“Of course, we don’t know that for sure,” replied Knutas, a little annoyed.
“She was staying at her summer house with her boyfriend. Is he a suspect?” asked Johan.
“The boyfriend has been questioned by the police. He’s suffering from shock and is currently in Visby Hospital. At the present time he is not a suspect. The interview with him will continue tomorrow morning. This afternoon and evening, the canine unit searched the area, and officers have been going door to door to locate any possible witnesses. We will be continuing with these efforts. Now I think that’s all we have to tell you at the moment. Are there any further questions before we adjourn?”
The superintendent answered the journalists’ questions as best he could. There wasn’t much else to say.
Johan Berg from Regional News decided to hold back any mention of the axe wounds on the woman’s body or the panties in her mouth. For the time being, he was clearly the only one who knew about them.
When the press conference was over, he went up to Anders Knutas for an individual interview. First Johan asked the obvious questions about what had happened, what the police were doing now, and what evidence they had found. Then he asked quite bluntly, “What conclusions have you drawn from the fact that she suffered multiple wounds, presumably from an axe?”
Anders Knutas gave a start.
“What do you mean?”
“The killer murdered her with an axe or some type of similar weapon, hacking her body multiple times. He also stuffed her panties in her mouth. What does that signify?”
Knutas glanced around self-consciously, looking both left and right, as if hoping for help from his colleagues. The bright glare of the camera shone in his face, blinding him.
“I know from a reliable source that these facts are true,” Johan persisted.
“That’s not something I can confirm,” snapped Knutas, shoving aside the microphone.
“Switch off the camera,” Johan told Peter. He took hold of the superintendent’s arm and said to him, “I know that it’s true. Wouldn’t it be better if you confirmed the information?”
Knutas gave Johan a stern look. “I can neither confirm nor deny what you’ve said, and I advise you to withhold such speculations for the time being. We’re dealing with a murderer, and what we need to concentrate on right now is catching him as soon as possible and nothing else,” he bellowed. “And I expect you to respect that.”
His voice was sharp as an awl, and it was easy to see what he thought of journalists as he turned on his heel and strode off down the corridor.
For Johan and Peter, Knutas’s reaction was sufficient confirmation that their information was accurate. The question was how much of it they should make public.
Johan called Max Grenfors from the cab on the way to the TV offices where the story was going to be edited. Even though he thought Grenfors was a slave driver of an editor, Johan trusted his journalistic judgment. After a brief discussion, they decided not to divulge the information about the victim’s panties being stuffed in her mouth, out of respect for her family. On the other hand, they did choose to report that the murder weapon was most likely an axe.
In the late-night news broadcast, Swedish TV was the first to report how the murder had been committed. The feature story began with images of police headquarters, then a map showing the scene of the crime. Next, Johan appeared on the screen.
“Here at police headquarters in Visby, a press conference was held a short time ago. The police confirm that a woman was murdered, but they are being quite reticent about the circumstances surrounding the death. The police will not yet say how the woman was killed. According to information provided this evening to Regional News from a very reliable source, she was killed with what is believed to be an axe. Multiple wounds were sustained on various parts of the body. It is not yet known whether she was subjected to sexual assault, but the woman was naked when she was found. Her clothes are still missing. The body will be sent to the forensic medicine division in Solna for autopsy. In spite of an intensive search of the area with dogs, which continued all afternoon and evening, at this time the police have no clues as to the killer’s identity.”
This was followed by a brief interview with a pale and resolute-looking Knutas, before the story concluded with what little was known about the murdered woman.
It turned out to be a long workday for the Visby police. The light June night facilitated their work down at the beach area. They kept on knocking on doors until late in the evening. At the same time, those who had been dinner guests at the home of Helena Hillerstrom on the previous evening were brought in to be interviewed. Except for Kristian Nordstrom, who had flown to Copenhagen to visit his parents. The police had contacted him, and he was supposed to fly back to Visby early Thursday.
By the time the most important interviews had been conducted, it was close to one in the morning. Earlier that evening Knutas had called home and told his wife, Lina, that he would be late. As usual, she was very understanding and asked him if she should wait up with a cup of tea for him. Reluctantly he had declined her offer. He didn’t know how late he would be.
Now, as he walked home through the streets of Visby, he regretted his decision. It would have been pleasant to sit down for a while and talk about his impressions of the day. It always did him good to share his thoughts with his wife. She would often come up with a new way of looking at things because she was not part of the investigative work. Many times she had turned his thoughts to new avenues that helped him to solve a case. Knutas felt a twinge of warmth in his heart. He loved her above all else. Except for their children, of course. Their twins, a boy and a girl. Petra and Nils. This summer they would be twelve.
When he got home, he looked in on them. They still shared a room, but in the fall they would each have their own. He was in the process of remodeling the study into a bedroom. The study would be moved down to the basement. They used it so seldom, anyway.
The children were sound asleep, breathing calmly. He left the door to their room slightly ajar and went to his own.
Lina lay stretched out across the whole double bed with her arms above her head. Look how much room she takes, he thought. She always did everything with the greatest enthusiasm. Whether she was sleeping, eating, working, laughing, or making love, she did it with such zest. She truly threw herself into life. No matter what she did, she did it properly. If she was baking, she never made do with just one batch. No, she had to make two hundred cinnamon rolls. When she did any major grocery shopping, she gave the impression that a war was on the way, and she always cooked too much food, so the freezer was full of leftovers. That was one of the things he loved about her, her sensual vitality. Right now she was sleeping heavily, wearing a long orange T-shirt decorated with a big flower. Her hair was ruffled, her cheeks rosy. Her arms were sprinkled with freckles. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever known.
Her profession was perfectly suited to her personality. She was a midwife. How many children had she helped come into the world? Lina worked part-time in the childbirth center at Visby Hospital, and she loved it. She was used to unanticipated events and having things not turn out the way you expected, and that made her very patient. Many times she would stay with an expectant mother because she didn’t have the heart to leave even though her shift was over, or else out of sheer curiosity. If she had been working for hours with a birth, she didn’t want to let it go before everything was resolved. Sometimes this could irritate her colleagues. Lina didn’t care. She was strong-willed and the most wonderful woman he had ever met.
Cautiously he closed the door again and went downstairs to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of milk and dug into a package of cookies. He took out a handful and sat down at the kitchen table. He often found it difficult to sleep after an eventful day. He petted the cat, who jumped up on the table and lovingly brushed against him. She’s more like a dog, he thought. Faithful and always in need of company. She also loved to play fetch. He threw a foam-rubber ball a few times. She ran off and got it, then brought it back to his feet. What a funny thing you are, thought Knutas, and went off to bed. Contrary to custom, he fell asleep at once.