Martha’s first temporary release didn’t turn out as she had intended. She had planned to put on some sort of discreet disguise, walk into the Princess Lilian suite and then check everything was OK with the drainpipe. Instead of having several hours to herself, she had to drag along two supervising warders with her. One of them was the ponytail screw, the stone face who had searched her when she arrived at Hinseberg. This humourless being didn’t let her prisoner out of her sight, and she followed her so closely that Martha continuously found herself almost running over her with the walker.
‘Be careful!’ Martha hissed, full of defiance, but she realized that she must control herself. The guard with the ponytail would be happy to nail her if she could. The more months that Martha spent behind bars, the happier the ponytail would be. There were people like that. Martha was really meant to spend her first temporary release in Örebro, but she had specially asked to visit Stockholm. She had mentioned her old age and complained that she got dizzy sometimes and had problems with her balance. Now she wanted to see the royal palace one last time in her life.
‘And you can see it best of all from the Grand Hotel,’ she said when they reached the city.
‘First we must deal with your errands at the social welfare office and visit Diamond House,’ said the ponytail guard.
‘But please, the palace is sooo beautiful,’ Martha appealed, and she nagged until she got her way. It took a bit of time to walk there, because Martha was making herself look as frail as possible. It was necessary not to reveal just how trim she actually was. While she walked, she worried about the money in the drainpipe. What if Anna-Greta’s tights had been too old, or Rake had forgotten an important loop in his knots? The worry gnawed at her, and Martha was keen to get to the Princess Lilian suite straight away. She turned to the ponytailed guard.
‘When I stayed at the Grand Hotel, I lost my mother’s gold bracelet. I’d like to ask in reception whether they have found it,’ she said, and she steered her walker towards the entrance to the hotel.
‘Now? We haven’t time for that,’ answered the woman.
‘But the hotel has an elevator from the street and it’s easy for me to quickly reach reception. It won’t take long, I promise.’
Her two supervisors looked at each other and nodded.
‘Okay, I suppose we can do that.’
Martha was relieved, and soon the walker was rolling along on the familiar blue carpet with the gold crowns. It was rather embarrassing to return there as a criminal, but she had to put up with that. In reception, she explained her errand.
‘It would be wonderful if I could find the bracelet,’ she ended her explanation.
‘Your name?’
‘Martha Andersson.’
Martha blushed; she realized that she must give them her real name to get up into the suite.
‘Martha Andersson, yes, you stayed in the suite in March this year, right?’
‘At the end of March.’
‘Martha Andersson, here is the entry.’ The girl clicked on the computer and scrolled down lists on the screen. ‘There were three of you sharing the Lilian suite, is that right?’
Martha nodded.
‘No, we don’t have a bracelet, I’m afraid.’
‘But I think I know where it is. It won’t take long to—’
‘Sorry.’ The girl shrugged her shoulders. ‘The suite is occupied.’ Her voice suddenly sounded harsh and deprecatory. ‘Also,’ said the girl after a deep breath, ‘we don’t have any other room available either. Not for you.’
Martha became sulky. The receptionist had realized who she was, but there was no reason for her to be impolite on that account. Then she remembered. They had left the suite without paying, and the hotel had been forced to take the money from Anna-Greta’s bank account. But Martha was not going to give up.
‘The bracelet was my mother’s and it means a lot to me. It is a family heirloom.’
The ponytailed guard looked uncomfortable and indicated that they should leave, but Martha stubbornly stood her ground.
‘No, we won’t let anyone into the suite,’ the receptionist repeated, but then stopped. ‘Wait a moment. Martha Andersson, you said—’ The girl disappeared behind the counter and returned with a letter.
‘This has been here a while,’ she said and handed it over to Martha. ‘We were going to forward it, but you got here first.’
It wasn’t Brains’s handwriting, but it did say Martha Andersson on the envelope. The address was written on one of those labels you can print out from a computer. Martha ripped open the envelope before the guard could come up to her. In the envelope lay a little note:
Hide 100,000 SEK in a stroller. Put it near the back entrance to the Grand Hotel at 13.00 on 30 October. Keep away and don’t involve the police. Come back to the same place after two hours. Under blankets and cushions you will find the paintings …
Martha didn’t have time to read more before she heard her supervisors behind her. She pretended to have a coughing attack and between coughs she quickly chewed and gobbled down the note. Usch, how horrible it tasted, but that was what they did in crime novels. She turned around.
‘Weird, an envelope without anything in it,’ she said. Martha then got another coughing attack because a bit of paper had stuck in her throat.