the whole room before she said, “We moved here nine years ago. I think the move used up the last of my husband’s energy, because five months later he passed away. Nine years . . . imagine how time flies!”
Irene seized her chance. White lies seldom caused her any pangs of conscience. “Speaking of time, I can only stay for half an hour. I have an appointment at three. But it’s just around the corner.”
She added this last when she saw the expression of dismay come over Eva Karlsson’s face. Unable to conceal her disappointment, the thin little white-haired woman said, “Well then, do sit down and don’t waste any more of your precious time! The coffee is ready.”
She vanished down the dark hallway, and Irene could hear a distant clatter from the kitchen. It was located in the back, facing the courtyard. Fru Karlsson came in with the coffee and began to foist the pastries on her. Irene was thankful that she hadn’t eaten any lunch. Including the rolls and sponge cake, there were twelve varieties.
The elderly dachshund owner was voluble on every topic except the occurrence the previous evening. Irene had to hear about her childless but happy marriage, her years as a librarian at the public library, and the inexhaustible source of joy Snoopy had been for the past eight years. Feeling slightly desperate, Irene said no thanks to the tenth pastry—shortbread with raspberry jam—and decided to get to the point. She pushed away her coffee cup and turned into a police officer. In an official tone she said, “Fru Karlsson, I have to leave in a few minutes. You haven’t recalled anything new, now that the first shock has faded? You’re still sure you didn’t hear any scream?”
Realizing that the coffee party was over, Eva Karlsson slumped forward. With a slight quaver in her voice she said, “Dear Irene, please don’t act so formal with me. It feels so . . . foreign.”
Irene didn’t reply but she could see how much it cost the old woman to try to remember what had happened the night before. Fru Karlsson cast a pensive glance at the window in the den. She wasn’t thinking about the acute need to have the windows washed; it was a real attempt to concentrate and think. Now she couldn’t avoid it any longer. Her white-haired head nodded softly as she said, “He didn’t scream. I’m absolutely positive.”
Which also meant that Richard von Knecht was unconscious when he fell and struck the sidewalk. The pastries made a collective somersault in Irene’s stomach at the thought.
Snoopy was snoring loudly in his armchair and didn’t notice when Irene got up and thanked Fru Karlsson for the coffee and pastries.
SHE LEFT the car where it was. She wouldn’t find a parking place any closer to Kapellplatsen than this. The ones at the square were always taken by customers going to the bank, the state liquor store, or the small shops.
She entered the flower shop and asked where Dr. Tosse had his office. The friendly middle-aged woman pointed with a dirty thumb toward the escalators. She was busy planting hyacinths in a big basket. For the first time this year, Irene started to feel that Christmas was on its way. It had to be the scent of hyacinths, she thought, because outside an ice-cold drizzle was falling.
She took the escalator up one flight and found the door to Sven Tosse’s reception area. A shiny brass plate informed her that she was in the right place. She rang the bell, and in a moment a young dental assistant in a pale pink dress opened the door. Her smile was both warm and professional as she asked, “Hello, how can I help you?”
“Detective Inspector Irene Huss. I’m looking for Dr. Sven Tosse, regarding the murder of Richard von Knecht.”
The assistant’s violet-blue eyes became as round as her mouth. Quickly she stepped aside and silently ushered Irene into the waiting room. She vanished hastily down the corridor toward an open door, from which the whining sound of a dental drill could be heard. Irene gave a shudder. It was the sound and the smell. They were always the same in dentists’ waiting rooms. But that was the only similarity with other dental offices she had seen.
This waiting room was empty. A large handwoven wool rug in muted autumn tones lay on the floor. On the walls hung large prints. A bulging brown leather sofa and four matching armchairs, two small glass