the grey haze.
They hurried over to Dalman Gate.
The street was swarming with activity. Police officers had been posted to make sure no one went inside the area that had been cordoned off. The small car park next to the gate was filled with police vehicles, and police dogs were searching the area. Johan pushed his way forward. Over by the gate he saw Knutas talking to an older man whom he recognized as the ME. He managed to catch Knutas’s eye, and the superintendent signalled for the ME to wait a moment. Johan was on good terms with the police after the serial murders of the previous summer, when he had actually helped the authorities solve the case.
Knutas gave Johan a firm and heartfelt handshake. They hadn’t seen each other since Johan had started working again.
‘How’s it going?’
‘I’m fine now. I’ve got a whale of a scar across my stomach, but hopefully that’ll just make me more interesting at the beach in the summertime. So what can you tell me about all this?’ Johan nodded towards the gate.
‘I can’t tell you much except that we’re certain it’s a homicide.’
‘How was he killed?’
‘You know I can’t discuss that right now.’
‘How can you be sure he didn’t take his own life?’ Johan was still fishing, hoping to get the superintendent to let something slip unintentionally.
But he was out of luck. Knutas just gave him a stern look.
‘OK, OK,’ said Johan, backing off. ‘Can you confirm that Egon Wallin, the art dealer, is the victim?’
Knutas sighed in resignation. ‘Officially, no. Not all the family members have been notified yet.’
‘How about unofficially?’
‘All right. It’s true. The victim is Egon Wallin. But you didn’t hear that from me.’
‘Could I do a short interview with you right here and now? An official one, that is?’ Johan grinned.
‘Be quick about it.’
Knutas didn’t say much more than what Johan already knew. But there was still a lot to be said for interviewing the officer in charge at the crime scene. Besides, it also showed all the work going on in the background. That was television’s strength: taking the viewer to the actual scene.
Johan and Pia interviewed a number of people who were in the vicinity. When they were finished, Johan looked at his watch.
‘We’ve got time to swing by the gallery too. The place is probably closed, since it’s Sunday, but we can still get an exterior shot. Maybe I can do a piece-to-camera there.’
‘Sure, of course.’ Pia folded up her equipment.
When they parked the TV car on Stora Torget, they saw flowers and burning torches on the pavement outside the gallery. A ‘Closed’ sign was posted on the door. All the lights were off, and through the dark Johan could just make out some of the big paintings hanging on the walls. Suddenly he gave a start. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone going up the stairs inside. He peered through the window to try to get a better view, and knocked on the door several times.
Even though he waited there for a long time, no one came to open it.
K nutas spent all of Sunday dashing madly between police headquarters and Dalman Gate. Late in the afternoon he suddenly realized that he had forgotten to ring home.
As soon as he heard Lina’s voice he remembered they were planning to have dinner with his parents at their farm up in Kappelshamn in northern Gotland. Damn it. He knew how particular they were about everything going according to schedule. In his mind he could already hear the disappointment in his father’s voice as Lina reported that his son wouldn’t be joining them. His father had never fully accepted the fact that Knutas had become a police officer. Not really. And his opinion still had an effect on Knutas, even though he was fifty-two years old. When it came to his parents, he would never be truly grown-up.
Lina, on the other hand, usually accepted a change in plan with equanimity, whether it was a postponed holiday in the
They hurried over to Dalman Gate.
The street was swarming with activity. Police officers had been posted to make sure no one went inside the area that had been cordoned off. The small car park next to the gate was filled with police vehicles, and police dogs were searching the area. Johan pushed his way forward. Over by the gate he saw Knutas talking to an older man whom he recognized as the ME. He managed to catch Knutas’s eye, and the superintendent signalled for the ME to wait a moment. Johan was on good terms with the police after the serial murders of the previous summer, when he had actually helped the authorities solve the case.
Knutas gave Johan a firm and heartfelt handshake. They hadn’t seen each other since Johan had started working again.
‘How’s it going?’
‘I’m fine now. I’ve got a whale of a scar across my stomach, but hopefully that’ll just make me more interesting at the beach in the summertime. So what can you tell me about all this?’ Johan nodded towards the gate.
‘I can’t tell you much except that we’re certain it’s a homicide.’
‘How was he killed?’
‘You know I can’t discuss that right now.’
‘How can you be sure he didn’t take his own life?’ Johan was still fishing, hoping to get the superintendent to let something slip unintentionally.
But he was out of luck. Knutas just gave him a stern look.
‘OK, OK,’ said Johan, backing off. ‘Can you confirm that Egon Wallin, the art dealer, is the victim?’
Knutas sighed in resignation. ‘Officially, no. Not all the family members have been notified yet.’
‘How about unofficially?’
‘All right. It’s true. The victim is Egon Wallin. But you didn’t hear that from me.’
‘Could I do a short interview with you right here and now? An official one, that is?’ Johan grinned.
‘Be quick about it.’
Knutas didn’t say much more than what Johan already knew. But there was still a lot to be said for interviewing the officer in charge at the crime scene. Besides, it also showed all the work going on in the background. That was television’s strength: taking the viewer to the actual scene.
Johan and Pia interviewed a number of people who were in the vicinity. When they were finished, Johan looked at his watch.
‘We’ve got time to swing by the gallery too. The place is probably closed, since it’s Sunday, but we can still get an exterior shot. Maybe I can do a piece-to-camera there.’
‘Sure, of course.’ Pia folded up her equipment.
When they parked the TV car on Stora Torget, they saw flowers and burning torches on the pavement outside the gallery. A ‘Closed’ sign was posted on the door. All the lights were off, and through the dark Johan could just make out some of the big paintings hanging on the walls. Suddenly he gave a start. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone going up the stairs inside. He peered through the window to try to get a better view, and knocked on the door several times.
Even though he waited there for a long time, no one came to open it.
K nutas spent all of Sunday dashing madly between police headquarters and Dalman Gate. Late in the afternoon he suddenly realized that he had forgotten to ring home.
As soon as he heard Lina’s voice he remembered they were planning to have dinner with his parents at their farm up in Kappelshamn in northern Gotland. Damn it. He knew how particular they were about everything going according to schedule. In his mind he could already hear the disappointment in his father’s voice as Lina reported that his son wouldn’t be joining them. His father had never fully accepted the fact that Knutas had become a police officer. Not really. And his opinion still had an effect on Knutas, even though he was fifty-two years old. When it came to his parents, he would never be truly grown-up.
Lina, on the other hand, usually accepted a change in plan with equanimity, whether it was a postponed holiday in the
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