Detective Inspector Huss: A Huss Investigation set in Sweden, Vol. 1 (50 page)

Tommy looked surprised and asked, “But isn’t it Sylvia who is her husband’s heir?”

“Yes. Except for an insurance policy. Sylvia told me about it herself. She and Henrik get half a million each over a period of ten years, in the event of Richard’s death.”

Fredrik gave a low whistle. After thinking a while he said, “From what I understand from you, Henrik and Richard von Knecht didn’t like each other much, right?”

“They weren’t exactly enemies. But according to Sylvia, Richard could never accept that Henrik’s personality changed after his meningitis.”

Irene looked at the clock. It was past four-thirty. Resolutely she said, “We have to call and see if Andersson is still at HQ. We’ll have to go there and present what we learned today. Then he has to decide the next plan of attack.”

They paid and got up to leave.

 

//

IRENE DROVE, with Fredrik sitting next to her and Tommy in the backseat. After they managed to escape the rush-hour traffic on Södra Vägen, Fredrik leaned forward and turned on the radio. The Sven-Ingvar hit about “The Only Blonde in Town” filled the car. Loud and off-key, they all joined in on the chorus. They giggled when the music faded out. A pleasant male voice rapidly announced, “And that’s all for
Melody Cavalcade
for today. This is Program Three. Time for
Today’s Echo at a Quarter to Five.”

Out of sheer reflex Irene stomped on the brakes, and almost got a taxi in her rear bumper.

Her male colleagues yelled simultaneously, “What are you doing?” “Watch out for the cab!”

Demonstrating discipline, she put on the blinker and turned down Burgårdsgatan. The gods must have accepted some offering she had made, because she lucked out and found an empty parking space. She turned off the engine and turned up the volume of the radio, staring as if entranced by the tiny glowing red and green lights on the car radio that showed it was on. Fascinated she whispered, “Listen, you guys, listen!”

“. . . no serious incidents in yesterday’s demonstrations in conjunction with the anniversary of Karl the Twelfth’s death. The police . . .”

Fredrik looked angry, mostly because of shock. “What was that all about? You could have caused an accident! Then they can say on the
Echo
tomorrow, ‘Three cops in Göteborg were the cause of a serious accident in rush-hour traffic yesterday, due to an acute brain malfunction on the part of the driver!’”

Tommy started to laugh, but Irene just waved her hand and didn’t take her eyes off the radio. Dramatically she said, “Didn’t you hear the sound of something cracking?”

Fredrik and Tommy exchanged a glance, filled with male bonding. Fredrik’s circling index finger next to his temple was enough. Irene saw it and started laughing too.

“What just cracked was Charlotte’s alibi. There isn’t any five o’clock news on the radio! It’s called
Today’s Echo at a Quarter to Five
because it’s on at a quarter to five!”

The two colleagues realized what she was getting at. That would give Charlotte an extra fifteen minutes, which would be plenty of time to reach Molinsgatan from Mölndalsvägen.

Tommy was the one who recovered first. “Is there really no five o’clock news?”

“No, not on the big radio stations. And since Charlotte’s Golf was brand new when she left the Volkswagen dealership on Tuesday afternoon, I doubt she had managed to set the button for any small local station that broadcast news.”

Tommy leaned forward between the front seats and said, “I think you’re right, Irene. We have to start keeping an eye on Henrik and Charlotte. But it’s clear that they have already done what they intended. Now they just have to lie low. If only we could get hold of a single piece of evidence that would hold up! Somebody who saw Charlotte on Molinsgatan on the night of the murder. A witness who saw Henrik load his gasoline cans in and out of the Porsche. But no! They were God damned lucky! All we have are circumstantial evidence and guesses!”

Irene agreed and started the car again. She took great pains to be an exemplary driver. It wasn’t good to subject her colleagues’ nerves to any more stress than necessary.

 

SUPERINTENDENT SVEN Andersson blew his nose on a piece of toilet paper. He had a headache, and his eyes and nose were running. He was considering going straight home to make himself a hot cognac toddy and crawl into bed, when the three inspectors called and reported red-hot new information in the von Knecht case. Quietly snuffling, he listened to their accounts of the day’s testimony and new leads.

He sat silent a long time and thought about what he had heard. Finally he said, “Well, I’ll be damned. Charlotte and Richard von Knecht! That’s a reasonable conclusion to draw after that neighbor’s testimony. But we have to have proof! It’s not such a good idea to watch Henrik or Charlotte. What they’re doing now isn’t as interesting as the deviltry they’ve already committed. We have to find more proof, and preferably the type that’s binding. Could they have planned to murder Richard von Knecht together?”

Tommy shook his head and said, “We discussed that, but we don’t think that’s how it happened. There’s plenty to indicate that the bombing was planned and carried out by one person and the actual murder by another. If Charlotte knew that Henrik had placed a bomb on Berzeliigatan, she wouldn’t have had to take any risks by murdering her father-in-law herself! All she had to do was wait for Richard to walk through the door of his office one last time.”

Andersson gave him a red-eyed look, wiped his copper-colored nose, and said thoughtfully, “You think that Charlotte is mixed up in the murder?”

Tommy nodded and motioned to Irene.

“We have no plausible motive for her, but Charlotte is the only one who doesn’t have a really good alibi. Not anymore, since Irene figured out the part about
Today’s Echo at a Quarter to Five.
So she left the Volkswagen dealership before five o’clock. It seems well planned, in view of the seduction of the little car salesman Skytter. She also had lots of opportunities to get hold of the keys,” he maintained.

The keys. Again Irene’s subconscious stirred. But nothing came to the surface. Annoyed, she had to try to concentrate on what the superintendent was telling them.

“Hannu talked to Pirjo’s children again today. And one of the little boys suddenly remembered that a man had called and asked for Pirjo on Wednesday morning. But Pirjo had just left to go clean the von Knechts’ apartment. The boy told this to the man on the phone. The daughter didn’t know anything about this call, because she was at school. It was a stroke of luck that Hannu thought of questioning the boys one more time.”

Fredrik did a double take on his chair and blurted out, “That’s exactly what I said! How could he know that Pirjo didn’t know the old man was dead, and that she would come to clean the place as usual that Wednesday morning? Now we know—he called to find out where she was!”

He paused, looked at his wristwatch, and continued quickly, “Excuse me, but I have to hurry to relieve Birgitta.”

The other three grinned broadly without saying a word. Everyone in the room knew that Birgitta finished her shift at six o’clock, which was now, and that Fredrik’s shift didn’t start until midnight. The color of his face began to match the superintendent’s nose as he nonchalantly said, “See you later. Have a great weekend, those of you who are off.”

Tommy’s response was swift, “Same to you, same to you. When you two are off.”

Fredrik pretended not to hear but hurried out the door.

Tommy laughed and said, “That guy could play the role of Lucia this year. Someone could walk behind him whispering, ‘Birgitta, Birgitta!’ Then his ears would light up, so we could skip the crown of lights!”

Irene jokingly shook her fist at him. “We shouldn’t tease them. I think they’re cute,” she admonished.

Andersson raised his eyebrows to his hairline. Not all the way, because then they would have wound up on the back of his neck. Vexed, he said, “Cute! We’re talking about two cops here! They’re not supposed to go around being cute on the job! That’s not right. Trouble with . . .
aaah-choo!”

Good thing he sneezed. Irene didn’t have to listen to him say
broads.
But she could imagine it. In an unconsciously maternal tone of voice she said, “Now you should really go home and take care of that cold.”

He glowered at her. He detested that kind of talk! “Yes, Mamma.”

He meant it to sound sarcastic, but it fell a little flat. He was really tired. Maybe he had a fever. What else did he have to say? Suddenly he remembered.

“There was one more thing that Hannu found out today. After Richard von Knecht and Valle Reuter had lunch, Richard went to the bank and withdrew ten thousand kronor. It was around four o’clock.”

The two inspectors looked surprised.

“Why didn’t Valle say anything about this before?”

“Good question. Can you find out, Irene? He likes female cops. Hannu called in this information an hour ago. He was going to keep going around the square asking questions.”

“What bank was it?”

“The SE-Bank on Kapellplatsen. The question is, what did von Knecht do with the money?”

He was interrupted by the phone ringing. He answered brusquely, “Andersson. Yes . . . I’ll be damned! Meet Irene and Tommy outside the front door on Molinsgatan. They’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Energetically he hung up the receiver and clapped his hands together.

“That was Hannu. He was in the bakery by the square talking to them just before they closed. Richard von Knecht came in and bought two open-faced sandwiches on Tuesday afternoon. Around four o’clock. Barely an hour and a half before he was murdered!”

 

THEY WERE lucky. Valle Reuter was home. Irene was about to hang up when he answered after a great many rings. Over the phone she introduced herself as Detective Inspector Huss. Would it be all right to come over and check some new information that had just turned up in the investigation? Yes, of course, she was quite welcome to come by for a visit. Had she tried Neil Ellis yet? Irene was rather disconcerted, but muttered something that could be interpreted as both yes and no. Ho ho, how tactful she was! But he just happened to take out a few bottles. This could be quite a pleasant evening!

Somewhat baffled, Irene hung up. But she had an idea what was going on.

“He thinks I’m the charming Birgitta. I—or rather Birgitta—have been invited to a wine tasting this evening,” she said chuckling.

Tommy gave a hearty laugh. “It would be a shame to disturb your little party. What do you say I go a round with Sylvia von Knecht? If I’m lucky she’ll still be at Marstrand. And little Arja might be in need of some entertainment. She certainly wasn’t hard to talk to.”

“Not bad looking either.”

“No. I prefer her mug to Valle’s.”

 

TOMMY CALLED Sylvia von Knecht from his cell phone. From his disappointed expression Irene understood that it was Sylvia herself who answered. She reluctantly agreed to a little “chat.”

“But not too long! I have my elderly mother here!”

Irene could hear her hoarse voice, even though Tommy had the phone pressed to his ear. She snorted when he hung up. “The elderly mother who’s well enough to bake cookies for the funeral! Even though there’s an excellent bakery right in the neighborhood. I know. I’ve tried everything they make.” With a shudder she remembered the coffee klatsch with the little dachshund owner.

Tommy asked, “Is that the same bakery where Richard von Knecht bought his sandwiches?”

“Yes, it is.”

She slowed down and put on her blinker. A free spot just fifty meters from the building they were going to. No chance of hoping for anything closer. They parked and headed toward the beautiful front door. Irene had an idea.

“Don’t forget to ask Sylvia about those sandwiches. According to her there weren’t any sandwiches in the fridge when she came home on Wednesday. Richard promised in their last phone call that he would pick some up.”

Tommy started to chuckle. “Imagine if the techs devoured them. So they wouldn’t be wasted. Sylvia wasn’t going to come home for a while, since she was in the psych ward,” he said, giggling.

Irene stopped short. “Good Lord, it’s not completely unlikely! We’ll have to ask them. Remind me about it.”

They had reached the front door. Hannu materialized silently at their side.

“Hi.”

“Heavens, you scared me! Hi.”

“Hello,” said Tommy. “It might be best if you accompany me up to see the ladies. And you understand Finnish if it’s needed.”

Sylvia had exceedingly reluctantly given them the code to the front door, and now they punched it in. With a soft humming the door indicated it was unlocked. They pushed it open and turned on the stairwell light.

Even though Irene knew that the paintings would be there, she was still amazed by them. Springtime floated toward her in his flowered cart, and on the other wall the fiddler played so hard the sweat was flying. She hurried up the steps to spend a moment with the graceful black marble swan on the floor of the foyer. She glanced at Hannu but couldn’t see the slightest glimmer of response. He stepped purposefully up to the elevator and opened the door. Irene thought it was silly to take the elevator up one floor, but she did anyway.

 

VALLE REUTER opened the door with a broad, welcoming smile on his face. It was extinguished at once when he caught sight of Irene. Disappointed, he said, “Who are you? And where is that sweet little police sister?”

“I’m Detective Inspector Irene Huss. Just as I told you on the phone. Apparently you’re confusing me with Detective Inspector Birgitta Moberg. She was the one you talked to at headquarters last week. Right now she’s busy with a major investigation concerning one of Sweden’s worst narcotics criminals.”

She couldn’t help herself. It slipped out of her before she could think. It was in reaction to that “police sister” line.