around the fire. Charcoal burns longer than regular wood. It becomes very hot and everything is thoroughly incinerated.
“Charcoal and lighter fluid. So the murderer had planned on burning the diskettes and the cassettes. He knew what he would find before the murders and what he would do with it,” Tommy concluded.
“But, of course, he had a little bit of bad luck. The wind probably blew this out of the fire, because it was caught in a bush a few meters away from it. We think it’s the cover from a match book. Advertising matches.”
Svante bent and fished out a smaller plastic bag. At first, Irene thought it was empty; but then she saw a small burned piece of light cardboard in one corner. After yet another deep rummage in the roomy bag, Svante stood and leaned a large piece of paper against the flip-over notebook stand behind him.
“An enlargement,” he said and stepped to the side so that they all could see.
Pu
Mosc
“Moscow. A Russian bastard who comes from Moscow,” said Jonny Blom. He laughed to show that it was a joke. Nobody paid attention to his remark.
“‘Pu.’ Could it be, for example, ‘public’ or ‘pub’?” Irene asked.
“Possibly. The edge of the paper ends right after the ‘u’ in ‘Pu’ and after the ‘c’ in ‘Mosc.’ I’m a bit uncertain as to whether there really is a small ‘e’ in front of the ‘Pu,’ but it looks most like an ‘e.’ It has a different appearance than the other letters. Old-fashioned script style.”
“Gothic,” said Hannu.
“If you say so. . . .” said Svante.
He nodded to himself as if he had gotten something confirmed. Then he continued, “The text is white on a black background, except for the gothic ‘e,’ which is gold-colored.”
Something flickered at the very back of Irene’s memory, but it was too faint for her to make out what it was. Had she really seen that writing somewhere? She let it go, since she wasn’t sure.
She bought GT on the way home. The headlines proclaimed: “Pastor with connections to Satanic murders bore false witness!”
You’re managing, little Kurt, she thought contentedly.
MAUNDY THURSDAY started beautifully. The weather service had promised fine weather for the entire weekend, but their promises were not very dependable. In Irene’s opinion, you could put more stock in Eva Möller’s crystal balls and spells, or magical formulas. Speaking of whom, Irene found herself wondering if she had been hypnotized or ingested some kind of hallucinogenic drug at that strange witch’s place. But then she hadn’t had time to eat or drink anything. Had what she thought she had seen and experienced really happened?
She thought about it when she put on her jacket to get the car and drive to work.
Running into Mrs. Bernhög at the gate felt like a confirmation of her thoughts. Little Felicia tumbled around on a thin pink silk leash.
“I’m teaching her to walk on a leash. Just a few minutes a day to get her accustomed,” Margit Bernhög confided.
The apricot-colored furball sat and sniffed at a faded crocus. Pollen in her nose made her start to sneeze. She was irresistibly cute, and Mrs. Bernhög tenderly picked her up. Irene couldn’t help but pat Felicia on her back. Then the kitten peered up at Irene’s face. Irene realized that she recognized the look.
“KJELL SJÖNELL, pastor, has called. You have his number,” said a note lying on top of the pile on her desk. He’s a morning person, this pastor, thought Irene. She felt completely exhausted, but she was going to have her Easter holiday soon. The long vacation loomed just ahead of her.
Morning prayers was quick and short. Annoyingly, Jonny Blom hadn’t shown up. He hadn’t called in, either. Irene was a bit worried, since she knew that he was down for duty for three days during the long weekend. There was no one else to cover for him, since both she and Tommy would be on leave.
Irene didn’t find Kjell Sjönell at his work number, but he answered on his cell phone. He asked if he could call back later, because he was on the way to deal with a pressing matter. It wasn’t a problem for Irene: She was planning on spending the day cleaning up her paperwork.
Sjönell called around eleven. “I apologize for not being able to speak with you when you called, but I had to deal with an attempted suicide. A young man on a boat made an attempt last night. He needed to talk.” His voice sounded tired