Now Irene was able to realize that the creek had risen only on the upstream side. Farther down, the stream was flowing normally on its way to Mölndal River.
The boy with the stick was groaning from his effort. “There’s something … here.… I feel it.… Damn! It’s stuck! Now it’s coming loo—”
The boy almost lost his grip on the bridge fence when the branch came unstuck with a jerk. It took Irene’s brain a few seconds to register what her eyes saw. A soaking-wet pink beanie was dangling on the end of the stick.
THE FIRE STATION’S divers helped recover the body. Irene had immediately called Superintendent Andersson and Tommy Persson, who were now at the scene. The three police officers stared unhappily at the mangled corpse of Gunnela Hägg. Life had certainly been hard on Mama Bird, but her death had not been more merciful. Small animals had gnawed off her nose and lips. While waiting for the forensic doctor, they decided to place a gray tarp over her. The body was so emaciated that there were hardly any contours under the stiff plastic. They turned and walked heavily over to the other discovery the divers had made.
Linda Svensson’s bicycle lay on the bank. It had been wedged sideways in the culvert and had anchored Gunnela Hägg’s body in the rapid runoff of the melting snow. Superintendent Andersson inspected the bicycle morosely, mumbling so quietly that only his people could hear him, “I see. That’s what a city bike looks like.”
He straightened himself and turned toward the fire station’s chief. “I’d like your divers to comb the area around the bridge and a bit farther downstream. Maybe the murderer threw in something else.”
The familiar white Ford Escort zoomed toward the bridge, Yvonne Stridner’s frizzy red hair visible behind the windshield. Irene was extremely relieved to see her, although her boss was not. Irene wanted someone as competent at Stridner at the murder scene.
“The bike is here, but where’s Linda?” the superintendent asked himself.
“Linda? Is that the name of the victim?” asked Stridner. She’d parked and walked up to the group, giving the gray tarp an appraising look.
“No, Linda is the missing nurse. Her bicycle is over there. The victim is Gunnela Hägg, a homeless woman,” Andersson said.
“I see. Well, tonight she’ll be inside for a change. I won’t be able to do the autopsy this afternoon, so it will have to wait until first thing tomorrow morning.”
Irene thought, Too bad some people have to die in order to be indoors. She was startled back to attention by Yvonne’s brisk, “Turn her over!”
The command was directed at two of the firemen, who complied immediately. One of them rushed off to vomit into the stream immediately afterward. Stridner didn’t say anything, but her expression said, wimp, loud and clear. She pulled on her rubber gloves and protective smock and began to examine the body on the ground.
The police officers watched her in silence. All three felt oppressed by the shabbiness of life and death.
Ice-cold certainty began to seep into Irene’s consciousness. Her lips were reluctant to form the words coming from her brain. “She’s here.”
Andersson was jolted from his thoughts. “Who? Gunnela Hägg?”
“No, Linda.”
Tommy and Andersson looked at her and started to nod at the same time.
“She biked away around midnight. Her bike is here. Ergo, so is she,” Tommy agreed.
They began to search. There were overgrown bushes all along the banks of the stream, as well as a number of fir trees whose long branches swept the ground. Linda could be under any of these. She certainly wasn’t in the grove by the parking lot.
“We’ll have to bring in a dog,” said Superintendent Andersson.
Irene pulled out her cell phone and arranged for a canine patrol.
The sun had already gone down behind the buildings. The shadows under the trees began to deepen. None of the police officers wanted to talk. They stood lost in their own thoughts as they waited for the pathologist’s preliminary results.
Finally Yvonne Stridner got to her feet. She waved majestically at the body, which the men from Funeral Services understood they could now take to the pathology lab. She ripped off her protective covering and stuffed it into a plastic bag. Irene realized then that Stridner was wearing rubber boots. They were uncharacteristically plain for the pathologist.
“Large, deep wounds on the back of the head. One or more powerful blows to the base of the skull. Again, we’re dealing with a strong killer. I estimate she’s been dead for a number of days. It’s been cold until Thursday evening, which hinders decay. I will have to examine her more closely tomorrow.”
“She must have been left on top of the ice, because the stream was frozen until last Thursday,” Tommy pointed out.
Stridner nodded. “I’ll have to keep those factors in mind when I perform the autopsy. She hasn’t been in the water all that long. I’ll get in touch tomorrow afternoon.”
Mud squishing under her boots, the pathology professor turned to go to her car.
Andersson glared after her. “Why is she always in such a hurry to get back to work? It’s not like her patients pick up and go home when they’re tired of waiting.”
Gunnela Hägg’s body was carried away inside the discreet gray station wagon. The technicians had arrived and were wrapping the bicycle in the same gray tarp that had earlier covered the body. One of the divers shouted and triumphantly waved a muddy tool. Irene came closer and saw that it was a large pair of pliers. She did not doubt for a minute that they were the wire cutters. One of the technicians wrapped them in a large plastic bag.
Andersson looked extremely tired.
“I don’t know about you, but I need coffee, preferably intravenously,” Irene said.
The superintendent gave her a grateful look. It was starting to get dark in the ravine. The Canine Unit arrived, and two eager German shepherds were let out of the backseat of a Volvo. The superintendent was happy to see they were on a leash. He was not particularly fond of dogs—nor any other animal for that matter. He nodded and said, “Since Irene wants coffee, let’s go back to the station and get some.”
THE ENTIRE TEAM had assembled in the conference room. The superintendent briefed the rest on what had happened near the hospital that afternoon.
“Even though Gunnela Hägg was totally bonkers and completely harmless, she was a danger to the murderer. He must have understood that she had seen something the night of the murder when he read Kurt Höök’s article,” Tommy said.
Irene nodded. “So he knew who Mama Bird was, and he knew how to get her.” She thought a moment. “When I asked around at the hospital, I had the feeling that very few people knew she’d stayed in the garden shed. Gunnela came late in the evening and left early in the morning.”
“The murderer must have been waiting for her there,” Tommy said.
“Nurse Ellen saw her once right after six A.M.,” Irene said. “A hasty glimpse at the parking lot. They call the area Burnsite, by the way.”
“Why is that?” asked Birgitta.
“There used to be an old mansion there, but it burned down eleven years ago. According to Sister Ellen, Sverker Löwander’s ex-wife, Barbro, accused his present wife, Carina, of arson.”
“Why would she want to burn the place down?”
“Because she didn’t want to live there.”
“Seems improbable.…”
“Stop all that side chat,” growled Andersson. “We have to focus on last week at Löwander Hospital.” The superintendent took a deep breath. “How do we explain Linda’s bike? The canine patrol has found nothing. They’ll try again tomorrow when it’s light.”
Hannu indicated he wanted to say something. “The bicycle was ahead of the body.”