“Take it easy,” he said. “We just concluded the interrogation and this nightmare will be over soon. The police have come to an extremely hasty conclusion.”
Ulrika sighed heavily.
“Stella was identified by a young woman,” Blomberg said.
“Identified?”
“Perhaps you heard that a body was found on a playground over by Pilegatan?”
“And Stella was supposedly there? On Pilegatan?” I said. “There must be some mistake.”
“That’s exactly what it is. But this girl lives in the same building as the man who was murdered and claims to have seen Stella there last night. She thinks she recognizes Stella from H&M. That seems to be all the investigators have.”
“That’s ridiculous. Can she really be in custody on such flimsy grounds?”
I thought back to the night before and tried to remember the details. How I had lain awake, unable to sleep, waiting for her; how Stella finally came home and showered before slipping into her room.
“Is she detained?” Ulrika asked.
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
“The police have the right to take someone into custody, but in order to keep them there a prosecutor must order detention,” Blomberg said. “The lead interrogator just has to brief the prosecutor on duty and then Stella will be released. I assure you. This is all a mistake.”
He sounded far too confident, just as I remembered him, and that worried me. Anyone so free of doubt is certain to lack attention to detail and engagement as well.
“But why such a rush to bring her in?” I asked. “If they don’t have anything else to go on?”
“This case is a real hot potato.” Blomberg sighed. “The police want to act quickly. The fact is, the victim isn’t just anyone.”
He turned to Ulrika and lowered his voice a notch.
“It’s Christopher Olsen. Margaretha’s son.”
Ulrika gasped.
“Mar … Margaretha’s son?”
“Who’s Margaretha?” I asked.
Ulrika didn’t even look at me.
“The dead man is named Christopher Olsen,” Blomberg said. “His mother is Margaretha Olsen, a professor of criminal law.”
A professor? I shrugged.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Margaretha is very well-known in legal circles,” Blomberg said. “Her son has also made a name for himself in a number of circles. A successful businessman, he owns real estate; he sits on lots of boards.”
“Why would that matter?” I said, my irritation mounting.
At the same time, I recalled my own words, that this sort of thing only happens to alcoholics and drug addicts. That had certainly been an assumption full of prejudice, but it was also based on empirical evidence and statistics. Sometimes you have to close your eyes to the exceptions to keep from going under.
“Maybe it shouldn’t matter,” said Blomberg. Reading between the lines, it was clear that it did matter, and that he wasn’t sure there was anything wrong with that fact.
“Margaretha Olsen’s son,” Ulrika said. “How old is … was he?”
“Thirty-two, I think. Or thirty-three. Deadly force with a bladed weapon. The police are being very tight-lipped with the details. During the interrogation, they were mostly interested in Stella’s whereabouts yesterday evening and last night.”
Yesterday evening and last night?
“When was this man murdered?” Ulrika asked.
“They’re not sure, but the witness heard arguing and shouting just after one o’clock. Were you awake when Stella got home?”
Ulrika turned to me and I nodded.
There I’d been, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. The text I’d sent, without receiving a reply. So my worry hadn’t been unfounded. I thought of how Stella had come home and clattered around in the bathroom and laundry room. What time had it been?
“There must be someone who can give her an alibi,” I said.
Both Ulrika and Blomberg looked at me.
11
Michael Blomberg offered to give us a ride home. The late-summer evening was offering up short-sleeve weather and people were strolling around the streets of Lund as if nothing had happened. Dogwalkers and party people; people on their way out or home or nowhere at all; night-shift workers and insomniacs. Everyday life wasn’t about to stop just because our lives had been knocked off balance.
As we pulled up at our house, Blomberg wondered if there was anything else he could do. He said it would be no trouble for him to stick around for a while.