He paused for effect. Irene discovered that she had scooted forward in her seat and was leaning over the desk, as if she were hard of hearing.
“The videocassette that Hannu brought us yesterday. We could eliminate Jonny’s and Hannu’s fingerprints right away. We found Marcus’s and Emil’s prints on the cover. But there were only two prints on the video itself, Emil’s and that of an unknown. We’ve secured the unknown thumbprint. And it matches perfectly with the thumb on the stamp!”
Irene stared at Svante and exclaimed, “I’ll be damned! He’s been smart, and had incredible luck, but he hasn’t realized how dangerous a series of small mistakes are, when put together!”
“He has become too arrogant and self-confident. A bit sloppy. If you catch him, we’ll definitely be able to nail him. Even if he denies it.” Svante sounded very pleased.
“You haven’t gotten anything in on Erik Bolin yet?”
“No. Several samples will come from the autopsy today. Stridner’s assistant called. That young girl, what’s her name? Britt! Britt Nilsson called from Pathology and said that they had found a skin scraping under Bolin’s nails. Apparently the body also has injuries that are indicative of a serious struggle.”
Something clicked, but when Irene couldn’t grasp it, she tossed it off as her imagination, and asked instead, “So Erik Bolin fought with his killer?”
“The evidence points to it. But you’ll get a preliminary report today.”
“Probably.”
“The bloodstains on the police uniform in Copenhagen are from Marcus Tosscander but those on the baton turned out to be significantly older. They came from a prostitute who was killed two years ago.”
“Carmen Østergaard! You mean that her blood was still on the baton after two years?”
“Apparently. There were traces of blood in the hole for the leather strap and on the leather itself. Most of the blood had been wiped or rinsed off, but there was still enough for a positive test. According to our colleagues in Copenhagen, it can’t have been used after the murder.”
“Wasn’t there a baton with the other uniform?”
“No.”
“And no signs of bloodstains on that uniform?”
“No.”
“Were the bloodstains on the real uniform or on the one Emil bought in the gay shop?”
“On the one he bought in the shop.”
So Emil hadn’t dared to use his mother’s uniform during the dismemberment itself, maybe out of fear that she might sometime ask to have it back. A thought struck Irene.
“Wasn’t there any of Carmen’s blood on the uniform?”
“No. Though it had never been washed.”
Irene thought. “On the video, Emil was wearing a uniform when he dismembered Carmen. That must mean that he had still another uniform at that time,” she said.
“Very possible.”
Svante was already on his way into the corridor when Irene heard his farewell. “Good-bye. We’ll be in touch when we know more about Bolin.”
Irene brooded for a long time about the mystery of the absence of Carmen’s blood from the uniform worn during her dismemberment. That must mean Emil had had a third uniform. Where was it now? Maybe he had burned it afterward if it was very bloody? And bought a new one for the dismembering of Marcus?
Irene trembled. That meant that Marcus’s murder had been planned long in advance. Which must mean that Carmen’s murder had also been planned. Were the strange assaults on the two prostitutes in Copenhagen shortly before Carmen was murdered the first clumsy attempts at trying to secure a mutilation victim? Third time was the charm, in that case.
The description the police had of “the policeman” matched Emil, and the description of “the doctor” matched Basta. And what was it that had clicked when Svante Malm started talking about Stridner? Something that Stridner had said? Something that her assistant had said? Irene had only met Britt Nilsson a few times and that had been a while ago. No, it was useless. To her irritation, she was forced to give up. But something had definitely registered.
She went through every name on the lists from Marcus’s computer. Even names that only popped up in connection with job requests were noted. All of them would be checked. It would be a huge job but Irene felt convinced that Basta was hiding behind one of those names. He could be a link between the victims and the murderer. But another certainty had grown ever stronger inside her: he was the murderer they were looking for.
“ITHINK we have him!”
Tommy stormed into the office they shared. He seemed elated. Normally, Tommy was calmness personified.
“I’ve come directly from the prosecutor. We’re going to get him immediately. He’s at work right now.”
“Who?” Irene asked, confused.
Tommy stared at her. Then he exploded, “Jack the Ripper, of course!”
“The New York Ripper and Jack the Ripper. . It’s a bit much now,” Irene said, trying to make a joke of her blunder.
Tommy gave her a sharp look before he continued. “I went through the employee lists of all the bars in Vasastan and its surroundings. I checked all males between the ages of twenty and forty. What a job! But it paid off. Yesterday I found Rickard ‘Zorro’ Karlsson. Thirty-two years old and works as a dishwasher at a pizzeria on Molinsgatan.”
Irene formed a silent whistle with her mouth. A dishwasher at a pizzeria, just a stone’s throw away from the pub where her husband worked as master chef.
“He got the nickname Zorro from his fellow inmates in prison. He raped a waitress who was working at the same bar that he was. After the rape, he carved two deep Z marks on her thighs with a meat knife. Afterward he couldn’t explain why. He was convicted of aggravated sexual assault and he got seven years.”
“Dare I guess that this was max four years ago?” Irene said ironically.
“Almost right. Four and a half. The crime happened in Gävle. After his time in prison he moved to Göteborg. His brother works as a cook at another restaurant here in the city but Rickard didn’t get a job there as a dishwasher. He works at the pizzeria instead.”
“When did he start?”
“In February.”
“And at the end of March, Jack the Ripper started to wreak havoc,” Irene determined.
“Yup. And now I’ve checked his time sheets against the times of the rapes. All of them have occurred when Zorro was working a late-night shift!”
“And the prosecutor has given the OK to pull him in right away?”
“Yup. Fredrik is tagging along. See you!”
His good-bye echoed from the corridor. Strange how everyone seemed to be in a hurry to leave her office today.
Personally, she was stuck with all of the names on Marcus’s computer lists. Her intuition hadn’t given her the verdict when she went through them but she felt certain the murderer’s name was there.
Two names connected with Marcus weren’t on the lists: Pontus Zander and Tom Tanaka. Irene knew of them so she noticed they were missing. That meant there were probably other people close to Marcus who were not listed in the computer. The absence of Pontus’s name wasn’t as remarkable as the fact that Tom’s name was missing. According to Pontus, he and Marcus had never been well acquainted. But Tom and Marcus had been.
Irene sighed. It felt hopeless but she had to start the phone calls. Just as she reached out for the phone it rang. She grabbed the receiver.
At first it was quiet on the line but she could hear quick, nervous breathing.
“This is Angelica Hendersen,” said a thin female voice.
The name didn’t mean anything to Irene. Cautious, but in a friendly tone of voice, she said, “OK. And what can I help you with?”