Öhrn and his team are waiting at the police station. What do you say?”
Jana looked at the dashboard—11:48 a.m. She took a short breath and got her car moving again.
“I’ll drive straight there.”
* * *
Jana Berzelius quickly walked in through the main entrance of the Norrköping police station and took the elevator up to the third floor. The sound of her heels echoed in the wide corridor. She looked straight ahead and gave only a brief nod to the two uniformed policemen that she passed.
The head of the CID, Gunnar Öhrn, waited for her outside his office and showed her to the conference room. One long wall was dominated by windows which overlooked the Norrtull roundabout, where the lunch traffic had already become noticeable. On the opposite wall a whiteboard of considerable size was mounted, along with a film screen. A projector hung from the ceiling.
Jana went up to the oval table where the team sat waiting. First she exchanged greetings with DCI Henrik Levin, then she nodded to the technician Ola Söderström, Anneli Lindgren and Mia Bolander before sitting down.
“Chief Public Prosecutor Torsten Granath has just put Jana Berzelius in charge of the preliminary investigation of the Hans Juhlén case.”
“Right.”
Mia Bolander clenched her teeth, crossed her arms and leaned back. She distrusted the woman she considered her rival, who was about the same age as she. The investigation would be arduous with Jana Berzelius at the helm.
The few times Mia Bolander had been forced to work with Jana Berzelius had not made her feel friendly toward the prosecutor. Mia felt Jana just had no personality. She was too stiff, too formal. She never seemed to relax and enjoy herself. If you are colleagues, you ought to get to know one another more. Perhaps share a beer or two after work and just chat a bit. Be social. But Mia had relatively quickly learned that Jana was a person who didn’t appreciate such friendly moments. Any question, no matter how small, about her private life was answered with just an arrogant look.
Mia considered Jana Berzelius an arrogant fucking diva. Unfortunately, nobody else shared Mia’s opinion. On the contrary, they nodded appreciatively when Gunnar presented Jana now.
What Mia detested most was Jana’s status as an upper-class girl. Jana was old money, while Mia, with her working-class background, was mortgaged. That was as good a reason as any for her to keep her distance from Jana and her airs.
Out of the corner of her eye, Jana noted the disdainful looks from the female inspector but chose to ignore them. She opened her briefcase and pulled out a notepad and pen.
Gunnar Öhrn drank the last few drops from a bottle of mineral water, then handed out packets to everyone which contained copies of everything they had documented about the case so far. It included the initial report; photos from the crime scene and immediate vicinity; a sketch of the Juhlén house where the victim, Hans Juhlén, had been found; and a short description of Juhlén. Lastly came a log with times and investigative steps that had already been taken since the victim had been discovered.
Gunnar pointed to the timeline that had been drawn on the whiteboard. He also described the initial report of the conversation with the victim’s wife, Kerstin Juhlén, which had been signed by the police officers in the patrol car. They had been the first to interview her.
“Kerstin Juhlén was, however, hard to talk to properly,” said Gunnar.
She had initially come close to being hysterical, had screamed loudly and talked incoherently. At one point she started to hyperventilate. And all the time she had repeatedly said she didn’t kill her husband. She only found him in the living room. Dead.
“So do we suspect her, then?” said Jana and noticed that Mia was still glaring at her.
“Yes, she is of interest. We have detained her. She hasn’t got a verifiable alibi.”
Gunnar thumbed through the packet of papers.
“Okay, to summarize then. Hans Juhlén was murdered some time between 15:00 and 19:00 yesterday. Perpetrators unknown. The forensic experts says the murder took place in the house. That is, the body had not been transported from anywhere else. Correct?”
He nodded to Anneli Lindgren to confirm.
“That’s right. He died there.”
“The body was taken to the medical examiner’s lab at 22:21 and inspectors continued to go through the house until after midnight.”
“Yes, and I found these.”
Anneli put down ten sheets of paper with a single sentence written on each. “They lay well hidden in the back of the wardrobe in the victim’s bedroom. They appear to be short threatening letters.”
“Do we know who sent them and to whom they were addressed?” asked Henrik as he reached across to examine them. Jana made a note about them in her notepad.
“No. I got these copies from forensics in Linköping this morning. It’ll probably take a day or so before they can get us more information,” said Anneli.
“What do they say?” said Mia. She pulled her hands inside the sleeves of her knitted sweater, put her elbows on the table and looked at Anneli with curiosity.
“The same message is on each one—‘Pay now or risk paying the bigger price.’”
“Blackmail,” said Henrik.
“So it would seem. We spoke to Mrs. Juhlén. She denies any knowledge of the letters. She seemed genuinely surprised about them.”
“They hadn’t been reported then, these threats?” said Jana and wrinkled her brow.
“No, nothing has been reported by the victim himself, his wife or anybody else,” said Gunnar.
“And what about the murder weapon?” said Jana, switching the topic.
“We haven’t found one yet. Nothing was near the body or in the immediate vicinity,” said Gunnar.
“Any DNA traces or shoe tracks?”
“No,” said Anneli. “But when the wife came home, a window was open in the living room. It seems fairly clear that the perpetrator gained entrance that way. The wife closed it, unfortunately, which has made it more difficult for us. But we did manage to find two interesting handprints.”
“Whose prints?” said Jana and held her pen ready to note down a name.
“Don’t know yet, but everything points to their being the prints of a child. The strange thing is that the couple don’t have any children.”
Jana looked up from her notepad.
“Is that really significant? Surely they know someone who has children. A friend? Relative?” she said.
“We haven’t been able to ask Kerstin Juhlén more about it yet,” answered Gunnar.
“Well, that must be the next step. Preferably straightaway.”
Jana took her calendar out of her briefcase and flipped through to today’s date. Reminders, times and names were neatly written on the pale yellow pages.
“I want us to talk to her as soon as possible.”
“I’ll phone her lawyer, Peter Ramstedt, right away,” said Gunnar.
“Good,” said Jana. “Get back to me with a time as soon as you can.” She put her calendar back in her briefcase. “Have you questioned any of the neighbors yet?”
“Yes, the nearest ones,” said Gunnar.
“And?”
“Nothing. Nobody saw or heard anything.”
“Then ask more. Knock on all the doors along the entire street and in the immediate vicinity. Lindö has many big homes, a lot of