damn motorcycle war and then Jonny goes to the hospital and Tommy is skiing and Irene is going to go to London! The London trip has to be cancelled! Someone actually has to work!” Superintendent Andersson looked like he might have a stroke at any moment. He walked around the room, upset, and waved his index finger in the air in order to underline the seriousness of his words.
“Other units are already involved,” Hannu reminded him.
The superintendent ended his fit of rage after a few seconds and glared angrily at the Finn, who calmly met his blood-shot eyes. As always, Hannu was right. What had happened during the weekend would have been too big for their unit to handle, even if they had been fully staffed. But Andersson felt frustrated. First a triple homicide, and now the motorcycle murders, all within a few weeks.
“It’s important that Irene manage to interview Rebecka Schyttelius. Otherwise we’ll never make progress in that investigation,” Hannu continued, unaffected by the glare.
“You think so?” Andersson said, derisively.
“Absolutely.”
Sarcasm didn’t affect Hannu. The superintendent looked grim but thoughtful. His gaze wandered between Irene and Hannu. Finally, he shrugged and muttered something unintelligible like “. . . if you wonder who’s boss . . . ,” but he didn’t say anything else out loud.
Irene breathed a sigh of relief and blessed Hannu in her thoughts. She, too, was convinced of the importance of meeting Rebecka again. If her new ideas turned out to be true, the investigation could take a dramatic turn. Then it would be even more important to get Rebecka’s version of what had happened.
There was a knock at the door as it was opening. Lanky Svante Malm entered the room.
“Good morning. Was passing by and thought I’d provide some interesting facts about the fire and—” he started, before he was interrupted by Andersson.
“But it can’t be finished yet!”
“Why not?” the technician asked, running his fingers through his tousled hair as he always did when he felt confused or unsure.
“Åhlén said that it would take several days! Those bastards blew the whole house to bits! As well as some of the lowlifes who got a taste of their own medicine.”
The superintendent had an unmistakable tone of satisfaction in his voice as he uttered the last sentence.
To everyone’s surprise, Svante started laughing. “I’m not talking about the grenade attacks. I meant the fire at Norssjön,” he said.
“Oh.” The superintendent sounded uninterested. Svante didn’t let himself be belittled, instead pulling out one of his obligatory plastic bags from the pocket of his lab coat.
“We thought these small black clumps came from the videocassettes, but now we’ve analyzed them more carefully. They are six plastic buttons. And we’ve also found the remains of elastic bands.”
To the rest of the group, the contents of the new plastic bag looked similar to all of the other bags of ashes he had shown them. The technician looked around triumphantly as if he had produced diamonds from the ashes. Since no one showed the slightest sign of understanding the importance of this discovery, he felt compelled to explain. “So we think the murderer also burned a rainsuit made of nylon.”
It took a few seconds before the import of Svante’s words sank in. Hannu was the one who understood the significance first.
“He was wearing it when he shot them, as protection against blood and gunpowder residue. Then he burned it.”
“You have to admire his foresight,” Irene exclaimed. “He brought with him a full-length nylon rainsuit which doesn’t take up any room at all when it’s folded up. It just needed to be pulled on over his own clothes, and it’s easy to burn afterward. Not to mention the charcoal and the lighter fluid. Did he bring them with him too?”
“Right,” Malm said. “I almost forgot about the charcoal. It probably came from Jacob Schyttelius’s cottage. We found an outdoor barbecue and half a bag of charcoal under the glassed-in veranda. There was also an almost-empty bottle of lighter fluid. There aren’t any fingerprints on the bottle; it was wiped thoroughly.”
Svante’s meaning was clear to all of them. Fredrik was the one who formulated it into one logical conclusion.
“He put the bottle back again, but he took the charcoal with him in a bag which he could burn. What a smart devil.”
“Yes, he has been very cunning. But like all criminals, he’s left evidence.”
Svante’s voice held more optimism than the detectives felt.
IRENE WENT to Hannu’s office after morning prayers. He was on his way out, but