Frozen Moment (34 page)

    'Who
was with Bart in
town.
'

    
'Exactly.
And I just felt that everything was so bloody unpleasant
that I took the first chance I could find to chuck Bart out, which happened to
be a month later. He was a bit late with the rent, just a few days - he often
was and it didn't usually bother me - but that was the reason I gave for
cancelling the contract with immediate effect.'

    He
exhaled.

    'How
did Bart react to being kicked out like that?'

    Franzén
looked thoughtful.

    'Well,
that's what was so peculiar. He hardly reacted at all. He just nodded and
agreed to be out in two weeks. Then, the following day, he turned up here in
the shop.' He pointed at the floor in front of him.
'Absolutely
livid, but in a really nasty way.
Quietly menacing is how I'd put it. I
remember he really gave me the creeps.'

    'Do
you remember what he said?'

    Franzén
shook his head.

    
'Not exactly.
As I said, it was several years ago. But he
hinted at a few things about my business, and I think, if I remember rightly,
he talked about how you need to be insured because anything could happen… At
any rate, I interpreted it as a threat.'

    'Did
you report it?'

    'No,'
Franzén admitted. 'I was just glad to get rid of him. I didn't see him after that.
By the way, I didn't tell Ernst and Anette about the incident, so I'd be
grateful if you didn't mention it to them.' When Franzén saw Karlberg's raised
eyebrows, he went on, 'The thing is, I didn't want to worry them unnecessarily,
as they were neighbours of his. And if they find out I've kept it from them…'

    Karlberg
nodded. He looked around the office as he fished his card out of his wallet.
While they had been talking the door to a big cupboard behind Franzén had swung
open, revealing shelves of CDs - an impressive amount for a heating and
plumbing shop. Franzén noticed the direction of Karlberg's gaze, and beamed
like a proud father on a maternity ward.

    'I
spend almost as much time here as I do at home. And at home - well, you know
how it is - there's never any time, what with the kids and such, so one day I
brought the whole lot over here. My wife isn't all that interested in music
anyway.'

    He
got up and ran his hand lovingly over the cases.

    'My
older brother ran the business before he moved abroad,' he explained. 'So I
thought, why not? A job is a job, and I needed a job at the time. Not that
business is exactly booming these days. Big DIY superstores have popped up all
over the place, and I can't match their prices.'

    He
looked gloomy, but only for a moment.

    'I've
always dreamed of running a record shop, ever since I was a little boy. It was
vinyl then, of course. Do you like country?'

    'Er,
not particularly,' said Karlberg honestly, and a light went out in Franzén's
eyes; evidently there was more to him than at first appeared.

    'Only
there's a new wave of singer-songwriters coming along.

    They've
got the heritage of country culture in their bones, but they've developed it
and made it a bit easier to digest.'

    He
searched the shelves eagerly for something that might appeal to a sceptic.

    Karlberg
moved politely but firmly towards the door. 'I'm not much of an expert,' he
said apologetically. He was saved by a customer who had walked into the shop
looking as if he wanted a guided tour.

    Franzén
sighed heavily as if he regarded customers as nothing more than an interruption
to his musical experience. 'I don't usually get anybody in at this time of
day.'

    Karlberg
seized the opportunity to take his leave.

    As
he had arrived two hours later than agreed, he could hardly complain about
being shunted around like a hypochondriac at AE.

    Tell
was in the dirty yellow brick building that housed the family care section of
social services. On the telephone he had been promised a morning meeting with a
member of the management team. However, it had taken him longer than expected
to get the necessary permission for access to confidential notes. When he
turned up late, the person he was supposed to see had gone off to a meeting.

    After
Tell had painstakingly explained the order of priority when it came to a murder
enquiry and a management meeting, a secretary offered to try to find the leader
of the children's and young people's section instead.

    'I'm
sure she'll be able to help, given that the information you're looking for
relates to a childcare issue. But I think she was supposed to be in court this
morning.'

    Sitting
there with nothing to do in the section leader's waiting area, Tell's thoughts
drifted to Seja and the New Year they had welcomed in together, a perfect night
and morning in many ways. At the same time they had both silently wished
everything were more straightforward.

    He
had sensed in Seja a hesitation, just for a while,
then
it was gone again. But he couldn't work out what it was all about.

    When
it emerged that the section leader in question wouldn't be back until after
lunch, Tell left the building grinding his teeth and set off to walk around the
square in the centre of Angered.

    The
usual gang of alkies were shouting to each other outside the door of the
off-licence. A face from the past suddenly registered.

    Lisa
Jönsson. He had known her since he'd started on the beat, when she was a skinny
stroppy hollow-eyed teenager hanging around Femmanstorg. Later he had come
across her via the vice squad; she'd ended up on the streets to finance her
heroin habit. It was many years since he'd last seen her, and on that occasion
she'd been beaten black and blue. She had wanted to report her boyfriend for
abuse. Whether she'd gone through with it or not he didn't know, as it had no
longer been his job to deal with that sort of thing. He'd left the dog days as
a beat officer behind.

    
I'd
have put money on her being dead.
They didn't usually get to be very old,
these girls.
Because Lisa was in no way unique.
Girls
swarmed around bad boys like Ronny, Lisa's boyfriend and pimp, who had become
vicious and emotionless from the constant need to survive, dodging and weaving
to satisfy the constant craving for drugs. Boys with only a couple of teeth
left who hit their girlfriends because that was the only way they could feel
they were in control, at least for a little while. And then there were the boys
who played in a higher league, boys who bought and sold and delegated
responsibility to underlings who had to learn to hit first and think later. Who
lived by the motto
Rule by
fear.
They were also
surrounded by girls living a dangerous life in a world where nothing but your
latest proof of loyalty counted and a single mistake could cost you your life.
Boys like that wouldn't touch Lisa with a bargepole.

    She
had acquired long red plaits made of wool that hung down past her slender
boyish hips. When you saw her like that, from behind, you could easily have
taken her for a girl of thirteen.

    It
was a real shock when she turned around. Tell was surprised, both at how the
past can suddenly catch up with you when you least expect it, and also at the
fact that a man who has been a policeman for over twenty years can still be
shaken when he is confronted with a reminder of how vulnerable human beings can
be.

    He
thought about going over to her, but decided against it.
Perhaps
because she was holding on to a vicious-looking dog tugging at its lead, or
because the drunks around her were so numerous and noisy.
Besides which,
Tell was not sentimental enough to think she would recognise him. She had met
hundreds of coppers over the years. He'd met hundreds of girls addicted to
heroin, but for some reason she had made an impression on him, perhaps because
he had been so young at the time and still imagined that he could help. As time
went by the bloody bruised faces of the women he met through his job had melted
into one. Perhaps to him Lisa's face was representative of… of what, exactly?
The dark side of society?
Women's
vulnerability?

    'What
are you looking at?' bawled one of the drunks, taking a couple of unsteady
steps towards Tell and shaking his fist.

    Lisa
Jönsson looked Tell in the eye for a moment. He thought he saw the muscles in
her face twitch before she lowered her gaze. She probably didn't recognise him
at all; it was just that she could recognise a cop, any cop, from a mile away.
He knew that people who live outside the framework of the law can do that, even
though the police don't really understand what it is that gives them away.

    Or
else Lisa Jönsson simply looked away because old habits die hard.

    Finally,
after being delayed by a further half an hour, section leader Birgitta Sundin
marched into her office. Tell was already sitting in a red armchair next to the
table.

    Sundin
was an older woman with glasses, her grey hair cut in a bob. A brightly
coloured shawl was draped around her shoulders, in stark contrast to her
otherwise severe clothing.

    'I've
been told why you're here, but I don't know enough about the situation to be
able to give you anything at this point,' she said, her voice tense.

    Tell
could feel the rage
bubbling
up inside him.

    She
quickly added, 'But as soon as I've spoken to Eva Andersson, our manager, I
will personally ensure that all the relevant material is sent over to you by courier.
If it's here, that is. There is a risk that the material you're looking for has
been destroyed as we're talking about papers that are almost forty years old.'

    Her
mobile phone started to vibrate. She linked her hands firmly in front of her as
if to ensure they wouldn't reach for the phone against her will.

    'I'm
sorry you've had a wasted journey,' she added.

    'That's
not good enough,' said Tell. 'I have been informed that the notes I'm looking
for were included in the percentage saved for research purposes, so I know they
haven't been destroyed. They do exist, either here or in some archive. I have
all the necessary papers in order and I'm not leaving here until I have
received what I need for my murder investigation.'

    Sundin's
telephone vibrated once again, and this time, to Tell's surprise, she had the
nerve to answer it. She spun her chair round so that she was facing away from
him, but quickly concluded the monosyllabic conversation.

    'Actually
that was Eva. She'd already got the notes out. She put them away in her filing
cabinet when you didn't arrive at the agreed time.'

    
A pause to ensure that Tell had grasped the point.

    'Yes,
yes, carry on.'

    'Her
secretary will unlock the cabinet for you.'

    Tell
stood up and noted that the conversation with Birgitta Sundin had taken exactly
five minutes.

    'So
is that it then? Thank you so much for your assistance,' he couldn't help
saying sarcastically.

    Sundin
pushed her hair behind her ears, irritated at first. Then the air suddenly went
out of her. Or, as Tell would later say to Karlberg,
She managed to pull the
poker out of her arse.

    She
sighed and leaned forward slightly. 'I'm
sorry,
I
didn't get your name.'

    'Detective
Inspector Christian Tell.'

    She
passed him one of his gloves, which had fallen to the floor.

    'Detective
Inspector Tell. It's not that I don't realise how important it is for you to
have these notes, but I was put in a difficult situation here. You must also
realise that I would be guilty of serious professional misconduct if I didn't
check that everything was in order.'

    Without
replying he extended a hand across the desk.

    She
didn't take it.

    'Sit
down for a moment,' she said. 'I think I might be able to help you with something.
I realise we may have got off on the wrong foot.'