Read Online The Fire Dance by Helene Tursten - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Helene Tursten
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“Sophie was all hyped up—clothes and all—and just glommed onto Marcelo. But what could he do? He was addicted to her.” Kia’s narrow fingers kept plucking at the lint on her blanket.
As Irene could tell from Kia’s national identification number, Kia was just twenty-six years old, but she looked much older. Her skin was pocked with acne scars and her heavily bleached hair hung in clumps. Apparently she was trying to grow dreadlocks but with limited success. The coal-black makeup she wore on her eyelids had run.
“What do you mean Marcelo was ‘addicted’ to Sophie?” Irene asked.
Kia gave Irene a look that Irene could not read. She answered shortly, “They lived together.”
“How long had they been living together?”
Kia gave a dry laugh, which crunched like leaves in the autumn sun. “Don’t know. She had a house of some kind.”
Irene had checked out the house and found it was true. Ernst Malmborg had died of cancer at seventy-three in the summer of 2002. His only child, Sophie, had inherited everything he owned, which was a substantial fortune: 400,000 Swedish kronor in the bank, a summer cottage on the ocean by Ljungskile and a large house in Änggården. For the most part, the wealth of the estate had come from Ernst’s inheritance from his first wife. He hadn’t been careless with his fortune, and had husbanded it. As soon as probate concluded, Sophie sold the summer cottage for a million Swedish kronor. She had been a wealthy young woman when she died.
Was that why she was killed? Her next of kin was her mother. Certainly Angelika Malmborg-Eriksson could use the money, but how often would a mother kill her own child for the sake of money? The reverse was more likely.
There were other indications that the motive was something completely different.
Sophie had disappeared that night from the Park Aveny Bar. The people in the elevator had seen her walk toward the stairwell. According to Angelika, Sophie had a phobia of elevators. She never took them, or even escalators for that matter. The security guard who had been posted at the stairwell actually saw her go up the stairs. The same guard had seen her on the second floor right outside the elevator doors when he did a check of the stairwell a few minutes later. She was holding her cell phone, and it looked like she was sending a text message. She seemed to be concentrating, so he continued up the stairs on his rounds without saying anything to her. He’d walked all the way to the top floor. On the way back down, he hadn’t seen Sophie. None of the otheremployees had seen her leave the building. They were totally occupied in putting the bar back in order after the rowdy night.
Thomas Magnusson, the security guard, was the last person to see Sophie alive. He was in his third year at Chalmers University, and he had the job on the side to earn some extra cash. Irene and Tommy had run his name through an electronic search, but they hadn’t found anything remarkable. Magnusson didn’t even have a parking ticket. His record was so clean that it was suspicious. He was blond and well built, and his honest blue eyes and clear, steady voice gave her no reason to be suspicious of his testimony.
Sophie Malmborg disappeared from the bar of the Park Aveny Hotel at approximately 1:40 A . M . on Friday, September 24th, 2004.
She had received a text message on her cell phone at 1:38 and sent a reply two minutes later. The sender had been in the vicinity of the hotel, but could not be identified, as a prepaid phone card had been used. That text message was the last sign of life from Sophie.
She had disappeared without a trace for three weeks.
On Saturday, October 16th, a storage shed in the industrial area of Högsbo had burned to the ground, and a charred corpse was found in the rubble. Another few days passed before the body was positively identified as Sophie Malmborg.
Irene had not yet gone to the site of the fire. She’d only seen the pictures.
As Irene could tell from Kia’s national identification number, Kia was just twenty-six years old, but she looked much older. Her skin was pocked with acne scars and her heavily bleached hair hung in clumps. Apparently she was trying to grow dreadlocks but with limited success. The coal-black makeup she wore on her eyelids had run.
“What do you mean Marcelo was ‘addicted’ to Sophie?” Irene asked.
Kia gave Irene a look that Irene could not read. She answered shortly, “They lived together.”
“How long had they been living together?”
Kia gave a dry laugh, which crunched like leaves in the autumn sun. “Don’t know. She had a house of some kind.”
Irene had checked out the house and found it was true. Ernst Malmborg had died of cancer at seventy-three in the summer of 2002. His only child, Sophie, had inherited everything he owned, which was a substantial fortune: 400,000 Swedish kronor in the bank, a summer cottage on the ocean by Ljungskile and a large house in Änggården. For the most part, the wealth of the estate had come from Ernst’s inheritance from his first wife. He hadn’t been careless with his fortune, and had husbanded it. As soon as probate concluded, Sophie sold the summer cottage for a million Swedish kronor. She had been a wealthy young woman when she died.
Was that why she was killed? Her next of kin was her mother. Certainly Angelika Malmborg-Eriksson could use the money, but how often would a mother kill her own child for the sake of money? The reverse was more likely.
There were other indications that the motive was something completely different.
Sophie had disappeared that night from the Park Aveny Bar. The people in the elevator had seen her walk toward the stairwell. According to Angelika, Sophie had a phobia of elevators. She never took them, or even escalators for that matter. The security guard who had been posted at the stairwell actually saw her go up the stairs. The same guard had seen her on the second floor right outside the elevator doors when he did a check of the stairwell a few minutes later. She was holding her cell phone, and it looked like she was sending a text message. She seemed to be concentrating, so he continued up the stairs on his rounds without saying anything to her. He’d walked all the way to the top floor. On the way back down, he hadn’t seen Sophie. None of the otheremployees had seen her leave the building. They were totally occupied in putting the bar back in order after the rowdy night.
Thomas Magnusson, the security guard, was the last person to see Sophie alive. He was in his third year at Chalmers University, and he had the job on the side to earn some extra cash. Irene and Tommy had run his name through an electronic search, but they hadn’t found anything remarkable. Magnusson didn’t even have a parking ticket. His record was so clean that it was suspicious. He was blond and well built, and his honest blue eyes and clear, steady voice gave her no reason to be suspicious of his testimony.
Sophie Malmborg disappeared from the bar of the Park Aveny Hotel at approximately 1:40 A . M . on Friday, September 24th, 2004.
She had received a text message on her cell phone at 1:38 and sent a reply two minutes later. The sender had been in the vicinity of the hotel, but could not be identified, as a prepaid phone card had been used. That text message was the last sign of life from Sophie.
She had disappeared without a trace for three weeks.
On Saturday, October 16th, a storage shed in the industrial area of Högsbo had burned to the ground, and a charred corpse was found in the rubble. Another few days passed before the body was positively identified as Sophie Malmborg.
Irene had not yet gone to the site of the fire. She’d only seen the pictures.
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