Linköping. A lecture about specialist techniques and methodology.
A long lecture. With pauses for questions.
‘There have been demands that we should take more DNA swabs, what do you think about that?’
‘We think it is positive. In England they swab perpetrators even of break-ins, which means they have an enormous national DNA database at their disposal.’
‘And why don’t we do that here?’
The question came from Ulf, as usual.
‘The problem, if we want to see it as a problem, is our privacy laws. We are not allowed to create that type of database .’
‘Because?’
‘Personal integrity.’
They went on like that for a couple of hours. When the subject turned to the latest developments with regard to DNA analysis, Olivia became especially attentive. She even asked a question, which Ulf noted with a little smile.
‘Can you establish paternity from the DNA of an unborn fetus?’
‘Yes.’
It was a simple answer and it came from one of the lecturers, a redhead in a simply cut bluish-grey dress. A woman who had attracted Olivia’s attention as soon as she was introduced.
Her name was Marianne Boglund, forensic generalist at SKL.
It hadn’t taken many seconds for the penny to drop, but when it did Olivia found herself thinking ‘wow’. This was the woman who had been married to Tom Stilton.
Now she was standing up there beside the podium.
Olivia wondered whether she should take a gamble. Only the day before, she had checked out the address that had been given for the Stiltons. There was no Stilton there now.
She decided to take a gamble.
* * *
At a quarter past two the session was over. Olivia had seen Marianne Boglund following her tutor, Åke Gustafsson, into his office after the lecture. Now Olivia stood outside in the corridor and waited.
And waited.
Ought she to knock on the door? Was that being a bit too pushy? What if they were having sex in there?
She knocked on the door.
‘Yes.’
Olivia opened the door, apologised for disturbing, and asked if she could possibly have a minute or two with Marianne Boglund.
‘Just a moment,’ said Åke.
Olivia nodded and closed the door again. They hadn’t had sex. Where had she got that idea from? Too many films? Or because Boglund was a decidedly attractive woman and Åke Gustafsson had his eyebrows?
Marianne Boglund came out and stretched out her hand.
‘What can I help you with?’
Her handshake was firm and dry, her eyes very formal, she was hardly a woman in close contact with her emotions. Olivia was already regretting this.
‘I’m trying to get hold of Tom Stilton,’ she said.
Not a sound. Definitely not close contact.
‘I can’t find any address for him, nobody knows where he is, I just wanted to ask if you might happen to know where I can get hold of him.’
‘No.’
‘Could he have moved abroad?’
‘No idea.’
Olivia gave a little nod, thanked her briefly, turned round and went off along the corridor. Marianne remained standing where she was. Her gaze followed the young woman. Suddenly she took a couple of strides after her, then stopped.
Marianne Boglund’s answer tumbled around inside Olivia’s head. She had heard that answer several times now from different people. Obviously practical. At least when it was about Stilton. She was feeling rather disheartened.
And that she had behaved rather badly.
She had trespassed into people’s private sphere, she was aware of that. Boglund had definitely got that proverbial speck in her eye at the mention of Stilton’s name. And that was a speck that was absolutely none of Olivia’s business.
What on Earth was she playing at?
‘What are you playing at?’
It wasn’t her inner voice that acquired life. It was, of course, Ulf. He caught up with her on her way to the car and smiled.
‘Err, what?’
‘DNA of an unborn baby? Why did you want to know that?’
‘Curious.’
‘Is it about the Nordkoster case?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s it about?’
‘A
A long lecture. With pauses for questions.
‘There have been demands that we should take more DNA swabs, what do you think about that?’
‘We think it is positive. In England they swab perpetrators even of break-ins, which means they have an enormous national DNA database at their disposal.’
‘And why don’t we do that here?’
The question came from Ulf, as usual.
‘The problem, if we want to see it as a problem, is our privacy laws. We are not allowed to create that type of database .’
‘Because?’
‘Personal integrity.’
They went on like that for a couple of hours. When the subject turned to the latest developments with regard to DNA analysis, Olivia became especially attentive. She even asked a question, which Ulf noted with a little smile.
‘Can you establish paternity from the DNA of an unborn fetus?’
‘Yes.’
It was a simple answer and it came from one of the lecturers, a redhead in a simply cut bluish-grey dress. A woman who had attracted Olivia’s attention as soon as she was introduced.
Her name was Marianne Boglund, forensic generalist at SKL.
It hadn’t taken many seconds for the penny to drop, but when it did Olivia found herself thinking ‘wow’. This was the woman who had been married to Tom Stilton.
Now she was standing up there beside the podium.
Olivia wondered whether she should take a gamble. Only the day before, she had checked out the address that had been given for the Stiltons. There was no Stilton there now.
She decided to take a gamble.
* * *
At a quarter past two the session was over. Olivia had seen Marianne Boglund following her tutor, Åke Gustafsson, into his office after the lecture. Now Olivia stood outside in the corridor and waited.
And waited.
Ought she to knock on the door? Was that being a bit too pushy? What if they were having sex in there?
She knocked on the door.
‘Yes.’
Olivia opened the door, apologised for disturbing, and asked if she could possibly have a minute or two with Marianne Boglund.
‘Just a moment,’ said Åke.
Olivia nodded and closed the door again. They hadn’t had sex. Where had she got that idea from? Too many films? Or because Boglund was a decidedly attractive woman and Åke Gustafsson had his eyebrows?
Marianne Boglund came out and stretched out her hand.
‘What can I help you with?’
Her handshake was firm and dry, her eyes very formal, she was hardly a woman in close contact with her emotions. Olivia was already regretting this.
‘I’m trying to get hold of Tom Stilton,’ she said.
Not a sound. Definitely not close contact.
‘I can’t find any address for him, nobody knows where he is, I just wanted to ask if you might happen to know where I can get hold of him.’
‘No.’
‘Could he have moved abroad?’
‘No idea.’
Olivia gave a little nod, thanked her briefly, turned round and went off along the corridor. Marianne remained standing where she was. Her gaze followed the young woman. Suddenly she took a couple of strides after her, then stopped.
Marianne Boglund’s answer tumbled around inside Olivia’s head. She had heard that answer several times now from different people. Obviously practical. At least when it was about Stilton. She was feeling rather disheartened.
And that she had behaved rather badly.
She had trespassed into people’s private sphere, she was aware of that. Boglund had definitely got that proverbial speck in her eye at the mention of Stilton’s name. And that was a speck that was absolutely none of Olivia’s business.
What on Earth was she playing at?
‘What are you playing at?’
It wasn’t her inner voice that acquired life. It was, of course, Ulf. He caught up with her on her way to the car and smiled.
‘Err, what?’
‘DNA of an unborn baby? Why did you want to know that?’
‘Curious.’
‘Is it about the Nordkoster case?’
‘Yes.’
‘What’s it about?’
‘A
Similar Books
