before you go to bed, especially if you have problems that can affect your night’s sleep. Irene lay awake and tried to digest her agonizing thoughts and that anchovies-in-cream-sauce dish until the early hours of the morning. When dawn broke, she fell into an uneasy slumber.
The alarm clock buzzed at six thirty on the dot. Irene felt as if she had spent the night in a clothes dryer. Her body was stiff, and she was reluctant to get up. There was only one sensible thing to do. She went down to the laundry room and put on her newly washed jogging suit, tying her jogging shoes on the way out.
An early-morning chill was still in the air, and the sky was covered by thin gray veil-like clouds, but they looked as though they would blow away during the day. She started at a pretty high speed in order to get her pulse rate up. As usual, she took the turn down toward Fiskebäck’s small boat harbor and up along the back roads toward Långedrag. A short run of five kilometers would have to be enough. It was best not to be too late for the morning prayers since she was already in disfavor with the superintendent.
THE OTHER were already seated when Irene steamed in. She mumbled something apologetically about the car not wanting to start. Since everyone knew Irene’s almost-thirteen-year-old Saab, they didn’t question her excuse.
“Now that everyone is here, we can start. Jonny is on vacation but he was briefed before he left. So it’s just Tommy and Fredrik who haven’t heard the big news.”
Andersson paused for the sake of effect.
“Birgitta and Hannu are getting married tomorrow.”
Fredrik and Tommy’s faces clearly showed that it was news to them. Before they could gather their thoughts the superintendent continued, “The Copenhageners have been in touch. A young Swedish prostitute has been found murdered, and apparently the murder bears the signature of the murder-mutilator, though she wasn’t completely dismembered. In any case, Irene and Jonny are driving down to Copenhagen on Monday to get more information. Today, Hannu and Irene will continue to inquire into the names that have arisen during the investigation concerning Marcus Tosscander. We’ll release his identity after the weekend.”
Hannu asked permission to speak. “I’ve found Hans Pahliss and Anders Gunnarsson. They live in Alingsås.”
“Try and get ahold of them. Fredrik and Birgitta, how is it going with the investigation into Robert Larsson?”
Fredrik still hadn’t really recovered from the big news, but Birgitta gave an account of the results to date.
“He isn’t trying to hide the money. Instead, he’s trying to show it. That is to say, to launder the dirty money. We’ve had Wonder Bar under surveillance for three days. The number of customers has been noted and we have looked into what it costs to get into the club. If the entrance fees declared by Robert Larsson on his tax forms are correct, then an average of two hundred people visit the club every day. It can’t possibly be that many. We make it an average of sixty-three. But we are going to keep an eye out for a few more days before we bring him in again.”
“Speak with the prosecutor first,” Andersson advised.
“We will.”
“How is it going with Jack the Ripper?” Andersson asked and turned toward Tommy.
“Still no new information. Today I’m going to question his latest victim again. She was too upset when I spoke with her the first time. It doesn’t feel right that we aren’t getting any tips. There were long articles in both GP and the Götesborgs Tidningen the day before yesterday, but no one has called in. And soon it will be the weekend again.”
“He only strikes on the weekends and downtown. Mostly around Vasagatan and its side streets,” Andersson concluded.
“Does that provide any clues?” Irene asked.
Tommy nodded and shrugged his shoulders at the same time. This could be read as both a yes and a maybe.
Hannu and Irene went into Irene’s office to continue planning.
“What do you think about my driving out to Pappa Tosscander’s this morning while you contact Pahliss and Gunnarsson?” said Irene.
“Sounds good. Then we can speak with them this afternoon.”
Irene called Emanuel Tosscander. He was still listed as “senior physician” in the phone book. According to Jonny he had been retired for a few years.
“Tosscander,” a deep man’s voice answered.
If Irene hadn’t known about his previous profession, she would have guessed him to have been a high-ranking military officer.
“Good morning. My name is Irene Huss. I’m