FRIDAY, THE THIRD WEEK
CHAPTER 35
When Thomas arrived at the police station in Nacka on Friday morning, it was blissfully quiet. It seemed most of his colleagues who weren’t on vacation had opted for a late start. Even those who were normally in first thing were conspicuous by their absence.
He had caught the early morning ferry once again, and his reward was time alone in the office. Thomas appreciated the silence. It had been an intense week, and it wasn’t over yet. Being able to sit down at his desk without having to talk to anyone felt liberating. He went along to the kitchen with his mug, which was large and sturdy and bore the logo of the maritime police.
A selection of teas was arranged on a shelf. After some consideration he settled on Earl Grey. Not very original, perhaps, but a good choice first thing in the morning. Two teaspoons of sugar and a drop of milk—perfect.
He walked back down the corridor to his office. Apart from the obligatory desk, two birch wood chairs for visitors, and a neutral bookcase in the same pale wood, it was virtually empty. On the desk were piles of papers and documents. There were no photographs or potted plants to make the room homier.
He used to have a large photo of Pernilla next to the phone. He had loved that picture. It had been taken on Harö at sunset. Pernilla’s hair had been bleached by the sun, and the picture captured that special evening light that exists only in summer in the archipelago.
She had been sitting at the end of the jetty gazing out to sea, just as the sun was going down. She hadn’t noticed that he was taking the photograph, which was why it had turned out so well. A wonderful moment tenderly captured.
After the divorce he had put the picture at the bottom of a desk drawer.
He couldn’t have a photograph of Emily on display either. It was just too hard. Whenever he thought of Emily he saw her tiny hand resting in his. He had sat by her for hours before they came to take her away, just stroking those little fingers as they lay lifeless on his palm.
It had been impossible to grasp that he would never again be able to touch her soft cheek, never hold her in his arms. In the end, when the paramedics had insisted on taking her away, he had gone crazy, clinging to her as if he could make her start breathing through sheer willpower.
He had howled like a wounded animal. When they took his daughter from him, he had sobbed helplessly. Nothing had been as painful as watching the ambulance drive away with his daughter’s body—not the funeral, with the tiny white coffin in front of the altar, nor the unavoidable separation from Pernilla.
There was an envelope with his name on it sitting on his desk. He slit it open and immediately saw that it was the report from the national forensics lab in Linköping giving the results of the more extensive tests on the samples from Kicki Berggren’s body.
They had worked fast, he thought. He began to read. The report wasn’t what he had expected. And it didn’t cast any further light on what had happened on the island.
Quite the reverse, in fact.
He scratched the back of his neck and stretched. Persson would be even more annoyed. New information that didn’t help at all. It would probably be best to ask the prosecutor to attend their next meeting. She needed to hear this. She was leading the preliminary investigation, after all, which made her technically responsible for the case as a whole.
He picked up the phone to call Margit; she, too, must be informed. This was something the two of them needed to tackle.
CHAPTER 36
The meeting began at nine thirty on the dot. Persson believed in punctuality. If you couldn’t turn up on time, then it didn’t say much for your character, in his opinion.
When Thomas walked in to the conference room, both Persson and Charlotte Öhman were already there. Kalle and Erik were sitting opposite, and Carina was next to them with her pen at the ready. Thomas noticed that she was wearing a barrette, but a few strands of hair had escaped. Her pink blouse looked pretty against her tanned skin.
Carina pointed to a plate in the middle of the table. “Help yourself to a cinnamon Danish, Thomas. I passed a bakery on the way in, and I thought a treat might help.”
Thomas nodded. “Thanks. Anything that raises the blood sugar and provides energy is welcome.”
Persson cleared his throat. “Right, let’s start. Is Margit with us?” He stared at the telephone.
The answer came loud and clear. “I’m here. How are things in Stockholm? It’s seventy-seven degrees here, and the water is almost as warm.”
“We can’t complain. So, let’s find out where we’re at.” Persson leaned back in his chair. “Thomas, you first.”
Thomas quickly summarized the events of the past twenty-four hours, then picked up the report from the lab. “According to the forensic analysis, Kicki Berggren was poisoned.”
Confusion spread around the room; they were all looking at one another without really knowing how to interpret this new information.
“Probably rat poison,” Thomas went on.
“You mean the cause of death was rat poison?” Carina asked.
“The underlying cause of death,” Thomas said. “The report states that she had ingested a fatal dose of warfarin, which is a component of rat poison. Indirectly, this is what killed her, by causing internal bleeding in the brain and other organs.”
“What do you mean, indirectly?” Erik asked.
“Warfarin works as an anticoagulant, which means it prevents the blood from clotting. The blows or the fall that Kicki Berggren suffered were the direct cause of death, because her body was unable to stop the bleeding they caused.”
“But otherwise she wouldn’t have died?” Kalle looked at Thomas.
“Probably not. The violence to which she was subjected would normally have resulted in nothing more serious than some nasty bruises and a small amount of bleeding. It would have been obvious that somebody had slapped her but nothing worse than that.”
“How do you think she consumed rat poison?” Margit asked.
“We need to check on that. It certainly seems odd,” Thomas said. Who could possibly consume something like that by mistake, particularly in view of the fact that the container was usually marked with a clear warning?
Margit spoke again. “I recognize the name warfarin; isn’t it used for people, too?”
Thomas nodded and skimmed through the report in his hand. “Warfarin is also a pharmaceutical drug used on humans under a number of different brand names,” he said. “It’s commonly prescribed after a stroke, because it reduces the formation of blood clots. However, it can also cause internal bleeding if it’s administered in large doses. That’s what happened to Ariel Sharon, the former prime minister of Israel. He suffered a blood clot to begin with, and when he was treated with blood-thinning drugs, it resulted in a major brain hemorrhage.”
“I heard about that on TV,” Carina said.
Thomas went through the report and tried to summarize the contents. “Forensics routinely checks for warfarin. Therefore it wasn’t particularly difficult for them to find traces of an extremely high dose and to make the connection with rat poison. This dose would also explain the other bleeding discovered during the autopsy.”