little—short, but not little. She was fat. She was wearing a white head scarf and a dark green jacket. And she had a big red shopping bag in her hand.”
That jibed with Marjatta’s description of what Pirjo was wearing. Irene decided to leave the car until later.
“Can you tell me what happened when Pirjo went over to the car?”
“She walked up to it. Bent down and began talking to someone inside the car.”
“What side of the car was she standing on?”
“She was on the curb. The driver of the car rolled down the window on the passenger’s side. But I didn’t see much, since the car was hiding the cleaning woman from my view.”
“So the driver had his back to you?”
“Yes. Although the windows of the car were so dark that I couldn’t see very well. But I think the driver had on a light jacket or coat.”
“Was it a man or a woman?”
“Couldn’t tell. But I think it was a man.”
“Why’s that?”
“I thought the driver was fairly tall. And when the car drove off, the cleaning woman waved a little after it. Like this.”
The old woman demonstrated a furtive wave. This reinforced Irene’s feeling that Pirjo must have known the person who gave her the keys. Hopefully she said, “Anything else you can recall?”
The woman really tried, but drew a blank. Irene asked for her name, address, telephone number, and Social Security number. Her name was Ester Pettersson and she was eighty-two years old. Irene felt her curiosity reawakened.
“It’s unusual for people to still be working at your age. Is it temporary?”
“Oh no, I’ve been in my shop for sixty-one years! My father used to own it, but he got T.B. and died. Mother was delicate. So I had to take care of the shop.”
“Didn’t you ever consider retiring?”
“Never! What in the world would I do?”
Irene declined her offer of coffee and promised to drop by again. A little bell tinkled when the door closed and shut off the olfactory symphony of foot powder, wart medicine, and liniment for tired feet.
BY ONE o’clock all three of them had returned to the car. Tommy had no new facts about the nighttime car exchange. Irene hadn’t had any nibbles other than the old lady in the foot-care shop. Fredrik had made enough progress with Quist that he was convinced the car Pirjo had approached was a larger sedan. Light-colored paint. Probably white or beige. Dark tinted windows. And then Fredrik had been invited to lunch, but as politely and firmly as possible he declined. He gave the excuse that he was having lunch with his girlfriend. Not because he was going steady with any girl just now, but there might be a chance of changing that. He decided not to tell Irene and Tommy about the lunch invitation. They were decent colleagues, not at all like Jonny, but he’d still never hear the end of a juicy detail like that! All in good fun, of course.
Tommy was looking thoughtfully at the stately art nouveau facade on the other side of Aschebergsgatan. He glanced up at the marble balustrade of the top floor and the now famous little turreted balcony. He mused, “I wonder if Sylvia von Knecht is home? I’d like to look in the garage again.”
Irene unlocked the car, took the card with Sylvia’s phone number out of her jacket pocket, and punched the number on her cell phone.
“Sylvia von Knecht’s residence,” a female voice answered in a lilting Finnish accent.
“Hello, my name is Detective Inspector Irene Huss. I’m looking for Sylvia von Knecht.”
“She’s gone up to Marstrand. One of the horses is sick.”
“When do you expect her back?”
“This evening.”
“What time?”
“No idea.” It was a cool but not at all unfriendly voice.
Irene decided to take a chance. “Are you Sylvia von Knecht’s sister? Arja Montgomery?”
“Yes, I am.”
“May we come up for a moment? We’re right outside your building, on Aschebergsgatan.”
After a brief pause she said hesitantly, “I don’t know . . . Sylvia doesn’t like having the police snooping around.”
“No, I know that. She’s a little fragile after all that’s happened. But she has always helped us in our investigation. Our problem at the moment is something that can be easily solved with your help. We just need to get into the garage on Molinsgatan. The key is on Richard’s car-key ring. It’s on his nightstand, next to the case with the apartment keys.”
Again a hesitant silence. Finally Arja said, resigned, “I’ll go see if I can find them.”
There was