The Fire Dance (15 page)

Irene decided to ask another question that had been on her mind since 1989. “How did you meet Ernst Malmborg?” Angelika jerked, as if she’d forgotten Irene was even in the room. She wrinkled her brow unhappily and appeared to reflect, then shrugged and said in a voice devoid of emotion, “I was still studying dance, but managed to get a job with a dance troupe. We performed in a festival of modern ballet and music. Ernst had written a piece for one of the numbers. A girl named Gisela and I performed it. The piece was called
Night and Day
, and Ernst thought we looked like night and day. Gisela is very light, almost an albino. And, as you see, I’ve always been a bit more, shall we say, brunette.”

For the first time since she’d entered the room, she smiled
flirtatiously and gave Tommy a glance from behind her eyelashes. Tommy’s expression said he definitely preferred a girl with a bit more melanin. In order to dispel the attraction between the two, Irene asked a new question.

“Was that Gisela Bagge? The woman who is now the Director of Instruction at the House of Dance?”

Angelika seemed surprised. “Do you know her? Yes, she’s the one.”

How interesting that Gisela was back in the picture. Why hadn’t Angelika mentioned her before? On the other hand, fifteen years ago Irene had been focusing on Sophie and not on Ernst or Angelika.

“I met her at the House of Dance this morning. She told me there would be a premiere of Sophie’s ballet,
The Fire Dance
, soon.”

Angelika nodded. “Yes, the first piece Sophie choreographed. She called it ‘A Saga in Dance.’ I didn’t go to any of the rehearsals because she told me she wanted to surprise me. Frej is in the ballet.”

“Frej dances?” Irene exclaimed in surprise.

“Of course he does. He’s been dancing since he was very young. Lately he’s been studying photography instead. All he dances these days is capoeira. He doesn’t have time for anything else.”

“Capoeira? Is this a ballet done with capoeira?” Irene was confused.

“There is no such thing as a capoeira ballet. Capoeira is more like an exhibition.” Angelika couldn’t help smiling through her tears.

She dried her eyes and blew her nose again. Talking about dance seemed to calm her down. Perhaps because dance was her world and she felt more in control of the line of questioning.

“Of course, I was curious what she was up to and I tried to pump Frej for information. From what he said, there is some
capoeira in this piece, as well as some daring new moves. I am really happy that they decided to go ahead with rehearsals so the premiere can go forward as planned. It certainly would be what Sophie would have wanted.”

T
OMMY AND
I
RENE
sat together for a while after Angelika left. They discussed the case. Irene walked over to the map of Göteborg hanging on the wall. She tapped a spot with her forefinger and said, “Here is the crime scene. It is on the outskirts of the oldest part of the Högsbo Industrial Area. Nothing’s going on here because the buildings are going to be demolished for the new pharmaceutical plant. The actual shed in question is especially deserted since it faces the Nature Reserve of Änggård Mountain. It’s just two kilometers from Änggården.”

She moved her finger and tapped another spot on the map. “Here’s Angelika’s apartment on Distansgatan. It’s equally distant from the crime scene. Sophie disappeared from Park Aveny Hotel here.”

Irene turned to Tommy. She ticked off her questions on her fingers.

“Why did Sophie leave Park? How did she disappear? Who met her? Where was she taken? Where was she kept for three weeks? Why was she transported to the industrial area? Why was she abused? Why was she drugged? And the most important question: Who did all this to her?”

Tommy leaned back in his chair and gave Irene a taunting look. “My dear Watson, we will have the answer to that question once we’ve found the killer, not before.”

“I believe Sherlock needed to take cocaine to think. Right now I need a different kind of stimulant,” Irene said and sighed.

She walked out of the office to get two cups of coffee from the machine.

K
ATARINA HAD NOTHING
else to do, so she was happy to join Irene to go see capoeira. Their dog, Sammie, jumped into the back of their Combi. He loved taking car rides. In his old age, he preferred riding in the car to going on long walks. For his whole eleven-year lifespan, he’d always believed the car belonged to him. His owners were allowed to drive it due to his largesse. In the last few years, he even allowed the younger family members to drive, as long as he could ride along.

At his last veterinary appointment, Sammie was diagnosed with cataracts in both eyes. During the day, it didn’t seem to bother him much, but in the evenings it did. He no longer wanted to go for walks once it got dark. The once-plucky terrier now would bark at imagined ghosts whenever the wind rustled the tree branches or shadows moved outside the shine of the streetlights. More and more often, he would bang into mailboxes and posts. With a pang of sorrow, Irene realized that her beloved dog was truly getting old.

They parked near a streetlight so that it wouldn’t get too dark in the car. The temperature was nearing freezing, but Sammie would still be fine in the car for an hour or two. Irene wrapped him up in his blanket, and he sighed contentedly as he settled into his nest. It had been three months since his last professional grooming—his shaggy coat would help keep him warm.

There were many more people in the cafeteria than there had been that morning, and the air was filled with laughter and conversation. Irene caught sight of Frej’s blond hair in the crowd. He was sitting next to the girl with pink braids, the girl Irene had watched earlier that morning as she practiced capoeira. Irene headed toward them.

“Hello again,” she said, smiling.

Frej looked up. “Hello. What are you doing here?” he said, without enthusiasm.

“I’m going to talk to Marcelo Alves after the session, and Felipe Medina has promised to interpret for me. I brought my daughter Katarina along so she could take a look at capoeira. She’s interested in the martial—”

Irene was stopped in the middle of the sentence by Katarina, who gently but firmly moved her aside. Katarina held out her hand to greet Frej and his female friend.

Frej smiled widely when he saw Katarina. Irene was again aware of how charming he could appear, in spite of that ugly soul patch. A style of the times, Irene thought. Was it rappers who started it? Hip-hop artists? Anyway, it was popular among the young men these days. Irene remembered seeing that tiny, square beard on some of the younger male reporters on television as well.

The pale capoeira dancer introduced herself as Lina.

“Do any of you have a key so we can get in there?” asked Irene, pointing at the glass doors closing off the hall to the rehearsal rooms.

“No, Marcelo has it. He lets us in half an hour before class so we can change,” Frej replied.

“He’s coming now,” Lina said, rising.

As if his name summoned him, Marcelo appeared in the hall on the other side of the glass doors. Irene had never seen him in person before; she’d only read his name in the police reports. He was just a tad bit shorter than Irene. He was
dressed the way the other male capoeira dancers had that morning: bare chest and wide, white pants. He had delicate features, but was still attractive in a masculine way. Dark eyes dominated his face with their long, thick lashes; a small smile played around his well-formed lips; and his long, dark brown hair sprang up in curly locks around his head. His way of moving reminded Irene of a sleek feline—control over every single muscle while still completely relaxed.

Both male and female faces turned toward the door when he opened it. From a separate table, the rest of the capoeira group got up. Irene remembered them from earlier that morning.

Irene went to Marcelo and introduced herself. Felipe Medina came over to them immediately.

“I’ve already told Marcelo you’d like to talk to him and I’d interpret,” Felipe said.

Marcelo smiled and nodded in agreement, but he didn’t say anything. Irene wondered how much Swedish he actually understood.

As Frej walked past her, Irene said, “Hey, Frej, I’d like to stop by and take a look at Sophie’s apartment again.”

“Why? The police have already gone through it more than once.”

“I know, but my boss wanted me to take another look just in case there’s anything we missed. Are you home tomorrow afternoon?”

Frej looked at her resentfully, then shrugged. “I’m done by two or three, so, like, three thirty.”

“All right, I’ll be there at three thirty.”

Frej nodded and disappeared into the changing room.

K
ATARINA FOUND CAPOEIRA
totally fascinating. She was as impressed by the acrobatics and sparring as Irene had been. Once the session was over, she said with determination, “I’m going to start taking capoeira.”

“What? What about your jiujitsu?” Irene exclaimed, alarmed.

Katarina sighed and rolled her eyes. “That’s
your
thing. You were the best in the world, not me. I’ll never be as good as you. I want to go into something different.”

“I wasn’t the best in the world,” Irene protested. “Just Europe.”

Still, deep inside, Irene knew that Katarina was right. Her daughter had never enjoyed jiujitsu as much as Irene had. In her last year at school, she had trained every single day. The other side of the coin was that her grades weren’t as good as they could have been. Still, the year after graduation, she’d won the European championship.

Katarina had been in the junior league, and she had placed well, but during the past six months, she’d been losing motivation. Perhaps she did need to try something new. Irene tried to look at it positively, but she had trouble swallowing the lump in her throat.

When the class ended, Katarina went over to talk to Frej and Lina while Irene moved toward Marcelo and Felipe.

“We need to take a shower first,” Felipe said. “Let’s meet back in fifteen minutes.”

“That’s fine,” Irene said.

She walked back into the rehearsal room, which was now redolent with the smell of sweat. The ventilation in the ceiling was working full force and would soon clear the air. To tell the truth, Irene loved the smell of sweat in workout rooms. It spoke of people keeping their bodies in shape. She was a physical person, as her husband often said. Katarina and Frej were chatting in one corner, and Irene headed toward them, but when Frej noticed her approach, he quickly said goodbye to both of them and walked away.

“He’s going for a shower,” Katarina explained.

Katarina took a few tentative hops in front of the
floor-to-ceiling mirror. She whirled in a clumsy pirouette and came to a stop in front of Irene.

“A beginners’ class is starting in January, and I’m going to register. This summer, they’re going to have a three-week intensive, and I plan to go.”

Irene still felt the lump of disappointment in her throat, so she could only nod. Katarina was eighteen, the age of adulthood in Sweden, and in the spring, she’d be nineteen. She could now marry whomever she pleased without permission from her parents. She had the right to vote. She was old enough to go to jail. Of course, Irene could not forbid her to take capoeira instead of jiujitsu. Katarina was free to train in any sport she wanted.

As if she could sense Irene’s distress at her decision to change her martial arts focus, Katarina rested her hand on Irene’s arm.

“I’m not going to stop jiujitsu completely. Capoeira is only twice a week, so I can, you know, keep doing jiujitsu once a week or so.”

Marcelo and Felipe came back a few minutes later dressed in thin black jazz pants and tight white T-shirts. Felipe pulled out two mats and set them on the floor. As he moved, the wooden beads at the ends of his braids clicked.

“Go ahead and sit on this one,” he said with a smile, pointing to one of the mats.

Irene and Katarina sat down opposite the two dancers. The aroma of men’s body wash reached them.

“We only have half an hour. Marcelo has to teach a salsa class. I’m going to stick around to help get the class going. They’re all a bunch of newbies. Maybe you’d like to stick around?” Felipe smiled encouragingly at both mother and daughter.

“Yes! I’d love that!” exclaimed Katarina. Her face shone like the sun.

“It would be fun, but my dog is in the car, and I don’t want him to get too cold …” Irene started.

“But I’m staying,” Katarina said.

The two young men smiled at her, and Irene felt a twinge of worry. Both of these men were extremely attractive—much too attractive.

To recapture the initiative, she said, “So, let’s get right to it. My first question for Marcelo is very personal. Still, it’s extremely important that I have an honest answer.”

She paused to give Felipe the chance to interpret what she just said. Felipe spoke in swift Portuguese. Marcelo raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. He nodded as he looked over at Irene.

“Witnesses interviewed about the night Sophie disappeared had the impression that Marcelo and Sophie were together—a romantic couple. Is this true?”

Felipe’s eyes widened a bit, but he quickly interpreted the question. Marcelo laughed softly, but then his expression sobered again. He looked directly at Irene and said something with great emphasis. Felipe did not have to finish interpreting for Irene to understand that he denied this.

“He says that they were, like, good friends, but they weren’t a couple. No
bazza
. Sophie was a difficult and unusual person. Marcelo didn’t understand her, but they had a good working relationship with
The Fire Dance
.” Felipe smiled broadly. “Marcelo and I are both in
The Fire Dance
. You have to come on Wednesday and watch the premiere!”

This was the second invitation to the premiere Irene had received, and she nodded. Her curiosity had been awakened, and now she actually wanted to see it. She had never seen a live dance performance in her life; she’d only watched dance on TV.

“Wednesday? I’m going to skip jiujitsu and come with,” Katarina exclaimed.