“Yes, I think so. Of course, now and then she would get tired of him, and she’d wonder whether she was really in love. I guess most people feel that way after they’ve lived together for a long time. But I think she had made up her mind that he was the one. I know that several times she said that if she ever had children, it would be with Per. He made her feel secure.”
“Could we ask you a few questions in front of the camera? We’ll only use the parts that you think are okay.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
“How about if we give it a try? If you think it’s too uncomfortable, then we can stop.”
“All right.”
Peter brought in his camera. He didn’t bother with a tripod or extra lighting. The situation was touchy enough as it was. Johan moved over to sit on the sofa next to Emma. He could smell the scent of her newly washed hair.
The interview went well. Emma talked about Helena and their friendship, about her own fear and about how her life had been shaken as a consequence of the murder.
“Let me give you my card in case you happen to think of anything else you want to say, or if you just want to call me about something,” said Johan before they left.
“Thank you.”
She put his card on a chest of drawers without looking at it.
When they reached the stretch of gravel outside the house, Johan took a deep breath.
“What a woman,” he groaned, and turned around to look at Peter, who was walking right behind him with the camera on his shoulder.
“The prettiest one I’ve seen in a long time,” his colleague agreed. “What a charming accent. And those eyes. And what a body. I’m a goner.”
“You, too? Too bad she’s married and has kids.”
“That’s just my luck,” said Peter with a grin. “We need some shots of the outside, too. Give me a few minutes.” He disappeared around the corner of the house.
The parking lot outside Obs supermarket in the Ostercentrum shopping center was almost empty. In a couple of weeks it’ll be nearly impossible to move, thought Knutas as he sat at the desk in his office. He had talked to his wife on the phone. With the greatest enthusiasm she had described bringing a pair of twins into the world that day. She waxed poetic, since she herself was the mother of twins. Her positive attitude rubbed off on him, but it only lasted a little while. The warmth he had felt during their conversation was quickly replaced by a nagging uneasiness over Helena Hillerstrom’s murder.
Up until now, Gotland had been relatively murder free. Since 1950 only twenty murders had been committed on the island, and ten of them occurred during the nineties. The increase disturbed him. Almost all the murders had to do with internal disputes, usually within a family. Jealousy and drunken fights, for the most part. Two murder cases remained unsolved. One involved an elderly woman who was killed with a cane in her own home in Frojel in 1954, and one at the Visby Hotel in December 1996, when a female night clerk was murdered, presumably in connection with a break-in. That killing had taken place during Knutas’s time as head of the criminal department. In spite of the fact that the NCP were brought in at an early stage and three of their detectives stayed in Gotland for six months after the murder, they never managed to crack the case.
It still rankled inside him, like a thorn, but he tried not to think too much about it. The hotel murder had already given him enough sleepless nights.
He pulled out his pipe and carefully began filling it.
And now this. But this is something completely different, he thought. A young woman killed in a bestial way and with her panties stuffed in her mouth.
Two inspectors from the NCP had arrived in the morning, and that’s when they had their first meeting. The jovial Detective Superintendent Martin Kihlgard, convivial and loud, seemed almost a little too hearty. Previously Knutas had only heard people talk about him, and he knew that the man was quite competent. Even so, he didn’t really feel comfortable with him. No doubt things would get better with time. Kihlgard’s assistant, Detective Inspector Bjorn Hansson, made a more formal and precise impression, and that suited Knutas better.
Helena Hillerstrom’s body had been sent to the forensic medicine division in Solna, but first the medical team had examined the body at the scene. He was grateful for that. Experience told him that the chance of solving this murder increased significantly if the body was examined at the scene of the crime itself by the ME. In addition, a large area had been immediately cordoned off after the body was found. That was something else he had learned over the years. The bigger the area that was off limits, the better.
One problem was the lack of witnesses. No one had seen or heard anything. There were no buildings in close proximity to the beach. The only houses in the area stood some distance up the slope.
No murder weapon had been found, and no other clues of major significance. The only concrete evidence they had was several cigarette butts, which could just as well have been discarded there at some previous time, and a couple of shoe prints. The only thing they thought they knew about the killer was that he had big feet.
Everyone who had been at the party, except for Kristian Nordstrom, had now been interviewed. Nothing useful had come out. Knutas was almost positive that Per Bergdal was innocent. He had conducted enough interrogations in his years with the police that he could depend on his gut feeling. There was something straightforward and sincere about Bergdal’s manner of responding. By all accounts the scratches had been made by Helena, and the ME had found bruises on Helena’s cheek and behind her ear, indicating that she had been struck before she died. On the other hand, they knew that there had been a fight. The fact that Bergdal had not immediately admitted as much might be understandable. Now they needed to find something new, and quickly.
Knutas turned halfway around in his chair and looked out the window. It was a dreary gray day. This early summer season hadn’t been worth much so far. Yesterday’s sunshine had been a welcome change, but now the clouds were back.
Karin Jacobsson and Thomas Wittberg were now in place in Stockholm. Jacobsson had called him earlier in the day. They were very busy interviewing people who knew Helena Hillerstrom, and they would most likely have to stay a few more days. Knutas missed Karin whenever she wasn’t at the station. Of course, he was on good terms with the others in the group, but there was something special between him and Karin. They had found it easy to talk to each other from her very first day with the Visby police, after she had spent several years as a trainee in Stockholm. It wasn’t long before he had the utmost confidence in her. In the beginning, when they were getting to know each other, Knutas thought for a short time that he was in love with Karin, but it was just then that he met his future wife and fell instantly in love with her.
Karin Jacobsson did not have a boyfriend, as far as Knutas knew. Even though they worked so closely together, she rarely talked about her personal life.
It was three o’clock in the afternoon by the time Johan and Peter finished editing and sent off the interview with Emma Winarve. It took ten minutes for Grenfors to call. He praised them for the story, which was going to be shown on all the news programs that evening. Even so, Grenfors, who was never completely satisfied, wanted them to talk to the neighbors in the area as well. The murder had occurred right in their own backyard, after all, he said.
“But we’ve already been out there and talked to the old lady in Frojel,” Johan objected. His voice crackled with displeasure.
Peter was sitting in an armchair, watching him.