“But the method hardly suggests a mafia hit,” Ulrika said.
“Who said anything about the mafia? I’m talking about Polish pizza bakers. But it gets even better.”
I disliked the whole concept. In my world, the police were the ones who handled homicide investigations, not lawyers. What’s more, it didn’t feel at all right to cast suspicion on the victim like this.
“Just six months ago, charges were filed against Christopher Olsen for repeated instances of assault and rape. A preliminary investigation was opened, but after a few months the prosecutor decided to close it due to lack of evidence.” Blomberg paused for effect and eyed us. “The accuser was Olsen’s ex-girlfriend. According to her, Christopher Olsen was a violent tyrant who ruined her life.”
I could see the change in Ulrika as everything brightened.
“She never obtained redress?”
“No,” Blomberg said.
“She may be out for revenge.”
Blomberg nodded.
Ulrika turned to me.
“Do you understand what this means?”
* * *
Blomberg’s plan was to present an alternative perpetrator in order to create reasonable doubt about whether Stella was guilty. The Polish pizza bakers were one option, but Christopher Olsen’s ex-girlfriend seemed to be much more relevant.
“But she might not have anything to do with this,” I said to Ulrika as we sat on the sofa that night, unable to sleep. “Wouldn’t it be better to leave this sort of thing to the police?”
She looked at me like I was nothing but a dumb pastor.
“This is the kind of thing lawyers do.”
“But isn’t it enough to prove that Stella is innocent? What if a different innocent person ends up in a fix? She’s been assaulted and raped, and now—”
Ulrika stood up.
“This is Stella we’re talking about. Our daughter is locked up in a jail cell!”
She was right, of course. Nothing was more important than getting Stella out as soon as possible. I drank the rest of my whiskey and walked over to the woodstove. When I opened its glass door, the heat flew up into my face and I had to wait a moment before jabbing the poker into the ash, sending it whirling. Curls of smoke swirled up around my head.
“Do you love me?” I asked without looking at Ulrika.
“Why, honey, of course I do.” She reached for me and touched the back of my neck. “You and Stella, I love you both above everything else.”
“I love you too.”
“This is a nightmare,” she said. “I’ve never felt so powerless.”
I sat down and put my arm around her.
“Whatever happens, we have to stick together.”
We kissed.
“What if she…，” I said against Ulrika’s cheek. “Do you think she might…”
Ulrika recoiled.
“Don’t think like that!”
“I know. But … her blouse.”
I had to know what had happened to it. Ulrika must have taken the top. And if so, she would definitely have noticed the stains; they were impossible to miss.
“What do you mean?” she said.
“The stains on her blouse,” I said.
“What stains?”
She looked at me as if I were delirious.
Hadn’t she moved the blouse? If not, the police must have found it. My heart was pounding as Ulrika placed her hand on my arm.
“We know Stella was home when that man died.”
And she left it at that.
18
I didn’t get a wink of sleep on Monday night. My mind went round and round. What had Stella done?
I vacuumed, scrubbed the floor, and cleaned the kitchen cabinets until I was dripping with sweat and feeling more and more bewildered. Frightened of my own thoughts. Stella, my little girl. What kind of father was I, to breathe even a whisper of doubt about her innocence? The oxygen caught in my throat like phlegm and I had to go out to the garden to fill my lungs with fresh air.
Ulrika had shut herself into her office. Several hours later I found her asleep, her head between her arms on the desk. Next to her was an empty bottle of wine and a glass that was still half full. I gently stroked her hair, inhaled the scent from her nape, and left her to sleep on.
The next morning I sank down at the kitchen table, exhausted. I began to flip through the paper and came face-to-face with a picture of the playground where Christopher Olsen had died. Had Stella been there on Friday night? Had she … Why? I shook off my thoughts and went up to see Ulrika.
“I’m going to go there. I want to see it with my own eyes.”