deck.”
“Drowned? What the hell?”
“She was drowned in seawater in that washtub and then she was put on the bed,” Joona says. “And I believe the next step was to sink the boat.”
“But—”
“Because then the seawater in her lungs would be natural if she was found in a sunken boat.”
“But the boat didn’t sink,” Erixson protests.
“That’s what made me think. Logically there is an explosive on board the boat, which for some reason or another did not go off.”
“It’s probably in the fuel tank then, or the gas cylinders for the galley,” Erixson says slowly. “Let’s clear the area and call in the bomb squad.”
13
the reconstruction
At seven that evening, five sour-faced men meet in Hall 13 at the department of forensic medicine at the Karolinska Institute. Detective Inspector Joona Linna intends to open a criminal investigation into the death of the woman found in a drifting pleasure craft in Stockholm’s archipelago. Although it’s a Saturday, he’s called his immediate superior Petter Näslund and Chief Prosecutor Jens Svanehjälm for a reconstruction. He plans to convince them that this is truly a murder investigation.
One of the lighting fixtures in the ceiling is blinking on and off and the cold light bounces off the walls of shining white tiles.
“I have to change the starter,” The Needle says softly.
“You sure do,” Frippe says.
Petter Näslund mutters something inaudible from where he’s standing, pressed against the wall. The strong angles of his wide face seem to move with the flickering light. Next to him, Jens Svanehjälm is waiting. His boyish face reveals his irritation. He appears to be weighing the risk of placing his leather briefcase on the floor or leaning against the wall in his well-tailored suit.
The strong stench of disinfectant permeates the room. Strong lamps with directable beams are mounted to the ceiling above a bench made from stainless steel, which has two faucets and a deep sink. The floor is covered with a light gray plastic mat. A zinc tub just like the one on the boat sits in the middle of the bench and is already half filled with water, but again and again, Joona Linna carries more water to it from the faucet on the wall.
“It’s not a criminal offense to be found drowned on a boat,” Svanehjälm says sarcastically.
“Exactly,” says Petter.
“This could just be an unreported drowning incident,” Svanehjälm continues.
“The seawater in her lungs is the same the boat was in,” says The Needle. “But there’s no water on her clothes or on the rest of her body.”
“That is odd,” Svanehjälm agrees.
“There must be a rational explanation,” Petter says with a wry smile.
Joona empties a last bucket of water into the tub, sets the bucket down, looks up at the other four men, and thanks them for taking the time to come.
“I know it’s the weekend and everyone wants to be home,” he begins. “Yet, I believe I’ve noticed something important.”
“Of course, we always come when you tell us that,” Svanehjälm says as he finally decides to put his leather briefcase on the floor between his feet.
“The suspect gets on the boat,” Joona begins. “He goes down the stairs to the forecabin and sees Penelope sleeping. He returns to the afterdeck and begins to fill the tub using a bucket with a long rope attached.”
“Five or six buckets at least,” says Petter.
“And only when the tub is filled does he wake Penelope. He leads her up the stairs and across the deck and then he drowns her in the tub.”
“Why? And who would do something like that?” asks Svanehjälm.
“I don’t know yet. Perhaps it was to torture her with fake drowning, waterboarding—”
“Revenge? Jealousy?”
Joona cocks his head and says thoughtfully, “This person doesn’t feel like your average killer. Perhaps the suspect wanted information from her or to force her to tell or confess to something until he finally held her
“Drowned? What the hell?”
“She was drowned in seawater in that washtub and then she was put on the bed,” Joona says. “And I believe the next step was to sink the boat.”
“But—”
“Because then the seawater in her lungs would be natural if she was found in a sunken boat.”
“But the boat didn’t sink,” Erixson protests.
“That’s what made me think. Logically there is an explosive on board the boat, which for some reason or another did not go off.”
“It’s probably in the fuel tank then, or the gas cylinders for the galley,” Erixson says slowly. “Let’s clear the area and call in the bomb squad.”
13
the reconstruction
At seven that evening, five sour-faced men meet in Hall 13 at the department of forensic medicine at the Karolinska Institute. Detective Inspector Joona Linna intends to open a criminal investigation into the death of the woman found in a drifting pleasure craft in Stockholm’s archipelago. Although it’s a Saturday, he’s called his immediate superior Petter Näslund and Chief Prosecutor Jens Svanehjälm for a reconstruction. He plans to convince them that this is truly a murder investigation.
One of the lighting fixtures in the ceiling is blinking on and off and the cold light bounces off the walls of shining white tiles.
“I have to change the starter,” The Needle says softly.
“You sure do,” Frippe says.
Petter Näslund mutters something inaudible from where he’s standing, pressed against the wall. The strong angles of his wide face seem to move with the flickering light. Next to him, Jens Svanehjälm is waiting. His boyish face reveals his irritation. He appears to be weighing the risk of placing his leather briefcase on the floor or leaning against the wall in his well-tailored suit.
The strong stench of disinfectant permeates the room. Strong lamps with directable beams are mounted to the ceiling above a bench made from stainless steel, which has two faucets and a deep sink. The floor is covered with a light gray plastic mat. A zinc tub just like the one on the boat sits in the middle of the bench and is already half filled with water, but again and again, Joona Linna carries more water to it from the faucet on the wall.
“It’s not a criminal offense to be found drowned on a boat,” Svanehjälm says sarcastically.
“Exactly,” says Petter.
“This could just be an unreported drowning incident,” Svanehjälm continues.
“The seawater in her lungs is the same the boat was in,” says The Needle. “But there’s no water on her clothes or on the rest of her body.”
“That is odd,” Svanehjälm agrees.
“There must be a rational explanation,” Petter says with a wry smile.
Joona empties a last bucket of water into the tub, sets the bucket down, looks up at the other four men, and thanks them for taking the time to come.
“I know it’s the weekend and everyone wants to be home,” he begins. “Yet, I believe I’ve noticed something important.”
“Of course, we always come when you tell us that,” Svanehjälm says as he finally decides to put his leather briefcase on the floor between his feet.
“The suspect gets on the boat,” Joona begins. “He goes down the stairs to the forecabin and sees Penelope sleeping. He returns to the afterdeck and begins to fill the tub using a bucket with a long rope attached.”
“Five or six buckets at least,” says Petter.
“And only when the tub is filled does he wake Penelope. He leads her up the stairs and across the deck and then he drowns her in the tub.”
“Why? And who would do something like that?” asks Svanehjälm.
“I don’t know yet. Perhaps it was to torture her with fake drowning, waterboarding—”
“Revenge? Jealousy?”
Joona cocks his head and says thoughtfully, “This person doesn’t feel like your average killer. Perhaps the suspect wanted information from her or to force her to tell or confess to something until he finally held her
Similar Books
