Chapter 14
MONDAY MORNING STARTED NORMALLY but things began running amok a little ways into morning prayers. The door opened and an inspector stuck his head in and said, “There’s a Dane on the phone. And he insists on speaking with Huss.”
Irene excused herself. She was escorted by her colleague to her office. He told her, “I said that you were conducting a case review and wondered if he could call back later. He told me to go to hell!”
“That sounds like a Danish colleague I know,” Irene said. She smiled.
She closed the door. The call had been transferred so she picked up the receiver.
“Hey, Jens,” she said.
“Hey, yourself. Hope you have plenty of time.”
“Plenty of time?” she asked, surprised.
“You have a hell of a lot of explaining to do!” Metz roared into the receiver.
Irene hadn’t noticed his anger until now. He was royally pissed off for some reason. Why? She had the uncomfortable feeling that the anger was directed at her.
“A lot of things have happened here in Copenhagen. Despite the fact that you’ve gone home! But you have left traces. Everywhere!”
Irene heard him pause in order to lower his voice a notch or two before he continued, “I’m sitting here with Tom Tanaka’s cell phone in front of me. There are about twenty numbers programmed into it. One of them has been traced to a cell phone belonging to Marcus Tosscander. Another is your cell phone number. How do you explain that?”
Irene’s pulse began to race from fear.
“What’s happened to Tom?” Her voice rose to a falsetto but she didn’t care. Not Tom! Not Tom! she said desperately to herself.
“He’s lying unconscious at the hospital. He was attacked and severely wounded, stabbed last night.”
“But he never leaves his apartment!” Irene burst out.
“The attack occurred in his apartment,” Metz said dryly.
How was that possible? Irene remembered his code locks and heavy doors. Had he let the perpetrator in himself? She became aware that Jens was speaking again and she straightened up in order to listen.
“Peter is on his way to you. He has two videotapes with him, which we found in Emil’s apartment. They’re very . . . interesting. For both you and us. And I can tell you that we’ve identified the owner of the hair you found in one of the sacks with Marcus’s body parts.”
He paused for dramatic effect and Irene realized that she was holding her breath.
“The hair comes from Emil Bentsen.”
“Emil?” Irene repeated, amazed.
Her brain went on strike. Then the wheels began to turn and she managed to say, “But Emil himself was murdered!”
“You’ll have to look at the tapes. Then you’ll understand. The stains on one of the police uniforms were human blood. We’re matching them against that of Carmen Østergaard and Marcus Tosscander. The results will be ready tomorrow morning at the earliest. Peter should be in Göteborg between eleven and twelve. Order a good lunch. It will be a long one.”
After a curt good-bye, Irene put down the receiver. Her thoughts were spinning chaotically. What was she going to do? Her attempt at keeping Tom outside the investigation had failed. He was alive but seriously hurt. And this was plainly her fault.
She made up her mind. She rose and went into the room where her colleagues were still meeting.
When she opened the door, they turned their questioning faces toward her.
“Some dramatic things have happened in Copenhagen, which make it necessary for me to add to my report,” she said decisively.
SUPERINTENDENT ANDERSSON had flown through the roof. Irene was used to it but this fit had lasted longer than usual. When he was done scolding, it was clear Irene had landed in the soup.
The reactions from her other colleagues were largely condemnatory. Tommy was the only one who smiled supportively.
When his irritation had abated, the superintendent decided that Hannu and Jonny should be present during Irene’s meeting with Peter Møller.
“So that we can be sure our Danish colleague walks out of here alive,” Andersson concluded, with a dark look in Irene’s direction.
She restrained herself from answering. Possibly, she hadn’t dealt with things in the best way when she consciously withheld facts. Despite this, she still felt convinced that she would have done the same thing if she had the chance to do it all over again. Her attempt to protect Tom had failed, but she had really tried.
The fact that Jonny was in a terribly whiny mood didn’t help things. His bloodshot eyes and minty-smelling breath gave rise to the suspicion that he was hungover. Had he continued to drink after returning home from Copenhagen? After morning prayers, he whined several times about how unsociable Irene had been in Copenhagen. Finally, her irritation overcame her. She pulled him into her office and closed the door in Hannu’s face. Aggressively, she shoved her face toward his and said in a low voice vibrating with restrained fury, “It’s possible that I’ve dealt poorly with this case and I’ve been thoroughly reprimanded by the boss for my mistakes. But in any case, I’ve tried to do my job as best I can. That’s more than I can say for you! You were loaded from your first step onto Danish soil until we went home! Is that what you call being sociable?”
Jonny was still in shock from being dragged into a room without warning. He couldn’t come up with anything to say in self-defense. But Irene could see dark anger rising in his bloodshot eyes. After a period of silence, the anger was transformed into gushing hatred. Without a word, he turned and tore the door open, almost stomping on Hannu, who still stood outside. Hannu thoughtfully looked at Jonny’s back disappearing down the hallway. Then he turned his gaze on Irene.
“He needed to hear that,” he said.
Her anger left Irene as quickly as it had come. She felt emptied of any strength, both mental and physical. She sank into her chair, exhausted. Hannu came in and closed the door behind him.
“Have you known about Jonny’s drinking problem for long?” she asked.
“I’ve had my suspicions for about a year.”
“I hadn’t really thought about it until the trip to Copenhagen. What made you suspicious?”
“He’s often sick on Mondays or comes in late. Smells of old booze sometimes. On Fridays he disappears early in order to make it to the state liquor store before it closes. He uses a lot of breath spray and cough drops. And he’s always drunk at parties.”
When Irene thought back, everything Hannu cited added up.
“He needs help. What do we do?” she asked.
Hannu shrugged. Irene realized that he was right. What do you do when a colleague has a drinking problem if he refuses to acknowledge it? Jonny would go crazy if they tried to get him help. Talking to the boss wouldn’t do any good. Andersson hated employee problems. What a “fuss,” he would say, and mumble, and pretend they didn’t exist.
With a sigh, Irene decided to leave Jonny’s problems hanging. She had enough of her own to deal with. Peter Møller was expected to show up in two hours.
PETER ANNOUNCED his arrival at the front desk at eleven thirty on the dot. With an unpleasant, tingly feeling in her stomach, Irene took the elevator down to accompany him to their unit. Their meeting was stiff and cold, just as she had expected. The intimacy of the restaurant visit had vanished completely. Had it ever been there or had she just imagined it? Irene was unsure where she stood with him as she breathed in his wonderful scent. His expression was neutral and he displayed no special feelings. Dressed in a thin light gray blazer, dark blue pants, and a chalk white shirt without a tie, he looked like a bank director on his day off. Definitely not like a police officer.
He held a briefcase in cognac-colored leather in his right hand. Expensive. Probably his own, thought Irene.
He greeted Hannu as he entered the office. Jonny hadn’t arrived yet. Irene asked them to be seated. Peter, with the briefcase in his lap, started by saying, “We need a VCR.”
“Not a problem. We have one in the break room,” said Irene.
Peter shook his head. “Not the break room. Someplace where only we can see.”
“I can take care of that,” said Hannu. He disappeared into the corridor.
When he had closed the door, Irene said, “Tell me what’s happened to Tom.”
Her distressed tone of voice didn’t escape Peter’s attention. He observed her closely before he said, “If only I could understand how the two of you ever hooked up.”
A faint smile could be detected in the corner of his mouth. Irene felt a bit more at ease.
Peter took off his cotton blazer and hung it over the back of his chair. “Tanaka closes the shop at eleven o’clock on Saturday evenings. His employee, Ole Hansen, also worked on Saturday. Hansen was in the employee’s lounge just before ten thirty. As you know, it’s located between the shop and Tanaka’s apartment.”
He stopped when Hannu returned with Jonny in tow. Jonny greeted Peter warmly but avoided looking at Irene. As far as he was concerned, she was empty air. If Peter noticed the tension, he pretended not to. He picked up where he had left off.
“Hansen heard a noise inside Tanaka’s apartment.”
“A shot?” Jonny asked.
“No. A crash, from a broken window. Hansen hurried after Tanaka, who went into his apartment. Hansen, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, saw Tanaka disappear in the direction of his bedroom. Almost immediately, he heard a terrible commotion. He describes it as a roar, and the sound of people fighting.”
The roar had probably come from Tom. A sumo wrestler summons up power and instills fear in his opponent with the help of loud screams, thought Irene.
“Hansen dialed the emergency number on his cell phone as he was running toward the bedroom. When he got there, he saw Tanaka lying on the floor in a rapidly growing pool of blood. The room was covered with it. A large blood vessel in his throat had been cut and his blood was pumping out.”
Irene’s stomach knotted when she pictured the scene in her head.
“Hansen saw a man dressed in black, wearing a hooded sweatshirt, disappear through the window. Hansen didn’t see his face, only his back. But he got the impression that the man was large. Not fat, but tall, with a large build.”
“Did he take anything?” Irene asked.
“Yes. A picture. Apparently a framed photograph. According to Hansen, there had been two on the wall. Now only one of them is left.”
“What’s the subject of the picture that’s still hanging there?”
“A naked man sitting in the water.”
The culprit had taken the backlit picture of the man standing in profile, leaning against a stone wall—the one that had sparked in Irene a faint feeling of recognition. He had left the picture of Marcus. She jumped out of her chair and said, “The mail!”
Without paying attention to her colleagues’ curious looks, she ran to get it. She heard Jonny say, “She’s been knocked totally off-kilter. This investigation has taken its toll. Women can’t see their limitations.”
To her joy, she heard Peter reply, “I don’t see her that way. Strongwilled, but definitely not off balance.”
With shaky fingers she started sorting her mail. There! She recognized the stiff exclusive envelope that was just like the one she had gotten Tom’s message in at the Hotel Alex. Triumphantly, she went back to her office bearing the white envelope and impatiently cut it open.
Two photographs floated down onto the desktop. Without a word, Irene pushed the pictures in front of Peter and Hannu’s surprised eyes. Jonny’s curiosity got the better of him and he drew closer in order to get a glimpse.
“How did you get these?” Peter asked, amazed.
Irene leaned back in her chair and said, “I’ll start from the beginning. But first I want to know if Tom is going to make it.”
Peter smiled widely for the first time since his arrival. “Of course. He’s had several blood transfusions and he’ll recover.”
The smile faded a bit when he continued, “The problem is that he lost so much blood that his brain may have been affected. But the doctors don’t know yet.”
At least Tom wasn’t going to die from his injuries. Irene would have to take comfort from that.
It didn’t take very long to explain her dealings with Tom to Peter. Since Hannu and Jonny had just heard it all, they studied both of the photographs. As Irene was finishing, Hannu looked up from the picture he held in front of him.
“I recognize this guy. But I can’t recall who he is.”
He turned the photo around. It was the backlit picture. Irene nodded.
“That’s exactly what I thought. Do you recognize him, too?” she asked Jonny.
He shook his head without looking at her. Peter took the picture and looked at it for a long time.
“No. I can’t say that I recognize him,” he said finally.
Irene took the picture back and stared intently at it, as if to force the man to turn toward the light. She had to put the photo down finally.
“It’s getting close to movie time,” Jonny said, and grinned.
They rose and went into an empty interrogation room where there was a TV with a VCR.
“We usually use this room for children we believe have been subjected to abuse,” Irene explained.
Peter nodded and put one of the films into the VCR.
The first thing they saw was a naked body lying on a long table. The table was covered with strong, see-through plastic. Scaffolding and miscellaneous junk could be seen under and behind the table. In the background, a sturdy tackle hung from a chain fixed to the ceiling. It appeared to be a large industrial building. Above the table, a bare lightbulb emitted a harsh light.
There was absolutely no doubt that the person on the table was dead. The camera zoomed in on a long incision that ran along the front of the corpse’s abdomen. It was obvious that the internal organs had been removed. At first it was difficult to decide if the body was male or female, since both chest muscles and the genitals had been cut away. But based on the curves of the hips and the thighs, Irene concluded that the body was that of a woman.
Peter hit the pause button and spoke. “We found these two films in a hidden compartment in Emil’s bookcase. These are copies that you can keep. There is no soundtrack on either of the films. This is Carmen Østergaard’s body. Neither the actual murder nor the rituals performed with the body afterward are shown. As you can see, the pelvic area is severely damaged. What follows now is the dismemberment itself. That’s Emil’s thing.”
Peter started the tape again. Emil Bentsen walked into the frame with a large circular saw in his right hand. He was dressed in a police uniform. When he stared at the camera from under the police cap, he looked absurd, almost comical, if it hadn’t been for his expression. His thin face was completely distorted, and his eyes stared wildly. He grinned and motioned toward the camera.
The camera zoomed in on the body again, this time on the head. Irene had time to see Carmen’s wide-open eyes and swollen tongue, sticking out of her mouth, indicating she had been strangled. Then Emil stepped in front of the camera and the screen became completely dark.
The next scene showed Emil as he sawed off Carmen’s head. He had positioned himself on the far side of her body, so he wouldn’t be in the way of the camera. As the head rolled to the side and fell to the floor, he raised the circular saw in the air in a show of victory. He bent and picked up the head, took a tight grip on the hair, and showed off his trophy proudly. The circular saw, with its red-colored blade, was still spinning. Emil turned it off, placed it on the plastic-covered table, and stepped close to the lens, Carmen’s head dangling from his outstretched hand. Irene saw his lips moving. He seemed to be talking the whole time. His chin and goatee were covered with drool.
“Stop!” Hannu screamed.
The scene ended and the next one started. Emil stood leaning over the body again, in the process of starting the saw. Peter Møller stopped the video.
“Back up,” Hannu instructed.
Without commenting, Peter did so.
“Stop,” Hannu said again.
Again they saw Emil move toward them with the sawed-off head held out in front of him.
“Play it slowly,” said Hannu.
They watched the replay of the horrible scene in slow motion.
“Stop!”
Peter paused the picture instantly.
“Look in the lower left-hand corner,” Hannu said and pointed at an indistinct light curvature. “Can you back up a little?”
Peter did as he was asked. Slowly, the size of the little curvature grew and became longer. It was still barely discernible down in the corner of the picture. Then it disappeared.
Peter rewound the tape and played the sequence again.
“It’s definitely the tip of a finger. The person who’s filming this scene doesn’t want the head near him,” said Hannu.
“You’re absolutely right. We’ve played it with magnification. It’s the index finger of a left hand. The entire nail is visible,” said Peter.
Peter started the tape again.
Now they watched Emil saw off Carmen’s arms and legs. When he was done, he grabbed both of the severed arms and shook them above his head in a second show of victory. His entire face was transfigured with joy.
That’s where the video ended.
“Altogether, it’s thirteen minutes,” Peter informed them.
“Does the next film show the dismemberment of Marcus Tosscander?” Irene asked.
“Yes. And they’re strikingly similar,” Peter answered.
The other video began with the same panning over the body, which was in exactly the same condition as Carmen’s had been before Emil’s appearance. Marcus was lying on a sturdy piece of particleboard that could be glimpsed under the clear plastic, resting on two trestles. Bare cement walls could be seen in the background. But this room was much smaller than the one in the first film. Irene guessed it to be a basement or a garage.
Emil was dressed in a police uniform this time as well, and he held the circular saw in his hand from the start. Now he was used to the camera and didn’t obstruct the cameraman’s view when he sawed off the head. Without changing his position vis-à-vis the camera, he held up the head and roared with laughter. Then he cut off the arms and legs. In conclusion he took one of Marcus’s legs and lifted it straight above his head. That was the final picture.
“Ten minutes,” Peter said dryly.
“Damn, this stuff is sick!” Jonny exclaimed.
Irene felt ill. At the same time she realized the importance of the videos.
“Have you been able to locate where the dismemberments took place?” she asked tensely.
“With respect to the first murder, we have a theory that the dismemberment may have taken place in an old, abandoned shipyard building. There are several of those out by Frihamnen, a few kilometers from Hellerup. That’s where the sacks were found. We have people going through all of the abandoned shipyard buildings with a fine-tooth comb. If we don’t get anything there, we’ll go through industrial sites. It’s a huge job, but we’re going to do it.”
“How about the location where Marcus was dismembered?”
“Harder. It appears to be a basement. It’s probably located in Göteborg, since he was found here.”
Irene nodded and said, “I think that’s a correct assumption. There was no reason to transport Marcus’s dismembered body to Göteborg. The risk of getting caught at customs would always exist.”
“We know that he was alive when he came to Göteborg at the beginning of March,” Jonny pointed out.
“Yes. He called Anders Gunnarsson. And according to a neighbor lady he had been in his apartment because the plants were watered and his summer clothes were gone,” Irene agreed.
Hannu had been sitting motionless during the entirety of the last film, but now he turned to Peter and said, “That means that Emil and his accomplice also came along to Göteborg.”
“I think the accomplice was already in place. He was waiting for Emil and Marcus here,” Irene said.
Jonny was still noticeably pale but now he cleared his throat and asked, “Why didn’t Marcus drive his car when he came home to pack?”
“A very good question. But that’s the obvious answer to why we haven’t gotten any positive leads when we asked the different ferry lines about the car. His red American vehicle would be very conspicuous,” said Irene.
“That’s why,” Hannu said.
The other three turned their questioning looks toward him. “Because it was conspicuous,” Hannu said.
Irene thought hard but didn’t understand Hannu’s meaning. “They were going to leave from Landvetter,” Hannu continued.
Jonny’s paleness was replaced by a flush of annoyance. “How do you know that?” he hissed angrily.
“They were going on a long trip to Thailand. It wasn’t a good idea to leave the car parked for an even longer time on the street. Marcus didn’t have a garage. Emil did, so they parked Marcus’s car in Emil’s garage, and took Emil’s car to Göteborg. Or maybe his accomplice’s.”
Peter nodded and said, “We’ll go through all of the facts again. But this time we’ll look for Emil’s car. I think you are right.”
“Were all three of them planning on going to Thailand? Or at least is that what Marcus believed?” Irene said thoughtfully.
“It’s very possible,” said Hannu.
“Did you notice that there weren’t any internal organs or muscles left in the bodies in the films?” Peter wondered. He continued without waiting for an answer, “Our theory is that they were placed in different containers. In the film where Carmen is dismembered you can see the rim of a large plastic bucket. It’s standing right next to the table she’s lying on. Our thinking is that the head and the internal organs were placed in that bucket and covered with cement. The bucket was then sunk out in the ocean. The sacks floated, as you know.”
His Swedish colleagues pondered this theory.
“You think the same thing happened with Marcus’s head and organs?” Hannu said finally.
“Yes.”
“And the buttocks and muscles were eaten by those sick bastards?” Jonny exclaimed.
Peter answered neutrally, “Probably.”
He ejected the tape and put it back in its case before he went on, “Blokk watched both videos last night. He said that Carmen had probably been dead for at least eight hours before Emil started dismembering her. Rigor mortis is already fully developed.”
“And Marcus?” asked Irene.
“He was probably dead a shorter period of time. Blokk guessed five hours. As you saw, the leg bent a bit at the knee when Emil picked it up. The jaws and the arms were completely stiff. Blokk said that he was going to analyze the films frame by frame. Then he can see if there is livor mortis and so on.”
Irene realized that it was way past lunchtime but she assumed that the other three didn’t feel particularly hungry either.
“These two videos explain why Isabell and Emil weren’t dismembered. Sawing off the head and the extremities was Emil’s job. He wasn’t there when Isabell was murdered. Certainly, he was there when he was murdered, but not as a mutilator,” Peter said dryly.
“He was indirectly involved in Isabell’s murder. He was the one who tipped off the murderer that I was looking for her, and he must have given him the name of Simon Steiner,” said Irene.
“Emil may have told the murderer his father’s name earlier. But the murderer and Emil must have been in contact directly after Emil spoke with Beate, after your restaurant meeting,” said Peter.
“He couldn’t have known before then that I was looking for Isabell,” Irene agreed.
“Why would he kill an insignificant little whore you were looking for?” Jonny asked.
Before Irene had a chance to answer, Hannu said, “A practical joke.”
It sounded ridiculous, but the more Irene thought about it, the less far-fetched it seemed. Was Bell’s murder a warning from a twisted brain? Or a joke?
“Emil’s accomplice has suddenly become very active. There were two years between the murders of Carmen and Marcus. Then he murders Isabell and Emil within an interval of just a few hours. And a week and half later, Tom is stabbed!” she exclaimed.
“We don’t know if Emil’s partner stabbed Tanaka. It could have been a regular burglar. But as he took the photo in the bedroom, we have to assume that the break-in is connected to everything else,” Peter observed.
“And we can probably assume that it was Emil whom Marcus meant when he spoke about his police officer. The question is, who’s the doctor?” said Irene.
She told them about Pontus Zander’s promise to keep his ears cocked at the next day’s meeting for gays in the health-care field.
“Gays in the health-care system! I’ll be damned if they’re going to look at my ass!” Jonny snorted.
They decided to eat before watching the tapes one more time. Peter wanted a solid lunch because he was planning on driving home directly afterward.
“You’re not going to stay here in Göteborg for one night?” Irene asked.
“No. We’re short-staffed. Jens has had to take over as superintendent for Beate. She’ll be on sick leave a few more weeks.”
He wouldn’t let himself be persuaded. Finally, Irene gave up. She wanted him to leave with a good impression of Göteborg’s pub life so she decided that they would eat at Glady’s Corner. She lifted the phone receiver to reserve a table. If you’re married to the master chef, it should be possible to arrange things on short notice.
THEY WERE given a table but had to wait until two o’clock. Jonny excused himself by saying that he had work piled up, but Irene had the suspicion that it was mostly out of fear that he would have to pay for himself. Glady’s was one of Göteborg’s best pubs, with a star in Guide Michelin , but not the cheapest one.
Irene quickly realized that the three police officers weren’t really dressed for the establishment. Peter might be able to pass as business casual. But since it was after the lunch rush and the dinner guests hadn’t started streaming in yet, there shouldn’t be a problem. The headwaiter was among the snootiest Irene had ever come across; they had never gotten on well. Not that they had that much to do with each other, but sometimes she couldn’t avoid needing to speak with her husband. If the headwaiter happened to be the one who answered the phone, an icy chill soon floated over the wires. Irene suspected that she wasn’t chic enough to be the wife of the golden pub’s master chef, in his estimation.
Now he met them at the door. He wore a black suit and a white shirt, and bowed stiffly to them. Of course, he pretended not to recognize Irene. Surrounded by the scent of his exclusive perfumed aftershave, he showed them to a table by the far wall in one of the more concealed alcoves. With her biggest smile, Irene said, “No thanks. We would like to sit at one of the empty window tables.”
He opened his mouth to respond but when their eyes met he closed it again with a snap. Without a word, he led them toward one of the window tables. In order not to admit complete defeat, he seated them at a table by the side of the window rather than in the middle. Irene decided to let it go.
The business lunch consisted of grilled cod cooked in a wok, with white wine sauce. All three chose the same dish, not least because of the price. For an additional one hundred and thirty SEK, they could have gotten an appetizer and dessert as well, but none of them was that hungry. The images from the video were all too fresh in their minds.
While they were waiting for food, they each ordered a large beer. Freshbaked bread appeared. Its smell was seductive, and it was still warm enough for the butter to melt when it was spread.
So far, the day had been overwhelming. It was important to process all the new information. Peter and Hannu avoided talking about what they had seen and gone through during the last few hours. And Irene started to relax. The tension in her neck and shoulders began to ease, due to a combination of the beer and Glady’s comfortable atmosphere. The restaurant, located in an old potato shop on the bottom floor of one of the larger stone buildings on Avenyn, was spacious but the architect had preserved small storage rooms and narrow passages, which added intimacy to the restaurant. The bare brick walls had been washed, and lighting points and candles placed in the holes in damaged stones. The chairs, in a late-eighteenth-century Gustavian style, were painted in sober light gray and covered in a blue-and-white-striped cotton fabric. White linen tablecloths and napkins completed the fresh look. Airy striped cotton curtains framed the only window, where the police officers were sitting. Irene could watch the passersby through the gauzy fabric without being seen herself. An ideal lookout spot, she thought. She realized a second later how much her work had affected her psychologically. She had to make an effort to concentrate on the conversation and the good food.
THEY WATCHED the videos with Peter one more time. Jonny joined the group before they started.
It was easier this time, since they knew what was coming. When the last painful image had faded from the screen, Irene said, “Why didn’t Emil include the entire dismemberment process? It’s easy to copy a videotape so that both Emil and his accomplice could have had one.”
They pondered the question for a while. Finally, Hannu said, “He didn’t want the other part. That’s not what turned him on.”
Peter nodded.
“Blokk said something similar. He said that the dismemberments with the saw reduced Emil’s anxiety and gave him pleasure.”
“The other one probably wanted the other pictures of the abuse of the body. Opening the abdomen and removing the internal organs and all that. Incidentally, I wonder if the murder itself is on tape?” Irene asked.
“It’s very possible. But not certain. The primary thing wasn’t to kill a person but what they did later with the body,” Peter answered.
It sounded very much like what Yvonne Stridner had said at the beginning of the investigation.
“So the other guy is supposed to be the doctor, if I’ve understood this correctly?” Jonny jumped in.
“Yes. We think so since Marcus spoke . . .” Irene started.
“What if he’s just as fake as the policeman?” Jonny said triumphantly.
“Fake?”
“Emil wasn’t a police officer. Just dressed up like one. What if the doctor isn’t really a doctor, but is just pretending. Goes around in a white coat and stethoscope and all that.”
Irene stared at Jonny, amazed. It was the most intelligent thing he had come up with during the entire investigation. And he could very well be right. Irene nodded and said, “That’s very possible. I’ve been thinking about the picture that was stolen at Tom’s. The man in the photo, maybe he’s the doctor. I’ve been trying to come up with a way of getting in touch with the photographer who took the pictures. He should know who the man in the backlit picture is.”
“Have you asked Tanaka?” Peter wondered.
“Yes. Tom doesn’t know who he is. It’s a high-quality picture—”
She was interrupted by Jonny’s loud snort but continued, “—and there shouldn’t be that many photographers who could have taken it. The question is where to start looking.”
“Among the photographers,” Hannu answered.
Sometimes he really could be irritating. Irene told herself to be patient and waited for further exposition.
“He’s a freelance photographer,” said Hannu.
Jonny raised his eyebrows in surprise and started to say, “How do you—” but stopped himself.
At least he had learned something, thought Irene.
A freelance photographer? Probably. A photographer of this class probably worked on his own. But he might have a studio with employees. Irene realized that it was going to take time to find the photographer but they would find him.
PETER MØLLER left just before five o’clock. He planned on reaching his home by ten if all went smoothly. Hannu, Jonny, and Irene went to Superintendent Andersson’s office in order to bring him up to speed on the surprising developments in the case.
Andersson declined to watch the videos. He fully trusted their judgment of the tapes’ authenticity, he said.
They agreed that they would start the search for the photographer the next day.