Detective Inspector Huss - By Helene Tursten & Steven T. Murray Page 0,2

Lund sympathetically.

“Where are they now?”

“The ambulance took them off to Sahlgren Hospital. But you won’t be able to talk to her for a couple of days, and the son was chalk white in the face. He even threw up before they got into the ambulance.”

Lund looked serious, but suddenly brightened up and exclaimed, “Hey, I know someone you’ll be interested in meeting. Come on!”

Irene followed him over toward the crime team’s van. With a histrionic gesture he opened up one of the side doors and said, “This is Fru Eva Karlsson. Fru Karlsson, this is Detective Inspector Irene Huss.”

He turned to the little old woman in the light-gray trench coat, who nodded mutely in greeting. On her knees sat a brown dachshund. It clearly did not suffer from muteness. Over the dog’s frantic yapping Irene could hear Lund saying, “This is the closest witness we have. She was standing about seven meters from the point of impact.”

Irene turned to the woman. A trembling, thin white hand was held out toward her. Cautiously, she took the fragile, ice-cold hand in hers. In a soothing tone of voice she began, “Fru Karlsson, I’d like to hear a little about the tragic event you were witness to this evening—”

“Frightful! I’m almost seventy-seven years old, and this is the most appalling thing that has ever happened to me in my whole life! To watch a human being smashed right at my feet! He almost fell right on top of Snoopy!”

A thin white finger pointed accusingly at the remains of Richard von Knecht. Irene gave up at once. It would be best to drive the old lady home and try to interview her later.

Over by the body, Stridner had begun packing up her things. With a practiced motion the professor tore off the rubber gloves, took off her lab coat, and stuffed all of it into her bag. She had already removed the plastic protectors from her feet. Without looking at him, Stridner made a queenly gesture with her arm to the young police sergeant, who had been patiently holding her coat for more than a quarter of an hour. She seemed only now to notice all the people standing around her. She called out, “Is there anyone from Violent Crimes here?”

Superintendent Andersson slumped, sighed, and shambled over to her.

“All right, Andersson. Come and look. Don’t step in the blood,” said the pathologist.

Inspector Huss stole after her superintendent. Stridner had taken a pen from the outside pocket of her bag. She pulled briskly on one end and produced a meter-long lecture pointer. It was perfectly in character for Yvonne Stridner to go around with a pointer in her bag. She said urgently, “Look there at the top of the right hand. I’ve turned his hand forward so that the light falls on it. Look!”

She gestured with her slender pointer. The two detectives looked. Running across the entire back of the hand was a deep groove. It wasn’t as incised as a knife wound, but it had clearly been caused by something relatively sharp.

Andersson ventured to ask, “Couldn’t he have gotten that from the fall?”

“No. Too distinct. The wound was inflicted by an instrument or weapon. Since I happen to know . . . knew . . . von Knecht, this death affects me personally. I’m actually supposed to be teaching graduate students all morning tomorrow, but I’ll see to the autopsy myself. I’ll start by eight at the latest and will let you know after eleven.”

“Isn’t there a chance you could take a look at him tonight?” Superintendent Andersson gazed at the professor without much hope. She fluffed her red tresses with her fingertips. Her hairdo had been thoroughly soaked while she was doing her preliminary investigation. “Not necessary, Andersson,” she replied curtly. “It’s almost certain that this is a homicide.”

Irene Huss stared incredulously at the pathologist. Rage began to rise inside her: being condescended to stimulates the release of adrenaline in most people. She interrupted the conversation acerbically. “Wait just a minute! What are you basing this on? And how did you know von Knecht?”

The pathologist gave her a surprised look, as if only now noticing that another person was present. Sven Andersson muttered Irene Huss’s name and title in explanation. Before Professor Stridner managed to reply, some ambulance men came over and asked whether it was all right to take the body to Pathology. The ME nodded. She gestured toward the main entry.

“We’ll wait over there so we won’t be in the way.