whoever committed the murder, was wearing gloves. Either that, or they’re not on our records.’
‘Or she didn’t touch anything,’ said Bärneflod. ‘She might have just shot them and left.’
‘You look doubtful, Tell,’ said Beckman.
‘Doubtful?’
Bärneflod banged the table. ‘It could hardly be clearer: the girl ispathologically jealous and has a history of violent behaviour. The boyfriend was playing away, that much we know. We also know from Karlberg’s witness that she was there, creeping around, behaving suspiciously. We know she got inside the building, we even have her fingerprints on the door. Besides which, she lied about going out that night.’
Tell waved vaguely in Bärneflod’s direction.
‘Yes, yes, I hear what you’re saying. But think about it this way: we’re looking for someone who has access to a weapon and is prepared and able to use it. Would Rebecca have been able to get her hands on a gun? Did she kill her lover’s mistress, then walk into the next room to kill him in cold blood?’
‘Can’t most people get hold of a gun these days?’ Beckman chipped in. ‘And it doesn’t take great marksmanship to fire a bullet into someone standing a metre away.’
‘They picked the lock without damaging the door or the lock.’ Tell chipped in. ‘Is that something someone like Rebecca would know how to do?’
‘I’ve been wondering about that,’ said Gonzales. ‘The door was locked when the bodies were found. Granberg and Andersson had to force the lock.’
‘My point exactly.’
Tell leant forward, picked up some paperclips from the middle of the table and started to straighten one out. He was desperate for a cigarette. Sometimes he wondered about his decision to give up smoking. Was it really worth it?
‘The perpetrator opened the door, went inside, shot Ann-Marie Karpov and Henrik Samuelsson dead, left the apartment, closed the door and locked it behind him or her.’
Bärneflod said in a resigned voice, ‘Let me refer you to lesson one of any criminology course you’d care to name. Motive: yes. Opportunity: yes. Evidence . . . Oh, hang on a minute. Ah, yes, her fingerprints are at the scene of the crime! A witness saw her and her curly red hair – how many girls have curly red hair? The fingerprints are enough to bring her in for questioning; we know she’s unpredictable and she could well decide to do a runner, I mean it’s just—’
‘I’m not arguing with that.’ Tell said sharply. ‘We’ll bring her in and I think you should be the one to talk to her, Beckman. I’ll ring theduty prosecutor right away. In the meantime, Gonzales will do more research into her record of threatening behaviour and violence. I want to know who she is. And what she’s capable of.’
‘I’m suspected of murder and this is a formal interrogation?’
Rebecca Nykvist’s eyes were green with pinprick pupils.
‘You’re being held as a suspect, as I explained earlier. You have the right to wait for your solicitor.’
‘So why bother asking me how I am? It’s hardly relevant, is it?’
Beckman held Rebecca’s gaze without faltering for a moment before replying: ‘I merely asked whether you’re getting any help.’
‘Help with what?’
‘With your jealousy. This isn’t the first time it’s caused you problems.’
‘No doubt you’ve got all the paperwork. You know exactly what I got in terms of punishment, care, help, whatever you want to call it. You know what I was accused of. But you don’t know what really happened, or why. That’s not on file.’
‘That’s why I’m asking you.’
‘I’ve fulfilled my part of the care plan. The episode you’re talking about was years and years ago. It has nothing to do with the tragedy that has hit me now: my partner has been murdered. My life is in tatters and I’m being accused of killing him. It’s scandalous, its absolutely insane.’
She put her hand down on the table, a couple of inches from Beckman’s
‘Or she didn’t touch anything,’ said Bärneflod. ‘She might have just shot them and left.’
‘You look doubtful, Tell,’ said Beckman.
‘Doubtful?’
Bärneflod banged the table. ‘It could hardly be clearer: the girl ispathologically jealous and has a history of violent behaviour. The boyfriend was playing away, that much we know. We also know from Karlberg’s witness that she was there, creeping around, behaving suspiciously. We know she got inside the building, we even have her fingerprints on the door. Besides which, she lied about going out that night.’
Tell waved vaguely in Bärneflod’s direction.
‘Yes, yes, I hear what you’re saying. But think about it this way: we’re looking for someone who has access to a weapon and is prepared and able to use it. Would Rebecca have been able to get her hands on a gun? Did she kill her lover’s mistress, then walk into the next room to kill him in cold blood?’
‘Can’t most people get hold of a gun these days?’ Beckman chipped in. ‘And it doesn’t take great marksmanship to fire a bullet into someone standing a metre away.’
‘They picked the lock without damaging the door or the lock.’ Tell chipped in. ‘Is that something someone like Rebecca would know how to do?’
‘I’ve been wondering about that,’ said Gonzales. ‘The door was locked when the bodies were found. Granberg and Andersson had to force the lock.’
‘My point exactly.’
Tell leant forward, picked up some paperclips from the middle of the table and started to straighten one out. He was desperate for a cigarette. Sometimes he wondered about his decision to give up smoking. Was it really worth it?
‘The perpetrator opened the door, went inside, shot Ann-Marie Karpov and Henrik Samuelsson dead, left the apartment, closed the door and locked it behind him or her.’
Bärneflod said in a resigned voice, ‘Let me refer you to lesson one of any criminology course you’d care to name. Motive: yes. Opportunity: yes. Evidence . . . Oh, hang on a minute. Ah, yes, her fingerprints are at the scene of the crime! A witness saw her and her curly red hair – how many girls have curly red hair? The fingerprints are enough to bring her in for questioning; we know she’s unpredictable and she could well decide to do a runner, I mean it’s just—’
‘I’m not arguing with that.’ Tell said sharply. ‘We’ll bring her in and I think you should be the one to talk to her, Beckman. I’ll ring theduty prosecutor right away. In the meantime, Gonzales will do more research into her record of threatening behaviour and violence. I want to know who she is. And what she’s capable of.’
‘I’m suspected of murder and this is a formal interrogation?’
Rebecca Nykvist’s eyes were green with pinprick pupils.
‘You’re being held as a suspect, as I explained earlier. You have the right to wait for your solicitor.’
‘So why bother asking me how I am? It’s hardly relevant, is it?’
Beckman held Rebecca’s gaze without faltering for a moment before replying: ‘I merely asked whether you’re getting any help.’
‘Help with what?’
‘With your jealousy. This isn’t the first time it’s caused you problems.’
‘No doubt you’ve got all the paperwork. You know exactly what I got in terms of punishment, care, help, whatever you want to call it. You know what I was accused of. But you don’t know what really happened, or why. That’s not on file.’
‘That’s why I’m asking you.’
‘I’ve fulfilled my part of the care plan. The episode you’re talking about was years and years ago. It has nothing to do with the tragedy that has hit me now: my partner has been murdered. My life is in tatters and I’m being accused of killing him. It’s scandalous, its absolutely insane.’
She put her hand down on the table, a couple of inches from Beckman’s
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