covered the other side. Irene stepped up to the window and looked out. The kitchen faced a thickly foliaged courtyard filled with plants and even a lilac bower.
They peered into the little bathroom, which contained a large bathtub on lion’s-paw feet. The floor and walls were completely covered in dark blue tile. Here and there were interspersed tiles with a half or full moon or a star. The ceiling was also painted dark blue and Marcus had stencilled different constellations on it. Irene recognized some of them, but only knew one of the names, the Big Dipper. She imagined lying in the tub with some candles along the edge and looking up at the starry sky. ...
None of them heard the door open. A sharp voice called out behind them. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”
The three officers turned to look at the owner of the voice. She stood in the middle of the hall, the light from a lamp reflecting from her white hair. The skinny little lady did not inspire fear but the angry expression on her face testified to her feistiness.
“We’re police officers,” said Jonny. They showed their badges to her.
Most of the anger melted from her face. “Is that so? But what are you doing in Marcus’s apartment?” she asked sternly.
Irene chose her words carefully. “We suspect that Marcus is missing. Who are you?”
“Is little Marcus missing? I’ve begun to fear that myself these last few weeks. It’s been two months since I’ve heard from him.”
“Are you looking after his apartment?”
“Yes. I live in the apartment next door; my name is Gretta Svensson.”
“We are Crime Inspectors Irene Huss, Jonny Blom, and Hannu Rauhala.”
The hostility had vanished from the old lady’s face and been replaced with a look of deep concern. “What has happened to little Marcus?” she said.
“We aren’t sure yet but his friends in Copenhagen also said that Marcus hadn’t been in touch for two months. When did he say he’d be back?”
“No exact time. It depended on how things went in Copenhagen. If things were going well he was going to stay, and if they didn’t work out, he would come straight home. What I understood from his call was that things were going very well for him there. I assumed he had gotten a lot of work since he’s so talented.”
“Has he sent you any letters?”
“No, Marcus always calls. He’s so sweet and thoughtful. Could anything have happened to him?”
“We know nothing for certain. But the possibility is always there when someone disappears.”
It was just as well not to give Gretta Svensson false hope. She would find out from the mass media in five days.
“Mrs. Svensson—” Irene started but was interrupted at once.
“Ms.”
“Ms. Svensson. Will you be home during the next few hours?”
“Yes.”
“May we come in and speak with you when we are done looking through this apartment?”
“Of course.”
“Good. We’ll stop by in a bit.”
Gently but firmly, Irene showed Ms. Svensson out of Marcus’s apartment and closed the door.
Jonny and Hannu had already gone into Marcus’s bedroom. Lots of splendid houseplants stood in the window. The walls were painted a shade of terra-cotta. Near the ceiling there was a wide patterned border in black, white, and different shades of brown. The flooring was dark brown varnished wood. There was only one piece of furniture in the room, a circular bed that had to be at least ten feet in diameter. The bedspread was black silk, and Irene was willing to bet that the sheets were of the same color and quality. Imaginative African masks decorated the walls, and spears and shields were hung, artistically arranged, between the masks.
“Hello, Africa,” Jonny said in a deep bass tone.
He was right. The grotesque masks and shields felt threatening to Irene. She had the irrational feeling of being watched.
The living room provided a striking contrast. The walls were white and the flooring was the same type of light wood as in the kitchen. The sun flooded in. It was probably Ms. Svensson who had lowered the wooden blinds to protect the plants.
“This man has done away with curtains. I think it’s really nice,” said Irene.
A short windowless wall was completely covered by an overflowing bookcase. Two big white leather sofas stood in the middle of the room, facing each other. A black-and-white cowhide lay on the floor beneath them. The coffee table was constructed of two freestanding triangular pieces of marble, one white and the other black. They could also be put together to make