{"product_id":"detective-inspector-huss-isbn-9781616951115","title":"Detective Inspector Huss","description":"One of the most prominent citizens of Göteborg, Sweden, plunges to his death off an apartment balcony, but what appears to be a “society suicide” soon reveals itself to be a carefully plotted murder. Irene Huss finds herself embroiled in a complex and high-stakes investigation. As Huss and her team begin to uncover the victim’s hidden past, they are dragged into Sweden’s seamy underworld of street gangs, struggling immigrants, and neo-Nazis in order to catch the killer.\u003cu\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eDetective Inspector Huss\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/u\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An absorbing, intelligent mystery that holds its own alongside the best feminine hardboiled novels currently being written.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Maureen Corrigan, \u003ci\u003eThe Washington Post Book World\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Add the voice of Helene Tursten to the list of mystery writers who know how to craft a truly satisfying police procedural.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Philadelphia Inquirer\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“[Tursten] imbues this novel with a cold chill of dread that can’t be attributed only to the subfreezing temperatures of Göteborg in winter.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eChicago Sun-Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An intriguing portrait of the workings of a murder squad as well as modern Swedish life.” \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePortsmouth Herald\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eHelene Tursten was a nurse and a dentist before she turned to writing. Other books in the Irene Huss series include \u003ci\u003eNight Rounds\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Torso\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Glass Devil\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Golden Calf\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eThe Beige Man\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eThe Treacherous Net\u003c\/i\u003e. She was born in Göteborg, Sweden, where she now lives with her husband and daughter.Prologue\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNOBODY SAW HIM FALL through the dense November darkness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith a dull, heavy thud he hit the rain-wet pavement. Even though\u003cbr\u003eit was still rush hour, there were few people on the street. The pedestrians\u003cbr\u003ehuddled beneath umbrellas turned inside out and scrunched their\u003cbr\u003echins into turned-up collars for a little protection from the icy, whipping\u003cbr\u003erain. Everyone who could was driving a car or jammed into the\u003cbr\u003esteaming warmth aboard a bus or streetcar.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAn elderly woman pulling a stubborn, soaking-wet dachshund on\u003cbr\u003ea leash stood closest. The howls that she and the dog uttered announced\u003cbr\u003eto those people in the vicinity that something serious had happened.\u003cbr\u003eHurrying pedestrians slowed their pace. Curiosity got the upper\u003cbr\u003ehand, and they were drawn toward the site of the accident.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA white Mercedes was carelessly parked by the curb. A man in a\u003cbr\u003elight-colored overcoat had just rushed around the car and opened the\u003cbr\u003edoor on the passenger’s side when the lady with the dachshund started\u003cbr\u003eto scream. The man turned quickly, squinted through the rain, and\u003cbr\u003ecaught sight of the heap thirty meters away. He kept his grip on the\u003cbr\u003eopen car door, slowly tilted his head back, and looked up at the top\u003cbr\u003efloor of the imposing apartment building. A faint moaning sound rose\u003cbr\u003efrom his throat, but he remained catatonically still.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWithout putting on her coat, the small woman in the passenger’s\u003cbr\u003eseat jumped nimbly out of the car and ran over to the motionless figure\u003cbr\u003eon the ground. Her slenderness was emphasized by the stylish\u003cbr\u003eChanel dress she was wearing. She had mastered to perfection the art\u003cbr\u003eof running in high heels. She elbowed her way through the crowd frenetically\u003cbr\u003eand reached the inner circle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eChapter One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTHE PATROL CAR WAS the first to arrive on the scene. The ambulance\u003cbr\u003ecame a scant five minutes later. As far as the ambulance medics\u003cbr\u003ecould tell, there wasn’t much for them to do. The two police officers\u003cbr\u003eattempted to hold back the sensation-hungry spectators who suddenly\u003cbr\u003ewere stoic enough to defy both wind and rain. One of the officers got\u003cbr\u003einto the car and called for backup.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Send the crime scene team to the corner of Aschebergsgatan and\u003cbr\u003eMolinsgatan. A guy jumped from the fifth floor. Looks like it’s that bigtime\u003cbr\u003ebusinessman, Knäck-something-or-other. His wife and son are\u003cbr\u003ehere, in shock. We need another ambulance for them. Oh, I see . . .\u003cbr\u003evon Knecht.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDE T E C T I V E SUPERINTENDENT Sven Andersson had just\u003cbr\u003ereached his old Volvo 240 and was putting his key in the lock when\u003cbr\u003ehe heard a familiar female voice shouting, “Sven, wait! Case in\u003cbr\u003eprogress!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnoyed, he turned to her and sighed. “What is it now?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe detective inspector’s voice revealed a slight hint of titillation\u003cbr\u003ewhen she said, “Richard von Knecht jumped off his balcony!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Richard von Knecht! The Richard von Knecht?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yes. It sounds unbelievable. Was there a stock market crash or\u003cbr\u003esomething?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Hop in the car. Did you get an address?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTHE RAIN was pouring down, and the superintendent had to put his\u003cbr\u003ewindshield wipers on high to be able to see out. Göteborg was really\u003cbr\u003eliving up to its nickname of “Soaking-borg.” The week before there\u003cbr\u003ehad been total winter chaos with half a meter of snow; the whole city\u003cbr\u003ehad been paralyzed for several days. The result would undoubtedly be\u003cbr\u003ea high birth rate the next August. Now it was a few degrees above freezing\u003cbr\u003ewith not a snowflake to be seen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDETECTIVE INSPECTOR HUSS 3\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDetective Inspector Irene Huss phoned her teenage daughters and\u003cbr\u003etold them that she’d be late. They were used to it by now, after her many\u003cbr\u003eyears with the Crime Police. They promised to take the dog for a walk\u003cbr\u003eand feed him, and to let their father know. Krister was no doubt used\u003cbr\u003eto it, too. As was usual, he would make a good dinner for his daughters.\u003cbr\u003eEverything had been organized to run smoothly in the family, even\u003cbr\u003ewithout her help.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe must have sighed audibly, because Superintendent Andersson\u003cbr\u003eturned to her and asked, “Is something bothering you?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No, nothing. It’s depressing weather. Depressing, with scattered suicides.\u003cbr\u003eDepressing. Depressing!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe superintendent nodded in agreement and stared gloomily at the\u003cbr\u003eblack rain being flung against the windshield by the gusty wind. He\u003cbr\u003ebroke the silence and asked, “How could Dispatch be so sure that it\u003cbr\u003ewas really Richard von Knecht who jumped?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“According to the officer on duty, the wife and son were down on\u003cbr\u003ethe street. Apparently, it was the son who called the police.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Do you know what floor he fell from?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No, but it seems it was high enough.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey sat in silence for a few minutes. At last the superintendent\u003cbr\u003ecleared his throat and asked, “Do you know anything about Richard\u003cbr\u003evon Knecht?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“What most people know. Aristocratic family, and wealthy.\u003cbr\u003eTalented businessman, stock market speculator, and one of Göteborg’s\u003cbr\u003ebiggest celebrities. According to Aftonbladet’s financial section he’s a\u003cbr\u003ebusiness genius, but my husband says he’s just had incredible luck.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Is Krister an expert on business and the stock market now, too?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No. Although he does own twenty shares of Trygg Hansa, which\u003cbr\u003ehe received as a bonus when they reorganized a few years back. He’s\u003cbr\u003estill the chef at Glady’s Corner.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“That’s supposed to be a great place. Very trendy, I hear.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You bet.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThrough the slapping of the windshield wipers they could now see\u003cbr\u003ethe flashing blue lights of the emergency vehicles. The crime team was\u003cbr\u003ethere and had blocked off a large area. The site of the body’s impact\u003cbr\u003ewas illuminated by a soft light streaming from the glass in the front\u003cbr\u003eentrance of an exclusive menswear store. The door was set into the corner\u003cbr\u003eof the building’s granite foundation. Superintendent Andersson had\u003cbr\u003ea vague memory that there had been a pharmacy on this spot when\u003cbr\u003ehe was a boy. But he wasn’t quite sure, since he had grown up in\u003cbr\u003e4 Helene Tursten\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMasthugget, the neighborhood that was torn down during “urban\u003cbr\u003erenewal” in the sixties.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAbove the door the corner extended into an oriel. There was an oriel\u003cbr\u003eon the corner of each floor, whose bay windows faced in three directions,\u003cbr\u003eexcept for the top floor, which sported a balcony crowned by a\u003cbr\u003eturreted roof. It was from there that Richard von Knecht had plunged\u003cbr\u003eto the street. Superintendent Andersson let his glance pass over the\u003cbr\u003eremains, but he quickly looked away. Inspector Huss also shuddered\u003cbr\u003ewhen she saw what von Knecht looked like. It was not a pretty way\u003cbr\u003eto die, she thought. One of the crime scene team came over to them.\u003cbr\u003e“The medical examiner will be here any minute.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Do you know which one is coming?” asked the superintendent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA shrug was the reply. With Inspector Huss in his wake, Superintendent\u003cbr\u003eAndersson walked over to the parked patrol car. He bent\u003cbr\u003edown to the officer in the driver’s seat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Hi, Superintendent Sven Andersson from Homicide.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Hans Stefansson from PO-One. So they’ve already called in you\u003cbr\u003eguys?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Yes, it’s unusually quick. We were contacted barely fifteen minutes\u003cbr\u003eafterward, which would mean that he jumped at five forty-five P.M. Is\u003cbr\u003ethat right?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No, we were the first on the scene, at five thirty-five on the dot.\u003cbr\u003eHe must have floated on down max five minutes earlier. My partner\u003cbr\u003eand I were on Korsvägen when the call came in. I would think the correct\u003cbr\u003etime of impact would be five-thirty.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTheir conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Medical\u003cbr\u003eExaminer Yvonne Stridner. She was a professor of forensic medicine\u003cbr\u003eand undeniably one of the country’s most talented pathologists. But\u003cbr\u003eSuperintendent Andersson had a hard time working with her because\u003cbr\u003eProfessor Stridner was a woman who demonstrated her expertise gladly\u003cbr\u003eand saw no reason to hide her light under a bushel. Inspector Huss herself\u003cbr\u003ehad been involved in several cases in which the hypotheses of the\u003cbr\u003epolice were turned completely upside down by Yvonne Stridner’s definite\u003cbr\u003eforensic opinions. And so far she had always been right. But that\u003cbr\u003ewasn’t it as much as the fact that she was authoritarian and pedantic\u003cbr\u003ethat made it difficult for Superintendent Andersson to accept her. Huss\u003cbr\u003ehad a strong hunch that, deep down, the superintendent did not regard\u003cbr\u003eforensic medicine as a proper job for a woman.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe white Ford Escort with MEDICAL EXAMINER painted on both front\u003cbr\u003edoors had been parked at the outer perimeter of the blocked-off area.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDETECTIVE INSPECTOR HUSS 5\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOut sailed the professor of forensic medicine. Even those who had no\u003cbr\u003eidea of her profession stood aside in deference to her commanding presence.\u003cbr\u003eHer flaming red hair was exquisitely set off by her soft mustardcolored\u003cbr\u003ewoolen coat. She strode up to the body, took off her coat, and\u003cbr\u003easked an officer to hold it. Underneath she was wearing a clean white\u003cbr\u003elab coat. She opened the little bag she was carrying, pulled on a pair\u003cbr\u003eof latex gloves, and squatted down next to von Knecht’s remains. The\u003cbr\u003ecrime scene technicians had just rigged up a floodlight, giving her a\u003cbr\u003ebetter view. She hadn’t cast a single glance around her. Professor\u003cbr\u003eStridner was wearing a pair of plastic protectors over her expensive\u003cbr\u003eleather shoes. There was a good deal of blood around the body, mixed\u003cbr\u003ewith a lot of other material and diluted with rainwater. Slushy.\u003cbr\u003eIn order to feel that she was being of some use, Inspector Huss decided\u003cbr\u003eto start questioning the police officers present. The commander of the\u003cbr\u003eunit, Håkan Lund, she knew well. Fifteen years earlier they had both\u003cbr\u003ebeen rookies in what was then the third precinct, today Polisområde\u003cbr\u003e1, Göteborg’s downtown area. Lund wasn’t much taller than she was—\u003cbr\u003efive-nine at most. But his waistline would soon be approaching his\u003cbr\u003eheight if he didn’t watch out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe crime team had received their instructions. Håkan Lund turned\u003cbr\u003eto Irene Huss and said easily, “At your service, Huss! Is Violent Crimes\u003cbr\u003ealready on site?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Hi, how are you doing? Yes, we were called in early this time. When\u003cbr\u003edid you get here?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We got the call from Dispatch just after five-thirty. We were inside\u003cbr\u003ethe station but left right away. ‘Top priority! Richard von Knecht is\u003cbr\u003elying dead at the corner of Molinsgatan and Aschebergsgatan!’”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“How did it look here?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Chaos! The vultures had gathered. We almost couldn’t get through\u003cbr\u003ethe crowd. But we pushed and shoved and got them driven back and\u003cbr\u003eset up barriers. We cordoned off a large area, as you can see. A few people\u003cbr\u003edid try to get under the crime scene tape, but I yelled right in their\u003cbr\u003efaces. Literally!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eInspector Huss could imagine the scene vividly. Quickly she went\u003cbr\u003eon to ask, “Who identified Richard von Knecht?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“His wife and son. When we got through the crowd a woman covered\u003cbr\u003ein blood was standing here wailing. Some guy was trying to prop\u003cbr\u003eher up. That was Fru von Knecht and her son. From what I understood,\u003cbr\u003ethey happened to be right here on the street when he fell,” said Lund\u003cbr\u003esympathetically.\u003cbr\u003e6 Helene Tursten\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Where are they now?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“The ambulance took them off to Sahlgren Hospital. But you won’t\u003cbr\u003ebe able to talk to her for a couple of days, and the son was chalk white\u003cbr\u003ein the face. He even threw up before they got into the ambulance.”\u003cbr\u003eLund looked serious, but suddenly brightened up and exclaimed,\u003cbr\u003e“Hey, I know someone you’ll be interested in meeting. Come on!”\u003cbr\u003eIrene followed him over toward the crime team’s van. With a histrionic\u003cbr\u003egesture he opened up one of the side doors and said, “This is Fru\u003cbr\u003eEva Karlsson. Fru Karlsson, this is Detective Inspector Irene Huss.”\u003cbr\u003eHe turned to the little old woman in the light-gray trench coat, who\u003cbr\u003enodded mutely in greeting. On her knees sat a brown dachshund. It\u003cbr\u003eclearly did not suffer from muteness. Over the dog’s frantic yapping Irene\u003cbr\u003ecould hear Lund saying, “This is the closest witness we have. She was\u003cbr\u003estanding about seven meters from the point of impact.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIrene turned to the woman. A trembling, thin white hand was held\u003cbr\u003eout toward her. Cautiously, she took the fragile, ice-cold hand in hers.\u003cbr\u003eIn a soothing tone of voice she began, “Fru Karlsson, I’d like to hear\u003cbr\u003ea little about the tragic event you were witness to this evening—”\u003cbr\u003e“Frightful! I’m almost seventy-seven years old, and this is the most\u003cbr\u003eappalling thing that has ever happened to me in my whole life! To\u003cbr\u003ewatch a human being smashed right at my feet! He almost fell right\u003cbr\u003eon top of Snoopy!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA thin white finger pointed accusingly at the remains of Richard\u003cbr\u003evon Knecht. Irene gave up at once. It would be best to drive the old\u003cbr\u003elady home and try to interview her later.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOver by the body, Stridner had begun packing up her things. With\u003cbr\u003ea practiced motion the professor tore off the rubber gloves, took off her\u003cbr\u003elab coat, and stuffed all of it into her bag. She had already removed\u003cbr\u003ethe plastic protectors from her feet. Without looking at him, Stridner\u003cbr\u003emade a queenly gesture with her arm to the young police sergeant, who\u003cbr\u003ehad been patiently holding her coat for more than a quarter of an hour.\u003cbr\u003eShe seemed only now to notice all the people standing around her. She\u003cbr\u003ecalled out, “Is there anyone from Violent Crimes here?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSuperintendent Andersson slumped, sighed, and shambled over to her.\u003cbr\u003e“All right, Andersson. Come and look. Don’t step in the blood,” said\u003cbr\u003ethe pathologist.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eInspector Huss stole after her superintendent. Stridner had taken a\u003cbr\u003epen from the outside pocket of her bag. She pulled briskly on one end\u003cbr\u003eand produced a meter-long lecture pointer. It was perfectly in character\u003cbr\u003efor Yvonne Stridner to go around with a pointer in her bag. She\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDETECTIVE INSPECTOR HUSS 7\u003cbr\u003esaid urgently, “Look there at the top of the right hand. I’ve turned his\u003cbr\u003ehand forward so that the light falls on it. Look!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe gestured with her slender pointer. The two detectives looked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRunning across the entire back of the hand was a deep groove. It wasn’t\u003cbr\u003eas incised as a knife wound, but it had clearly been caused by something\u003cbr\u003erelatively sharp.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAndersson ventured to ask, “Couldn’t he have gotten that from the\u003cbr\u003efall?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“No. Too distinct. The wound was inflicted by an instrument or\u003cbr\u003eweapon. Since I happen to know . . . knew . . . von Knecht, this death\u003cbr\u003eaffects me personally. I’m actually supposed to be teaching graduate students\u003cbr\u003eall morning tomorrow, but I’ll see to the autopsy myself. I’ll start\u003cbr\u003eby eight at the latest and will let you know after eleven.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Isn’t there a chance you could take a look at him tonight?” Superintendent\u003cbr\u003eAndersson gazed at the professor without much hope. She\u003cbr\u003efluffed her red tresses with her fingertips. Her hairdo had been thoroughly\u003cbr\u003esoaked while she was doing her preliminary investigation. “Not\u003cbr\u003enecessary, Andersson,” she replied curtly. “It’s almost certain that this\u003cbr\u003eis a homicide.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIrene Huss stared incredulously at the pathologist. Rage began to\u003cbr\u003erise inside her: being condescended to stimulates the release of adrenaline\u003cbr\u003ein most people. She interrupted the conversation acerbically.\u003cbr\u003e“Wait just a minute! What are you basing this on? And how did you\u003cbr\u003eknow von Knecht?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe pathologist gave her a surprised look, as if only now noticing\u003cbr\u003ethat another person was present. Sven Andersson muttered Irene Huss’s\u003cbr\u003ename and title in explanation. Before Professor Stridner managed to\u003cbr\u003ereply, some ambulance men came over and asked whether it was all\u003cbr\u003eright to take the body to Pathology. The ME nodded. She gestured\u003cbr\u003etoward the main entry.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We’ll wait over there so we won’t be in the way. And we can get\u003cbr\u003eout of the rain.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn a troop they walked over to the building entrance, a solid door\u003cbr\u003ewith beautiful incised glass in the top half. There was no list of names\u003cbr\u003eof the people who lived in the building, only a coded intercom system.\u003cbr\u003eYou had to know the proper code to get hold of any of the residents.\u003cbr\u003eYvonne Stridner came straight to the point.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“We weren’t close friends, von Knecht and I. He did some sailing\u003cbr\u003ewith my husband. My ex-husband, to be more precise. My present husband\u003cbr\u003edoesn’t know the von Knecht family at all.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e8 Helene Tursten\u003cbr\u003eSo the frosty medical examiner was married, and for a second time.\u003cbr\u003eIrene’s ire was replaced by astonishment.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOblivious to the inspector’s surprise, the professor continued.\u003cbr\u003e“It must be fifteen years since I last saw them. But I’m convinced\u003cbr\u003ethat Richard never ever would jump from a balcony twenty-five meters\u003cbr\u003eup! Even if he wanted to commit suicide. He was terrified of heights,\u003cbr\u003eyou see. When he was out sailing, if a sheet or shroud starting getting\u003cbr\u003etangled on the mast, he never wanted to climb up and fix it.”\u003cbr\u003e“How did your ex-husband know Richard von Knecht?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAgain it was Irene Huss who asked. Yvonne Stridner gave her a sharp\u003cbr\u003elook but nodded in comprehension of the reason the question had been\u003cbr\u003easked.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“They belonged to the same crowd during their high school days.\u003cbr\u003eThey stuck together through thick and thin over the years. Over time,\u003cbr\u003evarious girlfriends and wives joined the group. We were invited to the\u003cbr\u003espring bonfire celebration and the New Year’s party held every year.\u003cbr\u003eOtherwise we girls stayed pretty much on the sidelines. It was like a\u003cbr\u003emen’s club, or a fraternal lodge.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“How many years did you socialize with the von Knechts?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Tore and I were married barely four years. I met them probably ten\u003cbr\u003etimes. As I said, this was fifteen years ago. After our divorce I lost contact\u003cbr\u003ewith the von Knecht circle.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIrene could see that the professor was beginning to glance at her elegant\u003cbr\u003ewristwatch and knew that she had to hurry and get to the last\u003cbr\u003eimportant question. Quickly she asked, “Who was included in this men’s\u003cbr\u003eclub?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow Yvonne Stridner looked annoyed. Maybe she thought she had\u003cbr\u003ebeen too communicative.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“They were men who are quite prominent today,” she said brusquely.\u003cbr\u003eThen she thought for a moment and her expression brightened. “Let’s\u003cbr\u003edo this. I’ll make a list of all the men in the group. You’ll have it tomorrow\u003cbr\u003ewith the preliminary autopsy report.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe hurried off toward the white Ford Escort. Irene watched her go\u003cbr\u003eand said, “She’s actually quite human.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAndersson snorted. “Human, her? She’s got the emotional life of a\u003cbr\u003ebackhoe!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eInspector Huss smiled, concluding once again that the superintendent\u003cbr\u003edidn’t forgive or forget easily.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“How are we going to get into the building then? This is a real Fort\u003cbr\u003eKnox if you don’t have the code or the keys,” she noted.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDETECTIVE INSPECTOR HUSS 9\u003cbr\u003eSuperintendent Andersson didn’t seem to be listening; for a long\u003cbr\u003ewhile he stood, lost in thought. Finally he took a deep breath and said,\u003cbr\u003e“It’s going to take some time before the superintendent at headquarters\u003cbr\u003egets hold of the prosecutor and gets his permission for a search warrant.\u003cbr\u003eIn the meantime I’ll just have to stay here and wait for the warrant\u003cbr\u003eand a locksmith. HQ will also have to track down the phone number\u003cbr\u003eof someone in this building who can let us in. Maybe you could drive\u003cbr\u003eup to Sahlgren Hospital and check on how the wife and son are doing.\u003cbr\u003eMy first thought was to borrow the key from the wife so we don’t have\u003cbr\u003eto damage their lovely front door.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA weary and bitter undertone revealed that Andersson was more\u003cbr\u003eaffected by the events than he would admit.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Okay, I’ll run up to emergency. The car keys, please,” she said.\u003cbr\u003eIrene reached out her hand and took the keys, still warm from his\u003cbr\u003epocket. She walked off toward the old Volvo.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAS USUAL, finding a parking place was hopeless, even though\u003cbr\u003eevening visiting hours at the hospital were almost over. Huss showed\u003cbr\u003eher police ID to the guard and was allowed to drive in. That didn’t\u003cbr\u003ealways happen when the police showed up in plainclothes and\u003cbr\u003edidn’t have someone in the car who needed patching up.\u003cbr\u003eSince it was a normal Tuesday evening and still relatively early, it\u003cbr\u003ewas quiet in the big emergency room. Irene went up to the nurses’\u003cbr\u003ecounter and saw a blond male nurse sitting there, talking on the telephone.\u003cbr\u003eThey had met several times before in the line of duty. He waved\u003cbr\u003echeerfully in acknowledgment and signaled that he’d be off the phone\u003cbr\u003esoon.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIrene looked around. Right outside the counter was an elderly man\u003cbr\u003eon a gurney. His face was a horrible shade of gray; she could hardly see\u003cbr\u003ehis lips in that pale face. He lay there with his eyes closed and didn’t\u003cbr\u003eseem to be conscious of his surroundings. On a chair next to him sat\u003cbr\u003ea short, plump woman patting his arm unceasingly. She was sniffling\u003cbr\u003equietly but didn’t speak to him. Over by the waiting room a youth sat\u003cbr\u003ewith a wad of bloody paper towels wrapped around his hand. An older\u003cbr\u003egentleman whom Irene recognized from the “A-team” bench in\u003cbr\u003eBrunnsparken lay snoring loudly on a gurney. He didn’t seem to be in\u003cbr\u003esuch bad shape because the blood around the gash on his forehead had\u003cbr\u003ealready started to congeal. A young woman sat stiffly on her chair staring\u003cbr\u003einto space. Except for the old man’s snoring it was almost peaceful\u003cbr\u003ein the ER.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e10 Helene Tursten\u003cbr\u003eNurse Roland finished his phone call and waved Huss over from the\u003cbr\u003ecorridor with a blithe “Hi there, Irene! Long time no see! I bet I can\u003cbr\u003eguess why you’re here.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Hi! Have you seen Fru von Knecht and her son?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I sure have. The medics came in and brought me out to the ambulance.\u003cbr\u003eThey had a feeling that it was probably best to take her straight\u003cbr\u003eto Psych. And in the condition she was in, I agreed with them.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“How did the son look?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“He just sat there staring into space. Of course he’s had a great shock\u003cbr\u003etoo. Would you like a quick cup of coffee before you dash off?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eRoland gestured invitingly toward the employees’ lounge. Irene could\u003cbr\u003efeel her body longing for a cup of coffee but declined. Time was passing.\u003cbr\u003eShe started to walk toward the exit as an odd figure came through\u003cbr\u003ethe double doors. He was tall and incredibly skinny. His rat-colored\u003cbr\u003ehair was thin and straggled down the back of his leather jacket. On\u003cbr\u003ehis feet he wore a pair of indescribably dirty and ragged jogging shoes,\u003cbr\u003eand only his jeans could compete with them in filthiness. His thighlength\u003cbr\u003eleather jacket was of a sixties design and had probably been\u003cbr\u003ebought at the Salvation Army or picked out of a Dumpster after someone\u003cbr\u003ehad cleaned out an attic. But it wasn’t his slovenly clothing, which\u003cbr\u003ehad seen a few too many winters, that made Irene gape.\u003cbr\u003eHis skin was so yellow that it was almost greenish. The guy had jaundice\u003cbr\u003eof the most fulminating kind. Without a word the yellow-skinned\u003cbr\u003eman ripped off his jacket. The front of his T-shirt was drenched with\u003cbr\u003eblood. His stony pupils, surrounded by the sulfur-yellow whites of his\u003cbr\u003eeyes, stared straight at the inspector. He grabbed hold of the bottom\u003cbr\u003eof his T-shirt and pulled it up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen Irene yelled, “Roland! Hurry! Roland!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNurse Roland stuck his head out the door of the nurses’ station. After\u003cbr\u003emore than ten years on the job in the ER, he had no problem evaluating\u003cbr\u003ethe situation instantly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Damn, that’s a loop of intestine hanging out his belly!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe dashed back into the station. Irene heard him yell on the intercom,\u003cbr\u003e“. . . abdomen slashed open. He’s a walking case of HIV and\u003cbr\u003ehepatitis!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe bolted like a shot out the door. On the way he swept on a yellow\u003cbr\u003eprotective coat, plastic gloves, and a pair of safety glasses. Just as\u003cbr\u003ehe reached the stabbing victim, the man’s eyes turned upward and rolled\u003cbr\u003einto his skull as he collapsed onto the floor.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDETECTIVE INSPECTOR HUSS 11\u003cbr\u003eDown the corridor quick steps were heard approaching. The emergency\u003cbr\u003epersonnel walked as fast as they could while trying to pull on\u003cbr\u003esome protective gear.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith a careful evasive maneuver the inspector slunk out into the\u003cbr\u003eblack November damp. Now it felt good to be outside in the cold. The\u003cbr\u003ewind had let up and the rain hung like an icy fog in the air. She went\u003cbr\u003eover to her car and drove through the hospital grounds.","brand":"Soho Crime","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303980519653,"sku":"NP9781616951115","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781616951115.jpg?v=1767725042","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/detective-inspector-huss-isbn-9781616951115","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}