her eyes so they flashed turquoise lights, and made sure to expand her bust by sighing deeply. “I didn’t know that Henrik had explosives in the box. He always kept it locked.”
“Didn’t you ever ask him what was in the box?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Why should I?”
“I’m the one asking the questions. Why didn’t you ever ask him what was in the box?”
For the first time she looked uncertain before she replied. “I wasn’t interested. He had so many gadgets and so much junk all over the place.”
“So you never cared about finding out what was in the box?”
“No.”
“Then you must understand that the prosecutor has good reason to suspect you of complicity in the bombings. A married couple can’t live together for years without the wife knowing that there are explosives in the bedroom.”
“But God da . . . I’m almost never there!”
“Almost never there? At the cabin at Marstrand?”
“Yes.”
“But you have keys to it? To the gate and the cabin?”
A clear glint of fear behind the turquoise film. “Yes . . .”
“Where are they?”
She knew it was serious now. The smell of fear broke through the perfume.
“I don’t know. I haven’t looked.”
“No, of course not. Shorty had the keys yesterday. He says you gave them to him.”
“He’s lying! He must have stolen them!”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“But we do know a few things. We know that Shorty drove by Långåsliden on Sunday evening, stayed barely fifteen minutes, and then drove straight up to Marstrand and killed your husband.”
“How do you know . . .?” She cut herself off and quickly bent her head. Her hair slid forward like a curtain in front of her face, a move she had learned from her mother-in-law. Irene recognized it at once. After a while she looked up and said in a low voice, “He came by to ask if I was planning to come to Bobo’s funeral next week.”
“Funny. He didn’t tell us that.”
Basically, Shorty had refused to say anything as soon as they started asking about Henrik’s murder, but Charlotte couldn’t know that. With an audible quaver in her voice she asked, “What did he tell you?”
“That you gave him the keys and directions to Marstrand.”
It was a long shot, but Irene could see that it struck home.
“He said that? He’s lying!”
“Why would he lie? He’ll be doing hard time for your husband’s murder and has everything to gain from putting you away too. You’ll be sent up for instigation of homicide, and he’ll be sentenced for doing the job at your request. It’ll be a lighter sentence. For him.”
A person familiar with the law wouldn’t have fallen for it. But Charlotte was both ignorant and scared.
“That asshole! He threatened me! He wanted to get hold of Henrik, and he forced me to tell him where Henrik was. If I didn’t give him the keys he was going to kill me.”
“Why didn’t you call Henrik on his cell phone?”
“I couldn’t remember the number. It’s a new phone.”
“So why didn’t you call the caretaker and ask him to warn Henrik? Or the police?”
Now the scent of fear pervaded the room.
“I did! But the caretaker wasn’t in.”
“We checked your phone calls from Sunday evening. None were made to Marstrand or the police. On the other hand, one was made to the Brasserie Lipp, to reserve a table. And that’s where you went later that evening. We checked it out. You were a lively bunch, from what I understood from the owner. He wanted to get hold of the guy who pulled down the lamp; it’s going to cost five thousand to replace. All right, one more time. Why didn’t you call Henrik and warn him? Or the police?”
“I didn’t dare. Shorty said he’d cut the baby out of my belly if I contacted anyone.”
“But you weren’t so upset that you couldn’t go out and party with your friends later that evening.”
She had no reply to that. She looked down at the table, under which she was hiding her shaking hands. Neither she nor Shorty had suspected that they were under surveillance. The police wouldn’t have known about his quick visit to Örgryte if they hadn’t been tailing him. She would have had a neat alibi at the restaurant with her pals and plenty of other people all around. Cunning, but not intelligent. Cunning approaching boldness, bordering on recklessness. All the ingredients necessary for successfully murdering Richard von Knecht. Add a little intelligence to the mix and the murder would have been much harder to solve. Maybe impossible.
Jonny