Göran Stone smiles at Joona Linna, removes an envelope from his briefcase, opens it, and holds out a key in his cupped palm. Saga Bauer stands right next to the elevator, looking downcast. All three of them are outside the apartment of Carl Palmcrona at Grevgatan 2.
“Our technicians come tomorrow,” Göran says.
“Do you know what time?” asks Joona.
“What time, Saga?” asks Göran.
“I believe-”
“Believe? You should know exactly,” Göran says.
“At ten o’clock,” Saga says in a low voice.
“And did you give them my orders to start with the Internet and telephone system?”
“Yes, I-”
Göran silences her with a wave of his hand as his phone rings. He takes a few steps down the stairs to answer, stepping into a niche next to the window with reddish brown panes.
Joona turns to Saga and asks quietly, “Aren’t you in charge of this case?”
Saga shakes her head.
“What happened?” he asks.
“Don’t know,” she says in a tired voice. “It always happens this way. Counterterrorism isn’t even Göran’s specialty.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
“There’s nothing to do…”
She falls silent as Göran finishes his phone call and returns to where they’re standing. Saga suddenly holds out her hand for the key to Palmcrona’s door.
“I want the key,” she says.
“What?”
“I’m in charge of this investigation,” she states firmly.
“What do you say about all this?” Göran says jokingly as he smiles at Joona.
“This is nothing against you, Göran,” Joona says. “But I was just in a meeting with the higher-ups and I accepted an offer to work under Saga Bauer-”
“Oh, she can come along,” Göran says hastily.
“As the one in charge of the investigation,” Saga says again.
“Are you guys trying to get rid of me-or what the hell is this all about?” Göran says, looking both surprised and injured.
“Well, you can come along, if you want,” Joona answers calmly.
Saga takes the key from Göran’s hand.
“I’m going to call Verner,” Göran says as he heads back down the stairs.
They listen to his footsteps and then how he speaks to his boss. The tone rises and his voice sounds increasingly upset until they hear him yell “Fucking cunt!” until it echoes.
Saga tries to stifle a smile as she turns to focus on the job. She puts the key in the lock, turns it twice, and opens the heavy door.
The police tape banning access to the apartment has been removed now that there no longer is any suspicion of a crime having been committed. The investigation was halted as soon as Nils Åhlén’s autopsy report was concluded. As Joona had suspected, it confirmed a suicide: Carl Palmcrona hanged himself using a laundry line made into a noose and hung from the ceiling lamp of his home. The crime scene investigation was broken off and no analysis was performed on any evidence sent to the National Forensic Laboratory in Linköping.
But now it had been revealed that the day before, Björn Almskog had sent him an e-mail.
Later that same evening, Viola Fernandez had been killed on Björn Almskog’s boat.
Saga and Joona walk into the hallway and notice there’s been no mail delivery. They walk through the large rooms. Sunlight floods in through the windows and the smell of green soap lingers in the air. The red tin roof of the building across the street reflects the light, and from the bay window they can see the shimmering waters of Nybroviken Bay.
The forensic technician’s protective mats have been removed and the floor underneath the ceiling lamp in the empty salon has been scrubbed.
They step lightly across the creaking parquet floor. There seems to be no lasting impression of Palmcrona’s suicide. Now the place appears merely uninhabited. Joona and Saga both feel that the large rooms, almost empty of furniture, are now filled with a quiet sense of peace.
“The housekeeper’s still taking care of the place,” Saga says as she realizes what’s behind the change.
“Exactly,” Joona says and then smiles. The housekeeper has been there to clean the apartment, air out the rooms, carry in the mail, and change the linens.
Both of them understand that this is not unusual after a sudden death. People refuse to accept that their lives are going to change. Instead, they keep on with the old routine.
The doorbell rings. Saga looks a little concerned, but she follows Joona back to the hallway. The outer door is opened by a man with a shaved head and dressed in a black, baggy tracksuit.
“Joona told me to toss my hamburger aside and get over here pronto,” says Johan.
“This is Johan Jönson from our computer tech division,” Joona explains.
“Joona drive car,” Johan says with an exaggerated Finnish accent. “Road swerve, Joona no swerve.”
“Saga Bauer is an investigator with Säpo’s security department,” Joona continues.
“We work, we no talk, right?” asks Johan Jönson.
“Cut that out,” says Saga.
“We have to look at Palmcrona’s computer,” Joona says. “How long will it take?”
They start walking toward Palmcrona’s home office.
“You want to use it as evidence?” asks Johan.
“Yes,” says Joona.
“So you want me to copy the data?” asks Johan.
“How long will it take?” Joona repeats.
“You’ll have time to tell a few jokes to our colleague from Säpo,” Johan answers without moving.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Saga asks, irritated.
“By the way, are you dating anyone?” Johan asks with a shy smile.
Saga looks Johan straight in the eye and makes a definite nod. Johan looks down and mumbles something before he quickly follows Joona into Carl Palmcrona’s office.
Joona borrows a pair of protective gloves from Saga and flips through the mail in the in-box on the desk but doesn’t see anything special. There’s not much to see. A few letters from the bank and the accountant, some information from the governmental offices, test results from a back specialist at Sophia Hospital, and the minutes of the spring condo association meeting with ballot results.
They go back into the room where soft music had surrounded the hanging body. Joona sits down on a Carl Malmsten sofa and carefully waves his hand across the narrow ray of ice-blue light emanating from the music system. At once, the music of a single violin starts streaming through the speakers. A fragile melody sounds in the highest register, but carrying the temperament of a nervous bird.
Joona looks at his watch and then leaves Saga by the music system to walk back to the home office. Johan Jönson is no longer there. He’s sitting with his own computer at the kitchen table.
“Did it work?” asks Joona.
“What?”
“Could you copy Palmcrona’s data?”
“Of course. This is an exact copy,” Johan answers as if the very question is incomprehensible.
Joona walks around the table to look at the monitor.
“And his e-mail?”
Johan opens the program.
“Ta-da!” he says.
“We’ll go through everything from the past week,” Joona continues.
“Let’s start with the in-box.”
“Yes, let’s.”
“Do you think Saga likes me?” Johan asks.
“No,” Joona says.
“Love often begins with an argument.”
“So try pulling her hair.” Joona grins and then he points at the screen. Johan opens the in-box and smiles.
“Jackpot!” he says in English. “Voitto!” he adds in Finnish.
Joona sees three messages from [email protected].
“Open them,” he says.
Johan clicks on the first one and instantly Björn Almskog’s e-mail covers the entire screen.
“Jesus Christ Superstar,” whispers Johan in English.