The Little Old Lady Who Broke All the Rules (22 page)

As Petra heard the elevator descend and she was alone again in the annex, she set to work. The construction workers had left some things lying around: insulation material, a roll of protective paper, garbage bags and other bits and pieces. She quickly wrapped the two paintings in the protective paper and put them inside a brown garbage bag together with some insulation, old newspapers and other junk. Then she put the filled bag in the bathroom. The garbage wouldn’t be collected until Friday, and until then she needn’t worry. She had twenty-four hours to smuggle the paintings out of the Grand Hotel.

As she left the hotel, she said hello to the two receptionists and exchanged a few jocular words with the doormen. Then she went home on the underground. She was on tenterhooks all the way to the university campus and couldn’t help thinking about everything that could fail, but she managed to persuade herself that it would all work out. She thought about her parents, who had such great hopes for her. ‘My conscientious little girl,’ her mother used to say. And her father, who always boasted about her. If they found out! If things went
wrong, she would be on her own. Her parents had never gone out of their way for her before and certainly wouldn’t do so now. Her mother meant well, but had poor health, and her father seemed to have had children mainly so that he could boast about something. He had worked in a radio shop, and if he hadn’t inherited quite a lot of money, they would never have been able to afford to move to Stockholm. She was the first in the family to go to university. If he found out that she had hidden paintings worth thirty million, he would simply faint. No, he would have a heart attack.

On her lunch break the next day, she hurried to the Royal Palace and paid to go into the Royal Armoury Museum but didn’t bother about any of the exhibits. Instead, she went straight into the museum shop and went through all the pictures and posters depicting the King and Queen. After browsing a while, she settled on a colour print of the King in uniform and one of the royal couple. She bought them and put them in a protective cardboard tube before returning to the hotel.

During the afternoon Petra made lots of trips to the annex to check that everything was still there. When she had finished cleaning, she waited half an hour more until the construction workers had gone home and then took the elevator to the annex. She carefully opened the door to the bathroom and stood there quietly a few minutes until she was absolutely certain she was alone. The chief barman wasn’t due at work until two hours later, so she had plenty of time. When she knew that she was alone, she unwrapped the paintings and put the Monet on the carpenter’s bench. It was quite a lot of work to get the painting out of the frame, and she had to use some pliers that were in the room before
she managed it. Then she put the colour print of the King in uniform on top of the
Scheide
painting and stapled the print to the edge of the canvas. Having done that, she put it back in the frame, leaned the picture against the wall and took a few steps back. He looked really handsome, the King, standing there in his grey uniform with lots of medals on his chest. His uniform cap fitted nicely and hid the fact that his hair was thinning. He looked much more stylish than those fat politicians you see on TV nowadays, she thought. Perhaps she ought to stop voting for the Social Democrats, because she was a royalist. How could you be against a royal family? If you got rid of a king, you would have to replace him with another head of state—and that wouldn’t be any better, would it?

She then moved on to the Renoir painting. The large gilded frame was perfect for a picture of the King and Queen together. She removed the heavy frame, put the colour print on top of the canvas and stapled it in place. Then she put the wretched frame back around the canvas again—which took some effort. She flicked her hair away from her face and looked at her handiwork. Now the picture really looked rather fancy, but it did, after all, show the Swedish royal couple. The two of them were what represented the country abroad, and the Social Democrats could say what they wanted! It was just a pity that Queen Silvia had had a face lift. One of the most beautiful women in the world had not thought herself beautiful enough. That was a catastrophe for the women’s movement, and a great disappointment for women in general, Petra thought. She examined the two pictures again. The colours were just right, and the frames were pretty good too. Perhaps
the gilded frame around the royal couple was a bit too fancy. Petra took some dirt from the floor and rubbed it on the frame until it all looked a bit kitsch. Only if you actually lifted the pictures would you realize how heavy they were—otherwise you might well think they were plastic frames!

Petra put back the tools, put the garbage bag with the other rubbish and checked that she hadn’t dropped anything on the floor. Then she wrapped the pictures in the protective paper again, put them in two black plastic bags and put these in the suitcase she had brought with her. For a few moments, she stared at the suitcase before locking it, then she pulled out the handle and wheeled it along to the elevator. What she was doing was not theft. She was just
borrowing
the pictures a while, and as soon as she had got the reward, the pictures would be back in the museum.

Nobody paid any attention to her when she left the hotel, and on the underground she was just one of many travellers with a suitcase. When she got home, she closed the door and gave a sigh of relief. Her little picture expedition had been a success, and if she hadn’t taken care of the works of art they might have been lost for ever. Indeed, she was actually rather proud of her achievement. The paintings were now safe. She made a cup of tea and ate a sandwich before dealing with them. She looked around and decided that the best place for them would be over the sofa. So she hung up the pictures, took a few steps back, and with a look of satisfaction on her face observed how the King and Queen smiled at her from their gilded frames. Nobody, absolutely nobody, would ever think of looking for a Renoir and a Monet in a student room.

Heavy clouds hung over the country house park and there was thunder in the air when Christina and Anna-Greta arrived at Hinseberg. When the gates were opened and Martha caught sight of her friends, she was filled with warmth. At last she would be able to spend time with her old soulmates again, and that would be such a relief because the last few days had been particularly trying.

When Liza got better, it turned out that she wouldn’t be able to get a temporary release for several weeks because all the probation officers at the prison were fully booked, and then came the holidays. Yes, it would be quite a while before she got out. Liza glared angrily at Martha as if she suspected something. Martha understood exactly. Someone like her would be certain to take her revenge.

It took quite a long time for Christina and Anna-Greta to go through the strip search, get installed in their cells and then receive their first introduction. Evidently, everything went well because only a few hours later you could hear a horn concerto coming from Anna-Greta’s room. According to the rules, you could only bring in five personal items, including flowerpots, books and CDs. Anna-Greta seemed to have managed to convince some poor screw that she couldn’t survive without her vinyl records. The screws probably just couldn’t take her neighing. It had been different when Martha arrived—she hadn’t even been allowed to bring in her knitting and the half-finished cardigan.

After lunch, the weather cleared up and Martha went into
the yard. The three would be meeting for the first time since Kronoberg and she was apprehensive. The other two would surely be angry with her now that they had seen what a real prison was like. When the door opened and her friends came out into the yard, she had to inhale deeply several times before going to meet them. The sun was shining and there was a lovely scent from the lilac bushes. The cherry trees were in full blossom, and the air felt warm and mild.

‘I hope you aren’t angry at me for getting you involved in this,’ said Martha when she had greeted them and they had turned down onto the track that led through the grounds. The birds were singing and everybody except Anna-Greta could hear the wind in the tree tops.

‘Angry? But goodness, not at all! I haven’t had so much fun since the parties at the bank,’ Anna-Greta exclaimed. She fumbled with her lighter and lit a cigarillo. Christina and Martha looked at each other in astonishment. Their friend took a deep drag, coughed and then went on: ‘Yes, just look how lovely it is here. This is quite something in comparison to the boring old lounge at Diamond House.’

Christina agreed. ‘Why should we be sorry? This is what we were yearning for. A nice place to live with the chance to be outdoors everyday. Besides, they serve us food made in their own kitchens. Pity about the old boys, of course, but we must console ourselves as best we can.’

‘Console ourselves?’ Martha wondered.

‘Yes, without Brains and Rake we will have to make do with the screws. I saw several of them when I arrived here. Good-looking men; handsome and without a beer belly. The
ones I saw had lots of muscles. The one with the sideburns isn’t bad at all.’

‘But Christina! What would Rake say?’ said Martha. Anna-Greta seemed to be dreaming of something far away.

‘You know what? Gunnar came to visit me in remand prison.’

‘Gunnar, how on earth?’ Christina asked.

‘He is shy, of course. When he finally plucked up the courage and sought me out at the Grand Hotel, I was already behind bars. That didn’t stop him, though; he actually went and found out where I was.’

‘That’s amazing! Is he the one who got you to start smoking cigarillos?’ Martha wondered.

‘Yes, do you want one? I can ask the screw to hand them out to you too.’

‘Thank you, but we can manage nicely without,’ said Christina and Martha with one voice, and they backed away from the smoke.

‘And Gunnar, well,’ Anna-Greta went on with a happy smile on her lips, ‘he didn’t condemn me at all; on the contrary. He had read about the art coup and thought it was fantastic that we had fooled the National Museum as well as the police. All the women he had met before had been so boring, he said, and in comparison to them I was a wonderful tornado.’

‘Tornado?’ Martha savoured the expression. Not just a ‘refreshing breeze’ but a
‘tornado’
. If he was judging her by her voice, then he had hit the nail on the head.

‘He promised to visit me here too.’

‘No!’ said Martha.

‘And you know what?’ Anna-Greta continued, ‘Gunnar has a large record collection and has lent me three crates with vinyl records. Best of all, he likes Swedish gospel and there are several records with Lapp-Lisa. He loves it when she sings “Childhood Faith”.’

‘Jackpot,’ Martha muttered.

‘Anyhow, it’s really nice here,’ said Christina with a glance at the lawns. ‘It is like sitting in a huge garden.’

‘Yes, isn’t it!’ said Martha. ‘In the old days prisoners lived in old wooden buildings, but—’

‘Inmates,’ Anna-Greta corrected her, as she thought everything should be called by its proper name.

‘But it was extremely primitive and you had to ask when you wanted to go to the toilet. The buildings were demolished some years ago, so now we have this park instead.’ Martha was proud to share the knowledge she had acquired about their new residence.

‘A country-house setting, and almost as grand as the Grand Hotel,’ exclaimed Christina and she gestured with her arms as if she wanted to embrace the whole world.

‘The Grand Hotel? That’s a bit of an exaggeration,’ Anna-Greta snorted. ‘This is nothing in comparison with a house in Djursholm, and have you seen the chain-link fencing? So tasteless, and it is four metres high. But we don’t have to pay for the rooms, of course. When they charged my card at the Grand Hotel, that gobbled up three years’ worth of savings. And I want that money back, just so you know.’

‘Of course!’ said Martha and Christina at the same time.

‘But the Grand Hotel had a fine spa, and we had fun, didn’t we?’ said Christina. ‘At Diamond House we just sat and stared at the ugly blocks of flats across the street.’

‘The grounds here are lovely, and there is a gym too,’ Martha added.

‘Excellent. I have started to build up my muscles—or whatever it’s called,’ said Anna-Greta. ‘Gunnar likes beauty, he has told me. By the way, is there a spa here?’ She took a last drag on the cigarillo, threw it to the ground and pushed it into the earth with her heel.

‘No, but there is a sauna of sorts,’ Martha answered. ‘And a kiosk. And we can receive visits. But only from people who don’t have a criminal record. A pity about Brains and Rake. You, Anna-Greta, are the only one who’ll get to see her man.’

‘Neeeiiigh!’ she exclaimed, and it sounded louder and more pleased than usual.

The three ladies had a lot to talk about, and when they saw an empty bench by the path, they sat down. In the calm, they inhaled all the scents of early summer and looked out over the greenery. Some girls were busy weeding borders, and a bit further away another was cutting the grass. Christina smiled absently.

‘You know what, Emma and Anders visited me in the remand prison. They praised me for the art theft and wondered if I had anything else in the pipeline. As if one could steal from a prison! I was so pleased when the children came to see me. I hope they come here too, and that they’ll bring Emma’s new baby,’ Christina babbled on. ‘You know, I’ve got three grandchildren now!’

Martha, who was childless, pretended to be interested.

‘Did everything go all right?’

‘Emma had made up her mind to give birth at home, but then her husband said that it was a stupid idea.’

‘Usch, yes, what nonsense,’ Anna-Greta agreed.

‘Then Emma wanted to give birth in water instead, like in the 1970s.’

‘Yes, another fad,’ said Martha, who had read an article about it one day. ‘If it’s not one thing, it’s another.’

‘So how did it go, then?’ Anna-Greta asked, now curious.

‘She gave birth before they had time to fill the pool with water.’

Anna-Greta laughed so loudly that if she’d still had the cigarillo in her hand she would have dropped it. Martha and Christina joined in the merriment and had a good laugh just as Liza was walking by.

‘You’ll have to be wary of that curly haired girl,’ said Martha, nodding in Liza’s direction. ‘She’s got quite a bite, that one. She asked me about the art theft. Interrogated me, in fact; it was worse than the questioning by the police.’

‘Oh dear!’ Anna-Greta exclaimed.

‘Unfortunately, I told her that the paintings have disappeared. Then she wanted to help track them down in exchange for a part of the ransom money.’

‘What cheek!’ Christina said.

‘Yes, and we mustn’t involve more people because then we’ll lose control.’

‘Looks like we already have,’ commented Anna-Greta.

‘Pah, it’ll sort itself out. But before we commit even one new illegal act, we must find the paintings and give them back to the museum,’ Martha stated forcefully.

‘Indeed, but how are we going to do that?’ wondered Christina, who had started to be obsessed with crime. Now she
wasn’t reading Selma Lagerlöf and Verner von Heidenstam, the great Swedish classics, but she preferred whodunits. In the remand prison she had listened with bated breath as soon as anybody talked about robberies.

‘Perhaps Gunnar can be of help,’ Anna-Greta suggested.

‘We weren’t going to involve anybody else,’ Christina pointed out.

‘You know, Liza said something about a reward.’ Martha lowered her voice. ‘Not a bad idea. If we announce a reward of one million kronor to the person who finds the paintings, perhaps they will come to light. We do have four or five million in the drainpipe.’

‘Are we going to give away one million?’ Anna-Greta opened her eyes wide. ‘No, one hundred thousand should suffice.’

‘But the museum must get its paintings. Even villains have their professional honour,’ said Martha.

‘As long as we don’t end up in prison,’ Christina squeaked.

‘As if we weren’t already here,’ Anna-Greta pointed out.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ Christina announced. Momentarily, she was distracted by some sparrows that had gathered in the bushes just close by, but then she refocussed her attention and continued. ‘We put out an advertisement about a reward as soon as possible and when we get an answer we ask to get a temporary release and—’

‘But then we will have a probation officer with us,’ Anna-Greta objected. ‘Perhaps it would be better to wait until we are let out with an electronic tag.’

‘But can you stay at the Grand Hotel with an electronic tag?’ Christina wondered.

‘No, the police will be able to track us on some computer and see exactly what we do, and then we’ll reveal the money in the drainpipe,’ said Martha.

‘Can’t we take the tag off and put it on one of the horses in the guards’ parade instead?’ suggested Anna-Greta, who had ridden as a hobby once upon a time. Martha and Christina looked at each other and wondered it they had heard correctly. Anna-Greta rarely used to joke. Gunnar had achieved miracles.

‘We shall have to think this over very thoroughly,’ said Martha finally, ‘concoct a plan and ask for temporary release.’

The others thought this sounded wise, and they left it at that. But Martha was not at all satisfied, because deep inside she felt a gnawing anxiety about Liza. What if that she-devil found the paintings first?