“All right,” a woman’s voice answered.
He turned back to Irene. “Why do you need information about Marianne? And what kind of information do you want?”
“I need to know as much as possible. To start, what do you think of her as a person?”
The department head glanced sharply at Irene before putting a quick smile on his face. This one was not dazzling, but downright nasty. “Harmless and kind.” It was obvious from his tone that he did not like her.
“Were you displeased with her work as a nurse?”
“No, she was competent and careful.”
“She never made any serious mistakes? No mistreatments?”
Niklas Alexandersson looked surprised. “No. What do you mean?”
“Well, her colleagues at Löwander Hospital said she’d quit her job here suddenly two years ago. Do you know why?”
“I can’t see why that would involve the police.”
Irene captured his godlike amber gaze. Without breaking eye contact, she said slowly, “Marianne Svärd was murdered last night.”
Color drained from his face, and his tan faded to a sickly gray. He looked about to faint until he reached for a chair and sank into it.
Irene continued mercilessly. “This is why the police are involved. I will now repeat my question: Why did Marianne Svärd quit her job here?”
Niklas put his elbows on the table and let his face fall into his hands. A few moments later, he rubbed his eyes and miserably replied, “She said she wanted to try something new.”
“That’s not what her colleagues at Löwander told us.”
He stiffened but did not say a word.
Irene continued. “They said there was a man here she wanted to avoid.”
He still did not flinch or answer.
Irene decided to take a chance. “If you are not prepared to respond, I believe I will have to speak with Dr. Alm.”
He gestured tiredly. “No need. Everybody here already knows that I was the person she couldn’t stand.”
Irene was surprised. He didn’t seem to be her type. “Why did she dislike you?”
A weak reflection of his mean smile returned. “I took her guy, Andreas, away from her.”
“You mean … you and Andreas were …?”
“That’s right. He left her for me. Are you shocked?” As he said this, he lifted a disdainful eyebrow and looked right into her eyes. His color was starting to return.
“No, I’m not. Are you two still together?”
“Yes. We live together.”
“How did Marianne react to your relationship?”
Niklas Alexandersson snorted. “She wouldn’t let go of him. She was more dependent than I realized. It was hard on Andreas. And on me.”
“How was it hard for Andreas?”
“She didn’t give up. He didn’t want to make her unhappy. And his family wouldn’t accept our relationship either. She made them believe that this was just a temporary phase and Andreas would soon come back to her. She’d say, ‘I’ll forgive him for everything.’ ” As he imitated Marianne, his voice rose to a falsetto that sounded very much like a deep female voice, his hand fluttering. When he switched off the imitation, all the fake femininity vanished from his body language.
The intercom beeped. “Niklas?”
“Yes?”
“X-ray called regarding the CVC. It’s the pneumothorax. He’s taken a bad turn, and his blood gases are much worse.”
“Not good. Have you contacted Alm?”
“No, he’s still in surgery.”
“All right. Call him and get him over here as soon as he’s finished.”
“Right.”
Niklas stood up and tried to look regretful. “As you’ve heard, I have to go.”
Irene felt as if she were caught in an episode of General Hospital without understanding a word. She found it tiresome. Was it truly necessary for Niklas to leave, or was it just an excuse?
“Really serious?”
Niklas stopped. “A punctured lung is life-threatening for such a sick patient. Please excuse me.…”
Irene was not about to let him go that easily. “When do you get home?”
It looked for a second as if he was debating whether to tell the truth. Finally he shrugged and said, “Right before six.”
“Is Andreas also home then?”
“Yes, he’s returning from a seminar this afternoon.”
Irene thought quickly. “Here’s what we’ll do. Have your dinner in peace and quiet, and I will come by at seven-thirty.”
“Is this really necessary?”
“Yes, it is. We are looking for a murderer.”
He flinched at that last word but said nothing. He sized Irene up as he held the door open for her, a gentlemanly gesture you don’t often see anymore, she thought.
BACK DOWN IN the grand entrance, people were having coffee at the tiny café tables. Irene found an empty table and sat down. A cup of coffee and a sandwich would be perfect right now. She hung her jacket on the back of one of the chairs and walked to the counter to place her order. She glanced at the convenience store and the newspaper headlines on display.
At first she thought it was a joke, but as she reread the banner, she realized that the Göteborg Times headline really did read, WITNESS SAYS: GHOST KILLED NIGHT-SHIFT NURSE.
Chapter 7
CHIEF INSPECTOR ANDERSSON hated going to Pathology. Even more, he hated talking to pathology professor Yvonne Stridner. Most of all, he abhorred entering the autopsy room, but this was the only way to get a quick response.
When Andersson asked for the professor, the security guard pointed up the stairs with a burly, body-built arm. The chief inspector was relieved that Stridner was in her office and not in the middle of an autopsy. He tapped on her closed door.
Beeeep! A red light next to the text occupied lit up. A yellow light, indicating please wait, was beside it, as well as a green one stating come in. Even though he’d spent time driving here, Andersson was glad to accept the red light and the yellow. He sat down on the uncomfortable wooden chair against the wall. He could clearly hear the professor’s voice: “… the worst oral examination I’ve ever heard! You must study and be thoroughly prepared, even for an oral examination. It’s incredible stupidity to believe you’d pass just because you gabbled on and on. You have to know what you’re talking about. Obviously you haven’t studied. Or else you haven’t understood what you were studying. The latter would be even worse. The former is fixable: Go home and study properly and I will give you another examination in three weeks with every question you failed. And that exam will be written.”
The door was thrown open, and a girl with short black hair rushed out, crying. The chief inspector stayed frozen to his chair. His emotions contained an element of terror as he heard Stridner’s voice.
“So there you are, Andersson, taking up space.”
Andersson looked like a student who’d just been caught sneaking around to steal the answers to an upcoming test.
“Uhhh.…” he said lamely.
“What do you want?”
“Marianne Svärd … have you finished the autopsy?”
“Of course. Come inside,” she ordered.
Stridner turned around, and he followed her into the office. She sat down in the comfortable chair before her computer. A visitor’s chair with a worn-out red Naugahyde seat stood on the other side of her desk. It was hard and lumpy, surely on purpose. You were not supposed to feel comfortable in the presence of the professor.