So you saw the noose hanging from the ceiling on the evening of June second, went home, returned the next morning, the third of June, saw the noose still hanging there, met Palmcrona, left the apartment, and then returned on the fifth of June at two p.m. when you met Detective Linna.
The notes state she shrugged her shoulders at this point.
Could you tell us something about those four days? he asked.
I come to Director Palmcronas apartment every morning at six. I am only allowed to use my key early in the morning, since Palmcrona sleeps until six thirty. He keeps regular hours and he never sleeps in, not even on Sunday. I grind the coffee beans in the hand grinder, cut two slices of brown bread, and spread extra salted margarine on them before I place two slices of truffle-filled liver pate and pickles along with one slice of cheddar cheese to one side. I set the table with starched linen and the summer porcelain. I must remove all advertisements and the sports section from the morning papers and place them, folded, on the right side of his plate.
With minute detail she ran through the entire preparation of Wednesdays ground-veal patties in cream sauce as well as her preparations for Thursdays lunch.
When she got to the point where she returned to the apartment with food for the weekend and rang the doorbell, she fell silent again.
I understand that this might be difficult for you, John Bengtsson said after some more time had passed. But Ive been listening to your every word for quite a while. You have gone through Wednesday and Thursday but not once have you said anything that might touch on Palmcronas unexpected death.
She said nothing.
I ask you to search your memory again, John Bengtsson said with great patience. Did you know that Carl Palmcrona was dead when you rang the doorbell?
No.
Did you or did you not ask Detective Linna whether he had been cut down yet? John asked, irritation creeping into his voice.
Yes, I did.
Had you already seen him dead?
No, I had not.
But what the hell! Johns irritation burst forth. Cant you just tell me what you know? What made you ask whether wed taken him down or not? You were the one who asked that! Why did you ask if you didnt even know that he was dead?
John Bengtsson noted that hed unfortunately allowed himself to be provoked by the womans stolid avoidance of direct answers and that after hed cursed, shed closed up like a clam.
Are you accusing me of a crime? she asked coolly.
No.
Then I believe that were finished.
We would really like your help
I remember nothing else, she said as she got up from the chair.
Joona looks at Saga. Her eyes are fixed straight ahead.
Im thinking about the interview with the housekeeper, he says.
Me, too.
John got fed up with her attitude and thought she was contradicting herself. He assumed that she knew that Palmcrona was dead when she rang the bell and we answered.
Right, Saga says, still not taking her eyes from the road.
But she was speaking the simple truth. She really did not know that he was dead. She believed he might be, but wasnt sure, he continues. Thats why she said no to his statement.
Edith Schwartz sounds like an unusual woman.
Joona says, I believe shes trying not to lie but still keep something secret from us.
46
Neither Joona nor Saga believe theyll be able to get anything important from Edith Schwartz, but perhaps she can reveal where the photograph might be. They need it to solve this case.
Saga turns west onto Route 77 underneath the highway viaduct on the way to Knivsta, then almost immediately turns off onto a small gravel road paralleling the highway.
Low spruce forests line fallow fields. The masonry edge of a manure pool has broken and its tin roof is hanging lopsidedly.
We should be there, Saga says with a glance at the GPS.
They slowly roll up to a rusty boom and stop. As Joona gets out, he hears the dull drone of traffic on the highway. Twenty meters along, they can see a one-story house of dirty yellow brick. Decorative shutters are screwed on, and moss covers asbestos cement sheeting on the roof.
As they approach the house, they hear an unusual whirring sound. They glance at each other and move cautiously toward the outer door of the house. A rattling noise is coming from out back; then they hear the metallic whine again, coming closer. Racing around the house comes a German shepherd, mouth gaping wide. He slams to a stop a meter away from Saga, jerked back onto his hind legs by a long leash. He shuffles back a little, crouches, and begins to bark. He tosses his head from side to side to set himself free. As he jumps, the leash slides along a wire line with a whining, rattling sound.
The dog turns to rush at Joona but is choked back again. He barks dementedly but stops the second he hears a voice from inside the house.
Nils! a woman commands.
They hear the floor creak inside and a moment later the door opens. The dog scurries back behind the house and the whirring sound disappears with him.
We need to talk to you, Joona says.
Ive already told the police everything I know, she replies.