nose.”
“Yes,” said Anna-Maria. “She’s very good.”
“It has to be blood, given the dog’s reaction,” said the technician. “Linoleum is such fantastic stuff for floors. My mother had it on her floor, and it looked good for over thirty years. It heals itself, if it’s damaged.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if it’s damaged in some way, cut or something, it pulls itself back together so that it doesn’t show. It looks as if something sharp and pointed, a weapon or a tool, went straight through and cut into the wood underneath. Then the blood ran down into the nick. The linoleum knitted itself back together, and once you’ve cleaned the floor, there’s no trace. We’ll send the blood, if that’s what it is, for analysis and then we’ll know if it’s Inna Wattrang’s.”
“I’d put money on it,” said Anna-Maria. “This is where she died.”
It was eight o’clock on Sunday evening when Anna-Maria pulled on her jacket and rang Robert to tell him she was going to call it a day. He didn’t sound tired or annoyed, just asked if she’d eaten and said there was food ready to be warmed up for her. Gustav was asleep, they’d been out playing on the sledge. Petter had been with them too, despite the fact that he usually stayed indoors. Jenny had gone to a friend’s, he said, adding quickly that she was on her way home right now before Anna-Maria had even managed to think “school tomorrow.”
Anna-Maria was almost ridiculously happy. They’d been out in the fresh air having fun. They’d been enjoying themselves. Robert was a good father. It didn’t matter at all if everyone’s clothes were lying in a heap on the hall floor and dinner had only been half cleared away. She’d tidy up after them with a cheerful heart.
“Is Marcus home?” she asked.
Marcus was their eldest son. He was in his final year at high school.
“No, I think he’s staying over at Hanna’s. How did it go?”
“Fine. Really good. It’s only twenty-four hours, and we know who she is: Inna Wattrang, a big noise in Kallis Mining. It’ll be in the papers tomorrow. We’ve found the scene of the murder, although whoever did it tried to clean up after themselves and hide any traces. Even if the national crime squad ends up taking over, nobody can say we didn’t do a good job.”
“Was she stabbed with something?”
“Well yes, but that’s not all. The killer electrocuted her as well. The technicians were there this evening and they’ve found traces of sticky tape on one of the kitchen chairs, on the arms and the legs. And the same stuff on her ankles and wrists. Somebody taped her to the kitchen chair and gave her electric shocks.”
“Shit. What with?”
“With an ordinary lamp cord, I think; they’ve opened up the end of it, split the wires, wound one round her wrist, and placed the other on her neck.”
“And then he stabbed her to death.”
“Yes.”
“What’s it all about?”
“Don’t know. It could be a madman, or a hate crime. Could be a sex game of some kind that’s gone wrong somehow, although there doesn’t seem to be any semen inside her or on her clothing. There was something white and slimy around her mouth, but it was just vomit.”
Robert made a slightly distressed noise.
“Promise you’ll never leave me,” he said. “Just imagine being in a bar looking for somebody new…and then when you get home, she wants you to electrocute her.”
“You’re better off with me, I’m happy with the missionary position.”
“Good old honest boring sex.”
Anna-Maria cooed at him.
“I like good old boring sex,” she said. “If all the children are asleep when I get home…”
“Don’t try that one with me—you’ll have something to eat, then you’ll fall asleep on the sofa in front of
Six Feet Under
. Perhaps we ought to spice things up a bit.”
“We could buy a book about the Kama Sutra.”
Robert laughed on the other end of the phone.
“Yes,” said Anna-Maria. “She’s very good.”
“It has to be blood, given the dog’s reaction,” said the technician. “Linoleum is such fantastic stuff for floors. My mother had it on her floor, and it looked good for over thirty years. It heals itself, if it’s damaged.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if it’s damaged in some way, cut or something, it pulls itself back together so that it doesn’t show. It looks as if something sharp and pointed, a weapon or a tool, went straight through and cut into the wood underneath. Then the blood ran down into the nick. The linoleum knitted itself back together, and once you’ve cleaned the floor, there’s no trace. We’ll send the blood, if that’s what it is, for analysis and then we’ll know if it’s Inna Wattrang’s.”
“I’d put money on it,” said Anna-Maria. “This is where she died.”
It was eight o’clock on Sunday evening when Anna-Maria pulled on her jacket and rang Robert to tell him she was going to call it a day. He didn’t sound tired or annoyed, just asked if she’d eaten and said there was food ready to be warmed up for her. Gustav was asleep, they’d been out playing on the sledge. Petter had been with them too, despite the fact that he usually stayed indoors. Jenny had gone to a friend’s, he said, adding quickly that she was on her way home right now before Anna-Maria had even managed to think “school tomorrow.”
Anna-Maria was almost ridiculously happy. They’d been out in the fresh air having fun. They’d been enjoying themselves. Robert was a good father. It didn’t matter at all if everyone’s clothes were lying in a heap on the hall floor and dinner had only been half cleared away. She’d tidy up after them with a cheerful heart.
“Is Marcus home?” she asked.
Marcus was their eldest son. He was in his final year at high school.
“No, I think he’s staying over at Hanna’s. How did it go?”
“Fine. Really good. It’s only twenty-four hours, and we know who she is: Inna Wattrang, a big noise in Kallis Mining. It’ll be in the papers tomorrow. We’ve found the scene of the murder, although whoever did it tried to clean up after themselves and hide any traces. Even if the national crime squad ends up taking over, nobody can say we didn’t do a good job.”
“Was she stabbed with something?”
“Well yes, but that’s not all. The killer electrocuted her as well. The technicians were there this evening and they’ve found traces of sticky tape on one of the kitchen chairs, on the arms and the legs. And the same stuff on her ankles and wrists. Somebody taped her to the kitchen chair and gave her electric shocks.”
“Shit. What with?”
“With an ordinary lamp cord, I think; they’ve opened up the end of it, split the wires, wound one round her wrist, and placed the other on her neck.”
“And then he stabbed her to death.”
“Yes.”
“What’s it all about?”
“Don’t know. It could be a madman, or a hate crime. Could be a sex game of some kind that’s gone wrong somehow, although there doesn’t seem to be any semen inside her or on her clothing. There was something white and slimy around her mouth, but it was just vomit.”
Robert made a slightly distressed noise.
“Promise you’ll never leave me,” he said. “Just imagine being in a bar looking for somebody new…and then when you get home, she wants you to electrocute her.”
“You’re better off with me, I’m happy with the missionary position.”
“Good old honest boring sex.”
Anna-Maria cooed at him.
“I like good old boring sex,” she said. “If all the children are asleep when I get home…”
“Don’t try that one with me—you’ll have something to eat, then you’ll fall asleep on the sofa in front of
Six Feet Under
. Perhaps we ought to spice things up a bit.”
“We could buy a book about the Kama Sutra.”
Robert laughed on the other end of the phone.
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