the building was a venerable old place, even though it had been remodeled. In the hall hung a bulletin board with instructions for everything from parties to fishing trips to the laundry room. From upstairs came the smell of toast, and subdued voices could be heard conversing. The room that Eva and Martina shared was on the ground floor, almost at the end of the corridor. It was long and narrow and cramped, with a window on one wall. A modest, iron-framed bunk bed stood on each side of the room, with barely enough space to walk between them. A sink with a mirror above it was fastened to one wall. Every nook and cranny was filled with clutter. A tape player stood on the wide windowsill along with bottles of hairspray, cosmetic bags, perfume, nail polish, bags of chips, and CDs. Clothing was either strewn about or hanging from the posts of the top bunks. Several books about the Viking Age signaled that archaeology students were staying in the room. Knutas gave up as soon as he stood in the doorway and saw all the mess. He let Jacobsson search the place on her own. There wasn’t enough space for both of them anyway.
He sat down outside, actually lit his pipe for a change, and made a number of phone calls to see to it that the site was secured. He spoke to Erik Sohlman, who wanted to wait to do a technical examination of Martina’s room. For the time being, they had no reason to suspect that a crime had been committed.
Meanwhile, Jacobsson did her search of the room. Eva had told her which side was Martina’s, and Jacobsson began systematically going through the girl’s belongings. Her toiletry case was there, containing her toothbrush and a pack of birth control pills, which revealed that Martina hadn’t taken any pills since Friday, July 2—which was several days ago.
If she had left voluntarily, she would have taken her toiletry case with her
, thought Jacobsson as she opened the suitcase that had been shoved under the bed. In addition to clothing it held a number of books, an unopened carton of cigarettes, and some makeup. In a slot she found a photograph of a young man with dark hair and brown eyes. Jacobsson turned it over, but there was nothing written on the back.
She slipped the picture into her pocket so she could ask Eva about it later and then looked around the cramped room. There wasn’t much else to search. Except for the bed, of course. Carefully she removed the floral-patterned cover. There was a rustling sound, and under the pillow she found a page torn out of a newspaper. She sat down on the edge of the bed and unfolded the page. It was an article from
Gotlands Allehanda
, which had done a story on the first excavation course of the summer. The article was about what the students would be doing and where they came from. A picture showed the excavation leader, Staffan Mellgren, and several of the students in action out in the field. Jacobsson studied the article with surprise. Why would Martina keep it under her pillow?
That was where someone would usually keep something that was especially precious, maybe even hiding it there.
Staffan Mellgren was smiling broadly at the camera; the others could be seen in the background. He had to be twice as old as Martina. Jacobsson knew that Mellgren was married and had children. He was well known on Gotland because of his work at the college and at the archaeological excavations. Had they been seeing each other? Was he mixed up in her disappearance?
She hurried off to find Knutas.
Johan was awakened by a bang outside the window. With great effort he got out of bed and pulled aside the curtain.
The pastry shop across the street was getting its daily delivery. The bakery truck was parked in the narrow alley, and the driver was taking out boxes, which he loaded onto a hand truck. The owner of the pastry shop then took the hand truck and with a clatter disappeared through the back door. That meant that it couldn’t be more than six in the morning. With a groan
He sat down outside, actually lit his pipe for a change, and made a number of phone calls to see to it that the site was secured. He spoke to Erik Sohlman, who wanted to wait to do a technical examination of Martina’s room. For the time being, they had no reason to suspect that a crime had been committed.
Meanwhile, Jacobsson did her search of the room. Eva had told her which side was Martina’s, and Jacobsson began systematically going through the girl’s belongings. Her toiletry case was there, containing her toothbrush and a pack of birth control pills, which revealed that Martina hadn’t taken any pills since Friday, July 2—which was several days ago.
If she had left voluntarily, she would have taken her toiletry case with her
, thought Jacobsson as she opened the suitcase that had been shoved under the bed. In addition to clothing it held a number of books, an unopened carton of cigarettes, and some makeup. In a slot she found a photograph of a young man with dark hair and brown eyes. Jacobsson turned it over, but there was nothing written on the back.
She slipped the picture into her pocket so she could ask Eva about it later and then looked around the cramped room. There wasn’t much else to search. Except for the bed, of course. Carefully she removed the floral-patterned cover. There was a rustling sound, and under the pillow she found a page torn out of a newspaper. She sat down on the edge of the bed and unfolded the page. It was an article from
Gotlands Allehanda
, which had done a story on the first excavation course of the summer. The article was about what the students would be doing and where they came from. A picture showed the excavation leader, Staffan Mellgren, and several of the students in action out in the field. Jacobsson studied the article with surprise. Why would Martina keep it under her pillow?
That was where someone would usually keep something that was especially precious, maybe even hiding it there.
Staffan Mellgren was smiling broadly at the camera; the others could be seen in the background. He had to be twice as old as Martina. Jacobsson knew that Mellgren was married and had children. He was well known on Gotland because of his work at the college and at the archaeological excavations. Had they been seeing each other? Was he mixed up in her disappearance?
She hurried off to find Knutas.
Johan was awakened by a bang outside the window. With great effort he got out of bed and pulled aside the curtain.
The pastry shop across the street was getting its daily delivery. The bakery truck was parked in the narrow alley, and the driver was taking out boxes, which he loaded onto a hand truck. The owner of the pastry shop then took the hand truck and with a clatter disappeared through the back door. That meant that it couldn’t be more than six in the morning. With a groan
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