Postcard killers

Sylvia laughed.

"This might even be exciting, your theory, this line of questioning," she said, "if it wasn't so crazy and absurd."

"Do you know how I realized it?" Dessie said. "Lindsay and Jeffrey – you remember them? – the British couple you kil ed in Amsterdam. You cut off their right ears, even though van Gogh cut off his left. But in the painting, his self-portrait, the bandage is on the right-hand side, of course, because he was painting his reflection. So you chose to re-create the artworks, rather than the people themselves."

"This is obviously going nowhere," Sylvia said. "I thought you were going to ask us some questions that might help catch the kil ers."

"We are," Jacob said, turning to Malcolm. "Where have you hidden your disguise?"

Chapter 82

The siblings remained cool and control ed, but their supercilious attitude had vanished. Dessie noted how they unconsciously leaned closer to each other as the questions suddenly got tougher. They were a very tight-knit team, weren't they?

Malcolm manufactured a laugh.

"Disguise? I don't understand…"

Dessie looked at Jacob. He was clenching his teeth. He was presumably having to strain every muscle to overcome the desire to smash the kil er's head in.

"The brown wig," Jacob said. "The cap, the sunglasses, the coat you wear 110 when you go around emptying your victims' accounts. The outfit you wore when you pawned Claudia's Omega watch? And that you were wearing when you pretended to kil Nienke and Peter?"

Malcolm held his arms out, a questioning expression on his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"And the eyedrops," Jacob said. "They weren't in your hotel room. So you must have hidden them in the same place as the disguise."

Malcolm looked over at his sister.

"Do you understand what he's talking about?"

"The recording from the Grand Hotel was good," Jacob went on, "but not good enough."

He turned to Sylvia.

"It's obvious that you were kissing thin air when you pretended to kiss their cheeks, and that you were faking a conversation. And you forgot about the shadow."

Sylvia shook her head, but her smile seemed far less certain now.

"Sorry," she said, "but where are you going with this? I'm completely lost."

"I'm tel ing you about your mistakes," Jacob said. "I'm talking about the shadow, the one formed when a dead body got in the way of the daylight coming through a window."

Sylvia's eyes had narrowed and turned quite dark and smal.

"This is harassment," she said.

"The statue from Mil esgarden," Dessie said. "The one clearly visible on the floor of the corridor when you opened the door to Peter and Nienke's room.

That's the shadow he's talking about."

"We want a lawyer," Sylvia said.

Chapter 83

The pair clammed up. they refused to say another word without a lawyer present.

The interrogation was stopped. The two of them were taken back to their cel s, and Dessie and Jacob headed off to Mats Duval 's office, where the investigating team had gathered.

Sara Hoglund looked distinctly pleased.

"That business with the shadow worked very wel," she said.

"A shame we made it up," Jacob said. "Otherwise we real y would have a case. Anyway, it's a start."

"Now we just have to hope that they get tangled up in their various lies and explanations," the head of the crime unit said.

The theme music to the 4:45 Eko news bul etin came over the radio, and Mats Duval turned up the volume.

The lead story was the "questionable arrest" of the two American art students traveling through Sweden.

The newsreader's voice sounded stuffy and pompous.

"According to reports received by Dagens Eko, the suspects have solid alibis for several of the murders in Europe. Video recordings from security cameras in the Grand Hotel show that the Dutch couple were stil alive when the brother and sister left them on Wednesday afternoon…"

The air in the room had turned to ice.

Obviously, someone in, or very close to, the investigation had talked to the press.

No one looked at anyone else. They al just stared straight ahead or down at the table.

Dessie felt a sense of unease creeping up her spine.

She was the one whom these detectives would suspect of leaking information. And because it was against the law for the authorities to investigate the media's sources, no one would ask her straight out, but she knew what they were thinking. She was the journalist, the outsider, the one who was the most likely to be disloyal.

From now on, she wouldn't be welcome here, that much was clear to her.

The superintendent's face stiffened into a mask that grew more rigid the longer the broadcast went on.

The chair of the Swedish Bar Association gave a statement, seriously criticizing the fact that "the two American youngsters" hadn't been given a lawyer until late this afternoon, a whole day after they were taken into custody.

Sara Hoglund was quoted saying in an irritated voice that the investigation was proceeding – a sound bite that was probably taken from the very last minutes of the press conference, when she had already answered the same question umpteen times.

Then the Dagens Eko bul etin turned its attention to criticism of the media.

The newsreader's voice was ful of indignation as he trumpeted the next item.

"In a letter that has received harsh criticism, a newspaper reporter at Aftonposten, Dessie Larsson, attempted to buy an interview with the suspected kil ers.

"For one hundred thousand dol ars, almost a mil ion kronor, she wanted to secure an exclusive interview with the American youths. The chair of the Journalists Federation, Anita Persson, considers the development a scandal that should be investigated."

Dessie felt the floor sway beneath her. Her mouth went dry and her pulse was racing.

"Dessie Larsson has brought shame on the entire profession," Anita Persson said over the radio. "She should be expel ed from the Journalists 112 Federation right away."

The author and journalist Hugo Bergman was next to be interviewed. He added to the criticism, saying that Dessie Larsson was "a lightweight" and "a useless journalist."

Everyone in the room turned to look at Dessie.

Hugo Bergman clearly didn't like being spurned when he had paid for wine and di

Dessie stood up and went toward the door.

"I'm not even a member of the Journalists Federation," she said.

Jacob fol owed her out through the door.

Chapter 84

Dessie could see the satellite dishes on the television crews' vans, some of which had come al the way from Gotgatan. What a waste of time, money, and gas.

The media storm had settled right outside her door, blocking the whole of Urvadersgrand. She stopped, her bicycle beside her, and stared at the crowd.

Jacob caught up with her and let out a quiet whistle.

There were unfamiliar figures with huge microphones and col eagues she had met at the Association of Professional Newspapermen, photographers with long lenses, and radio reporters who looked like giant beetles with their broadcast ante

"Impressive," Jacob said drily. "You must be the hottest date in town."

"I can't go in there," she said.

"They'l go home when they get hungry," Jacob said. "Come on, let's go and get something to eat in the meantime."

They headed toward Mariatorget. The sky was ful of dark clouds; there was rain in the air.

They stopped at a steak house on Sankt Paulsgatan, where Jacob ordered barbecue ribs and Dessie corn on the cob.