Pontus had longer hair, pulled together in a neat ponytail at the back of his neck.
Pontus stood talking with two uniformed police officers. They were laughing and seemed to know each other, which wasn’t all that surprising since Pontus worked in an emergency room. Irene cleared her throat lightly before saying, “Pontus Zander?”
He stopped in the middle of his conversation and smiled at Irene. “Yes, and you must be Irene Hysén?”
“Huss.”
They approached each other. His handshake was warm and firm. The two patrolmen said good-bye and went out through the main entrance door.
Irene made a stop at the coffee machine when they got to the fourth floor. With a steaming mug in each hand, she led Pontus into her office. She placed one mug on the desk next to her chair and the other in front of the visitor’s chair.
“Please sit down,” she said and gestured toward the chair.
Pontus Zander sat. The sun shone on his blond hair and a ray was reflected in his steely blue eyes, which were framed by thick dark eyelashes.
“I don’t know if my colleague had time to tell you what we wanted to ask you about,” Irene started.
She intentionally allowed her question to hang in the air. Pontus answered immediately, “No, I was very stressed when he called. We got a guy with hemorrhaging varicosities in his throat at the same time as five people injured in a minivan accident. Plus the usual bunch of emergencies that had been sitting and waiting for several hours. It was tough last night. God!”
He rolled his eyes and sighed. Irene was not absolutely certain as to what bleeding varicose-something was but she decided not to pursue the matter.
“As you know, we’re investigating the murder of Marcus Tosscander. Did you know him?” she asked instead.
“Not very well. We met at a party that Anders and Hans had. And at their wedding, of course. But otherwise I actually haven’t spent any time with Marcus.”
“You two never dated?”
Pontus looked genuinely surprised. “No, as I said, we didn’t know . . .” “Marcus wasn’t always diligent about getting to know his partners . . . beforehand. Are you absolutely sure that you were never together?”
Now Pontus had a mischievous look on his face. He smiled when he answered, “To be honest, I actually tried flirting with him at the wedding but he wasn’t interested. He only had eyes for a big dark-skinned American named Leon. A real motorcycle-and-leather queen.”
“Does Leon live in Göteborg?”
“No, Los Angeles. He’s a doctor. A virologist, just like Hans. That’s how they met and became good friends. Leon’s research concerns various HIV viruses, and Hans works with the herpes virus.”
“Do you know if Hans and Leon have been more than friends?”
“I actually don’t think they’ve ever been together. They aren’t each other’s type.”
“But Marcus and Leon were?”
Pontus pursed his lips and thought before he replied. “Leon was Marcus’s type. That much I can say.”
“But you weren’t.”
“No.” Pontus sighed lightly.
It was about time to discuss Copenhagen. In a neutral tone of voice, Irene said, “Exactly when did you live in Copenhagen?”
He looked surprised. “How do you . . . Almost three years ago.” “When exactly?”
“In October ’96.”
“What did you do there?”
“We have an exchange program within the union. You trade jobs and living quarters with a colleague in another Nordic country. Loads of fun!”
“How long were you in Copenhagen?”
“One month. But what does this have to do with Marcus—”
“How did you end up at Emil Bentsen’s?”
Now Pontus looked confused. “What does that matter? Isn’t it Marc—”
“I’ll get back to that. Could you please answer my question?”
“OK. The colleague who I was going to trade with was named Lise. Lise called two weeks before I was going to leave for Copenhagen and she was completely distraught! There had been a fire in her building and it wasn’t possible to stay in her apartment because of smoke and water damage. But she promised to arrange a place where I could live and she did. I know that she put an ad in the paper and got some replies. She decided on Emil Bentsen’s apartment and that’s where I stayed the whole time.”
“I understood from Hans Pahliss that you recommended that others rent from Emil when they needed a place to stay in Copenhagen.”
“Yes. The location and the rent are excellent.”
“What did you think of Emil?”
“He’s a little . . . strange. I didn’t see much of him. I was out on the town when I wasn’t working. But he was