The Torso: A Detective Inspector Huss Investigation, Vol. 2 (38 page)

“What’s it called?” Hannu asked.

“Don’t remember,” Jonny answered.

“Go get it,” said Andersson.

Reluctantly, Jonny sauntered off to his office. He came back with a video in hand. Hannu reached out for it.

“It doesn’t say anything on it,” he determined.

“It’s a copy of a feature-length film. The title is at the beginning,” Jonny informed them.

Hannu disappeared into a room with video equipment. While they were waiting, Birgitta informed them that she had found Marcus’s password.

“He had saved it in Netscape Bookmarks. Guess what it is?”

She paused for effect and looked around at the curious faces in the room. She slowly turned her notebook, which she had in her lap. In black ink it said: 69 Hotnights.

“Hot nights? That’s ridiculous!” Irene exclaimed.

“I’ve found a customer and address list, different jobs, and so on. I’ll print out the things that seem interesting,” Birgitta continued.

“Have you found any names we recognize yet?” asked Irene.

“Not yet. But I’ve barely had time to look at them.”

Hannu came in with the videotape in hand. He had put the cassette back in the cover.

“It’s
The New York Ripper
,” he said.

Everyone looked puzzled, and finally he realized that he would have to explain himself.

“It’s illegal. It shows real murders.”

“A snuff movie?” Fredrik asked.

“Yes.”

“But aren’t those just tall tales? I was under the impression that it was never proved that there were actual murders in the films,” said Birgitta.

“I know the names of three of them that show actual killings. One of them is
The New York Ripper
,” Hannu said firmly.

Irene turned toward Jonny.

“Was this the only movie with this kind of content?” she asked.

Jonny nodded sullenly.

“Was there any element of sadistic sex in the other films?”

“Yes. Sick types with leather whips and several guys on top of one guy and that sort of thing. Disgusting!”

“They’re not very different from heterosexual porn films,” Irene said dryly.

“Of course, you’re very familiar with those,” Jonny sneered.

“Yes. As everyone is well aware, I’ve spent a good deal of time in Vesterbro. You don’t need to see the films. It’s enough just looking in the display windows,” she countered coldly.

Jonny snorted but didn’t continue the dispute.

“I’ll leave this with the technicians,” Hannu said and disappeared again with the video cover in a careful hold.

“Maybe I should try and call Copenhagen? It would be interesting to know if
The New York Ripper
is among Emil’s videos,” said Irene.

The superintendent nodded.

“Do that. And inform them about this latest murder.”

He turned toward Fredrik Stridh.

“Take some guys and start knocking on doors as soon as possible. This bastard has had incredible luck but it has to run out at some point. And this time the trail is fresh and we can go after him quickly.”

Irene nodded. “And he has actually left evidence behind. He must have been panicked when he destroyed the photo of Bolin’s family. Why? Well, the picture he wanted wasn’t in the studio. Because it’s standing here.”

She pointed at
Manpower
, which was leaning against the wall just inside the door.

“Do you think that picture is so important that he’s willing to kill for it?” Andersson objected skeptically.

“Yes. Think about what happened to Tom Tanaka. There are probably only two enlargements of
Manpower
. Marcus had one of them. He deposited it, along with the picture of himself, at Tom Tanaka’s before he left for his supposed vacation. For some reason he let the other picture of himself leaning against the pillows hang in Emil’s apartment. Either Emil got it from Marcus or he took it after Marcus was dead. But Basta found out where
Manpower
was, probably through Emil. And he knew that Erik Bolin had the other enlargement along with some small pictures and negatives. But there wasn’t as much of a hurry with Bolin. Basta probably didn’t think that we would find out who had taken the pictures.”

“According to the preliminary report from Stridner, Bolin has been dead for more than twelve hours. That means the murderer must have arrived pretty early in the evening. Someone may have seen him,” said Birgitta.

Irene wasn’t so sure about that. Kastellgatan was relatively quiet and calm, without many shops. But there was always a possibility.

 

PETER MØLLER answered the telephone despite the fact that it was after six o’clock. Irene couldn’t hear any guardedness in his voice; instead, it sounded as though he thought it was nice that she was calling. She started by asking if
The New York Ripper
was among Emil’s films. Peter promised to find out. When she had relayed the day’s discovery of the latest murder he became very serious.

“He’s following you,” he said.

That wasn’t what Irene wanted to hear. The short hairs rose up on her neck and she shivered, despite the summer heat. Peter wasn’t the first one to point this out. And she had thought about it herself many times lately. The murderer was close by.

“How’s Tom?” she asked in order to change the subject.

“He’s conscious but very tired. The doctor said that he had to be sewn up with over a hundred stitches. Your friend Tom is beautifully embroidered.”

Irene’s heart ached in sympathy. Poor Tom, who was so appearance conscious. She remembered the silver threads he had twisted around his hair knots and his blue nail polish.

“Could you please say hello to him from me? Actually, can you buy a bouquet of flowers from me? I’ll send money.”

“Buy flowers! If I could understand what you and that . . . OK. I’ll do it.”

It was quiet for a moment and Irene was just about to end the phone call when Peter said, “Jens told me that you had asked him about my trip to South Africa. That you thought I became cross and strange when you asked about it.”

“Yes . . . it had to do with the fact that Marcus had talked about a police officer who worked in Vesterbro, and then he was tricked into going to Göteborg with the promise of a trip to Thailand . . . and you were tan,” she tried to explain.

She quietly blessed the fact that the Göteborg police didn’t have videophones. A blush spread across her cheeks. Peter’s answer strengthened her wish that videophones might never become standard.

“The trip to South Africa was an attempt at patching up my marriage. But it didn’t work. The trip was a catastrophe from beginning to end.”

He paused and then added, “It’s too bad that you brought up that trip. I became . . . upset. Otherwise it could have been a very pleasant evening ...and night, for both of us.”

Irene was surprised. At the same time she became aware of the tingling warmth spreading between her thighs. Peter was beautiful. His eyes were so blue and his body so muscular and agile. He smelled good and he moved in a sexy way. Her breathing quickened. God! Two police officers almost having phone sex, while talking about a bestial murderer!

She couldn’t help but laugh. Half joking, she said, “Maybe I should drive down to Copenhagen and visit my good friend Tom?”

“Do that. I promise to take good care of you.”

Before they hung up they agreed to call each other again soon.

Irene was forced to sit in the room for a while, until the pressure in her pelvis ebbed.

 

“IT SEEMS as though the first part of the address list is customers but at the end there are several pages with names and addresses of different guys. I found Anders Gunnarsson and Hans Pahliss listed there. They were listed together. Erik Bolin is also there and a lot of other names that I don’t recognize since I haven’t been involved in this investigation,” said Birgitta.

She set down a bundle of papers on Irene’s desk.

“Thanks. I’ll take them home and read them tonight. Krister is working and the girls aren’t home either. It’ll be a perfect time to sit and work,” said Irene.

But she suspected that her concentration would be disturbed by fantasies of what might have happened that night in Copenhagen.

SVANTE MALM KNOCKED ON the doorjamb before he stepped through the open door. Irene looked up from the pile of printouts from Marcus’s computer. She set down her coffee mug in order to avoid getting stains on the papers. It was the fourth mug of the morning and she was actually starting to wake up.

“Thought I would drop by and bring you up to speed. I missed morning prayers. You need to know about some developments.”

Svante sat in Irene’s visitor’s chair. He declined the offer of coffee. Irene pulled out pen and paper and got ready to take notes.

“My colleague in Copenhagen and I have been exchanging information the last couple of weeks. They have better resources than we do and they can get results a lot faster. Now we think we have enough evidence from the murderer that we can run a DNA profile. And we’ve also found fingerprints.”

“Fantastic! But what kind of evidence? And where were the fingerprints? He used gloves, it seemed.”

“For the most part. But he made a mistake here and there.”

Svante put his right hand up in the air and started counting the mistakes, at the same time he let his fingers point toward the ceiling, one after another.

“One: the semen stain found in Copenhagen under that murdered guy’s bed. Two: saliva from the stamp on the postcard you received. We also got an extra bonus there. Three: there’s a clear thumbprint in the middle of the stamp! You often push with your thumb when you attach a stamp. For some reason he wasn’t wearing gloves then. There’s always the risk that it could belong to the mailman but we’ve just found a new trump card. . . . .”

He paused for effect. Irene discovered that she had scooted forward in her seat and was leaning over the desk, as if she were hard of hearing.

“The videocassette that Hannu brought us yesterday. We could eliminate Jonny’s and Hannu’s fingerprints right away. We found Marcus’s and Emil’s prints on the cover. But there were only two prints on the video itself, Emil’s and that of an unknown. We’ve secured the unknown thumbprint. And it matches perfectly with the thumb on the stamp!”

Irene stared at Svante and exclaimed, “I’ll be damned! He’s been smart, and had incredible luck, but he hasn’t realized how dangerous a series of small mistakes are, when put together!”

“He has become too arrogant and self-confident. A bit sloppy. If you catch him, we’ll definitely be able to nail him. Even if he denies it.” Svante sounded very pleased.

“You haven’t gotten anything in on Erik Bolin yet?”

“No. Several samples will come from the autopsy today. Stridner’s assistant called. That young girl, what’s her name? Britt! Britt Nilsson called from Pathology and said that they had found a skin scraping under Bolin’s nails. Apparently the body also has injuries that are indicative of a serious struggle.”

Something clicked, but when Irene couldn’t grasp it, she tossed it off as her imagination, and asked instead, “So Erik Bolin fought with his killer?”

“The evidence points to it. But you’ll get a preliminary report today.”

“Probably.”

“The bloodstains on the police uniform in Copenhagen are from Marcus Tosscander but those on the baton turned out to be significantly older. They came from a prostitute who was killed two years ago.”

“Carmen Østergaard! You mean that her blood was still on the baton after two years?”

“Apparently. There were traces of blood in the hole for the leather strap and on the leather itself. Most of the blood had been wiped or rinsed off, but there was still enough for a positive test. According to our colleagues in Copenhagen, it can’t have been used after the murder.”

“Wasn’t there a baton with the other uniform?”

“No.”

“And no signs of bloodstains on that uniform?”

“No.”

“Were the bloodstains on the real uniform or on the one Emil bought in the gay shop?”

“On the one he bought in the shop.”

So Emil hadn’t dared to use his mother’s uniform during the dismemberment itself, maybe out of fear that she might sometime ask to have it back. A thought struck Irene.

“Wasn’t there any of Carmen’s blood on the uniform?”

“No. Though it had never been washed.”

Irene thought. “On the video, Emil was wearing a uniform when he dismembered Carmen. That must mean that he had still another uniform at that time,” she said.

“Very possible.”

Svante was already on his way into the corridor when Irene heard his farewell. “Good-bye. We’ll be in touch when we know more about Bolin.”

Irene brooded for a long time about the mystery of the absence of Carmen’s blood from the uniform worn during her dismemberment. That
must
mean Emil had had a third uniform. Where was it now? Maybe he had burned it afterward if it was very bloody? And bought a new one for the dismembering of Marcus?

Irene trembled. That meant that Marcus’s murder had been planned long in advance. Which must mean that Carmen’s murder had also been planned. Were the strange assaults on the two prostitutes in Copenhagen shortly before Carmen was murdered the first clumsy attempts at trying to secure a mutilation victim? Third time was the charm, in that case.

The description the police had of “the policeman” matched Emil, and the description of “the doctor” matched Basta. And what was it that had clicked when Svante Malm started talking about Stridner? Something that Stridner had said? Something that her assistant had said? Irene had only met Britt Nilsson a few times and that had been a while ago. No, it was useless. To her irritation, she was forced to give up. But something had definitely registered.