brevity and well written, thought Johansson as he read the memo Mattei had e-mailed him. That little string bean is hardworking too, he thought. According to the date and time the memo had arrived in his mailbox shortly after eleven the night before.
But the memo was hardly exciting, because he already knew everything that was in there, he thought. So all hopes were dashed from the start that any of the old owls would have a new, exciting, concrete lead to offer.
Although you knew that too, thought Johansson and sighed. The remaining consolation was that at least one of the older colleagues seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he was. A minor conspiracy in the victim’s vicinity and a highly capable perpetrator who took care of the practical aspects.
Must be Melander, he thought. Melander had been his and Jarnebring’s mentor when they started at the central detective squad in Stockholm more than thirty years ago. Wonder how the old geezer’s doing? he thought just as Anna Holt stepped in through his open door, knocked on the doorjamb, and showed her white teeth in a smile.
“Knock, knock,” said Holt. “Isn’t that what you always say when you barge into someone’s office?”
“Sit down, Anna,” said Johansson, nodding toward his couch. “What are you doing at work this time of day?” She’s actually a really nice-looking lady, he thought. On the thin side, perhaps, and a little tedious sometimes, but…
“Have to hurry along,” said Holt, shaking her head. “Just a quick question.”
“Shoot,” said Johansson.
“If you’d shot Palme, run down Tunnelgatan and up the stairs to Malmskillnadsgatan, which way would you have gone after that?”
Mercy, thought Johansson.
“I have three options,” he answered. “I can go left on Malmskillnadsgatan toward the park by St. Johannes Church, I can cross the street and go straight ahead, as it is alleged that the perpetrator did, continue straight across Brunkebergsåsen that is. Or I can turn right on Malmskillnadsgatan in the direction of Kungsgatan.”
“So which way would you have gone?”
“Personally I would go right,” he said, nodding in emphasis, “take the stairs down to Kungsgatan, melt in among all the others walking there, and then disappear down into the subway.”
“Why?” said Holt.
“Because it’s best,” said Johansson.
“Thanks,” said Holt. She nodded, smiled, turned on her heel and left.
Wonder what she’s after? thought Johansson, and though it was said he could see around corners, he had no idea that Holt too had shared his speculations for almost a day now. Wonder if little Mattei has shown up yet? he thought suddenly, looking at his clock. Worth a try, he thought, entering her number.
“Sit down, Lisa,” said Johansson, indicating the chair on the other side of the desk.
“Thanks, boss,” said Mattei, doing as she was told. Be on the alert, Lisa, she thought.
“Thanks for the e-mail,” said Johansson. “A model of brevity. And well written,” he added.
“Thanks,” said Mattei. “Although I’m afraid there weren’t any new ideas.”
“No,” said Johansson. “But neither of us thought there would be. Speaking of new ideas, by the way, I’d hoped maybe you would have some.”
Sink or swim, thought Mattei, and if it were to sink and go completely down the toilet it would still be a point in her favor if Johansson knew about it in advance.
“I actually have an idea,” said Mattei. “I don’t know, but—”
“Go on,” said Johansson, nodding encouragingly.
“I was thinking about what you said at our last meeting. About the Palmes going to the movies. I share your understanding, boss. I think he might very well have talked about it before, and that his plans might have been known among his co-workers, and that the people at SePo might also have heard talk of it.”
“So now you’re thinking about having your mother invite you and a now retired head of personal security to dinner and let all the good food and drink take care of the rest,” Johansson observed. That girl can go as far as I have, he thought.
“Roughly like that,” said Mattei. He can see around corners, though I already knew that, she thought.
“How long has she been at SePo now? Your mother, that is,” Johansson clarified.
“Since I was in preschool,” said Mattei. “Almost thirty years. Now she has a position as director of constitutional protection. She’s retiring next year.” My mom will be a retiree, she thought.
“Although you can’t really say that kind of thing,” said Johansson, who had been operational head of the secret police himself before he wound up at the national bureau. “I have the idea that she was with personal security too?”
“In the eighties, actually. She was there for several years, including when Palme was assassinated. She was responsible for the queen and the children in the royal family,” said Mattei. “If I dare say that.” What else would a woman be doing at that place? she thought.
“To me you can say anything whatsoever,” said Johansson with an authoritative expression. “It stays in this room, as you know.”
“So she knows Chief Inspector Söderberg well. He was the one who took care of the government and Palme, as I’m sure you recall. He’s always had an eye for my mother.” Who didn’t at that time? she thought.
“Of course,” said Johansson. “Who hasn’t? She’s an elegant woman, your mother. Though Söderberg has never really been himself since the murder of Palme,” he added. I guess it would be strange otherwise, he thought.
“He seems to have taken it extremely hard in the beginning,” said Mattei. “Although the last time I saw him, at my mom’s sixtieth birthday dinner by the way, he was lively and happy. So what happened when Palme was murdered he certainly remembers in detail.”
“Sounds good,” said Johansson. “That’s what we’ll do,” he said, nodding. “Say the word if there’s anything practical I can help you with.
“Oh, and there’s one more thing,” said Johansson, who was suddenly struck by a thought. “Which one of the old Palme investigators was it, by the way, who had the same good idea as I did?”
“I really can’t say that,” said Mattei, shaking her blond head unusually firmly. Good Lord, she thought.
“I’m still listening,” Johansson repeated.
“Not even to the boss,” Mattei persisted. “I’ve promised all of them anonymity. You can get a list of the ones I’ve interviewed, but I can’t go into what this one or that one said.”
“I understand,” said Johansson. “How’s Melander doing, by the way?” he added with an innocent expression. “We worked together at the bureau ages and ages ago.”
“Good,” said Mattei. “He said to say hello, by the way.” You didn’t manage that corner, she thought.
“I can imagine that,” said Johansson contentedly.