the departures on Monday and Tuesday with all of the airlines. But one person spent the night in Göteborg. He left Heathrow at seven twenty on Monday evening and returned at seven ten on Tuesday morning. Furthermore, he had reserved a rental car at Avis, a dark-blue Volkswagen Polo.”
Irene was in suspense. The decal on the back window of the car that the dog owner had seen could very well have been an advertisement for Avis.
“What was his name?” she croaked tonelessly.
“Andrew St. Clair.”
Hannu gave her the information he had gotten from the airline. Irene pulled out her little notebook and wrote it down.
Glen was looking at her curiously when she hung up.
“Good or bad news?” he said.
She looked at him and answered, “Don’t know. Or maybe. . . .”
She pulled herself together to explain what Hannu’s investigation had turned up. For once he was quiet for almost a minute.
“Andrew St. Clair. One of Scotland’s richest men . . . why would he fly to Göteborg and murder Rebecka’s family?”
They ended up at a small Indian restaurant not far from Whitley’s. It would have been fun to walk around the large department store again, but shopping was the last thing on Irene’s mind now. She hardly noticed how good the tandoori smelled and tasted.
“The personal ID number on the list from the airline matches that of Andrew St. Clair. He’s almost a year older than Christian,” said Glen.
He looked thoughtfully at the paper where Irene had scribbled the information she had gotten from Hannu, and then he brightened up.
“Now I remember something from my studies of the gossip columns! He’s going to be married soon. There was a big article about the upcoming wedding in which it was referred to as the Society wedding of the year.”
“That doesn’t explain anything. Why would a rich Scot go to Göteborg and shoot three complete strangers?” Irene asked.
Glen looked at her for a while. “Do we know that they were strangers to him?”
Irene thought about this before she answered, “No. Actually not.”
“There’s only one thing to do,” Glen said firmly.
“What?”
“Ask him.”
Irene would have to look after herself during the afternoon. Glen had to discuss how they would carry out the remainder of the investigation with his boss. Before they split up, they decided to meet at Restaurant Vitória at six o’clock.
During her first visit, she had told Glen that she wasn’t interested in old buildings, but there actually was one in a tourist brochure that had appealed to her. Her idea was that she could wander around in a large, quiet building and use the opportunity to collect her thoughts. At the same time, she would be able to learn about some interesting cultural history.
She felt she was being brave when she decided to take the subway, the London Underground. The only subway she had ever taken before was in Stockholm. She found it surprisingly easy to orient herself using the electronic signs, and after several minutes the train she was waiting for came. She got off at the St. Paul’s stop without any problem and walked up into the daylight to visit the cathedral.
St. Paul’s Cathedral had been described in her brochure from the hotel as “impressive.” She had to agree. She soon realized, though, that she could forget about devoting herself to tranquil contemplation. People swarmed everywhere. The magnificent domes, arching shockingly high over her head, made her feel like an insignificant miniature.
She dared to sneak into a group that had an English-speaking guide. He recounted the cathedral’s history. The first building had been constructed as early as 604 a.d. by King Ethelbert, the first English king to allow himself to be baptized. A cathedral was added, but in 961 the Vikings burned it down. Irene had guilt feelings on her forefathers’ behalf. The buildings were affected by several later fires through the centuries; and during the Great Fire of 1666, St. Paul’s was consumed by the flames. That gave Christopher Wren the chance to perform his life’s work: the new St. Paul’s Cathedral.
Irene walked around for several hours admiring wall and ceiling paintings, statues, and carvings. She admitted that she was both overwhelmed and fascinated. She bought a stack of cards from a souvenir seller whose booth sign stated that profits from sales went to the upkeep of the church.
It was time to head back to the hotel. She wanted to freshen up before she met Glen and Donna. This time she wouldn’t fall asleep in the bathtub.
DONNA WELCOMED Irene