Grendel's Game by Erik Mauritzson Page A

called him immediately.
    â€œLudvig, thanks for calling. What have you got?”
    â€œUnfortunately, not a hell of a lot. The paper is available everywhere and the printer used is a popular Canon model. There are no unidentified fingerprints. The ones we found match file prints for you, Holm, and the mail people. The sender probably wore gloves, which may indicate his prints could be on file. The good news, however, is that by carefully lifting the envelope flap we were able to extract some fragments of DNA. He either made a mistake, probably using saliva on his gloved finger, or doesn’t care about DNA because we don’t have his on file and he thinks he’ll never be caught.”
    â€œBut is there enough for a match?”
    â€œYes, perhaps. We ran it through the DNA database, but all we got was confirmation the sender is male. That could be because the sample was inadequate or there was just nothing to match it against. In my opinion, it was probably the latter.”
    â€œThat would be my guess, as well. This is someone we have no DNA record of.”
    â€œWhen you have a suspect we can try again.”
    â€œLudvig, you’ve been a great help, as always.”
    â€œIn a negative sort of way.” Malmquist paused. “If you want my unsolicited opinion, you’re right to pursue this. I don’t believe he’s just a crackpot. I think he’s dangerous. Possibly, already a killer.”
    â€œThat’s what I’ve been afraid of. I hope we’ll know more soon. I’ve got a team working on it.”
    â€œGood luck. And Walther, if I can be of any more help, don’t hesitate.”
    â€œThanks, Ludvig,” said Ekman, ending the call.
    Paper had piled up in his in-basket as usual and Ekman, looking at it, sighed. It had been an eventful day. He was feeling worn and had no patience for routine paperwork; instead he took out his needlepoint to try and relax. He was relieved when Holm knocked and came in.
    â€œI’ve checked on the bag snatching,” Holm said. “There’ve only been occasional reports in the recent past, nothing lately, and no motor scooters have been involved.” He’d often seen Ekman stitching while they spoke.
    â€œSo, I guess I was their first, but not their last. Please keep an eye open for similar incidents, Enar.”
    â€œSure, Chief. Is there anything else you’d like me to do about it?”
    â€œRight now, I think we’ll just have to wait and see what develops. How are the missing-person cases going?”
    â€œGerdi and I have been making good progress. From their background, almost all the unsolved cases we’ve seen seem to have been properly handled as likely family or business problems: husbands and wives running out on each other, teens taking off, and people escaping creditors. Most of these are still being worked because a trail is active. There are a few unresolved disappearances, however, that don’t fit the usual pattern and aren’t easily explained. We should have more for you by tomorrow’s meeting.”
    â€œSounds interesting. I’ll let you get on with it,” Ekman said, getting up as Holm left.

12

    Confession
    T he stress of the robbery had made Ekman more tired than he’d realized and he decided to head home early. First, he wanted to stop at the stall in the square and get some flowers for Ingbritt. He’d have to tell her about the robbery, and somehow hoped the flowers would ease a difficult conversation.
    Unlocking the drawer where he’d put his gun, he took it out of the holster, which he left, and slipped the gun into his overcoat pocket. Although he wasn’t expecting anything more to happen, that afternoon’s incident had made him cautious. He also hadn’t forgotten what Karlsson had said about the letter writer’s apparent fixation on him.
    Holm wasn’t at his desk, so Ekman left him a note saying he could be reached