would happen if you told us here in Göteborg? Do you think one of your colleagues here—”
He was interrupted by a noise at the door. Jonny opened it and entered. He looked sober and smelled of soap but he couldn’t do much about his bloodshot eyes.
“Hi. I’ve sorted through the photocopies I brought from Copenhagen from the investigation of Isabell Lind’s murder. Jens Metz will send the final autopsy report when it’s done.”
Without difficulty he went up to Andersson’s desk and put the pile of paper onto the stained desktop.
Andersson looked at Jonny bitterly. Then he sighed loudly and turned to Irene. “OK. I can understand your misgivings.”
GETTING HOMEwas wonderful. Krister had made the rounds of the market and stocked up. He was off work the next day and wouldn’t return until Saturday afternoon. When Irene stepped over the threshold he was busy seasoning pork chops with garlic and spices. Jenny was standing next to him, looking dissatisfied. She didn’t comment on her father’s choice of food. Instead, she continued to fill her greased pan with sliced tomatoes and squash. Katarina was chopping iceberg lettuce, which she put in a bowl together with corn and cucumbers.
Sammie, as usual, was the first to greet Irene and did so with unreserved joy. But her husband and children weren’t far behind.
Katarina was depressed. The doctor had told her that she couldn’t train for at least two months. No damage to her skeleton was visible on the X-rays but pain and limited mobility in her neck and back were still troublesome.
“There’s a risk of chronic pain if I’m not careful,” she said.
“What treatment did he recommend?” Irene asked, concerned.
“Acupuncture and physical therapy, which I’m already doing.”
“She was referred to an orthopedist who specializes in whiplash injuries,” Krister said.
“What if I can never compete again! As it is now, I don’t even have the energy to train,” said Katarina. She was on the verge of tears.
“You can devote yourself to walking the dog. Dogs are wonderful exercisers. And it looks like we’ll soon have Sammie’s son in the house,” said Krister.
“What? No! I don’t have the energy for two dogs,” Irene groaned.
“You don’t have the energy?! You’re never at home,” said Jenny.
This stung. Weakly Irene said, “Never home . . . it’s not that often that I have to go to Copenhagen or anywhere else. It’s just with this case—”
Jenny interrupted her, “You’re never home anyway. It’s always work, work, work. But the rest of us really want to have a little puppy. He’s so adorable!”
“I haven’t said that I would really like to have a puppy,” Krister protested.
Both of his daughters looked at him meaningfully. Jenny said pointedly, “And who was it who was completely beside himself yesterday when we went to look at him? ‘Oh, so cute and cuddly’!”
“You went to look at the puppy yesterday?” asked Irene.
“The lady called. She wants to get rid of him by the end of next week or the beginning of the week after. Then he’ll be eight weeks old. None of us have found someone who is interested . . . so the girls and I went to look at him,” Krister said apologetically.
“And of course he was adorable,” Irene sighed.
“Adorable!” her family said in unison.
“SOMETIMES YOU fall into your own trap,” said Tommy Persson.
He didn’t try to hide his joy. They were sitting in the office they shared, taking an extra cup of coffee to get the Friday morning started. Irene had just given him the short version of what had happened in Copenhagen. And summed up with the fact that the Huss family would probably have to take one of the puppies.
“Everything at our house revolves around the puppy who’s coming. Sara has bought food dishes and chewing toys and God knows what all,” Tommy said, defeated.
“I hadn’t thought about starting over with a puppy again. Vet visits, raising them, and training. Yuck! It’s like having kids again.” In order to change the subject, Irene asked, “How is it going with Jack the Ripper?”
“OK. I have a theory that I’m working on. Two of his victims talked about a certain smell he had. Now the last girl has come up with what it was.”
Tommy stopped and paused dramatically before he slowly said, “Food.”
“Food?”
“Yes. Kitchen odor. The smell seems to come from his clothes or maybe his hair. My theory is that Jack works in the kitchen of a restaurant. The pubs usually stop serving food around twelve. It takes at least one and a