“Did you walk alone, or was somebody with you?”
“I walked by myself, to the beach and back.”
“Tell us more.”
“When I came home, I took my coat off in the hallway as I called out to Hans, because I knew that he ought to be home by then. ”
“What time was it then?”
“About half past seven.”
“Go on.”
“I didn’t get an answer so I assumed that he had been delayed at work. You see, he would always go to the office on Sundays. I went straight to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I saw the pizza box on the kitchen sideboard and realized that Hans was actually home. We usually eat pizza on Sundays. Hans picks it up on his way home. Yes, well... I called out again, but still got no answer. So I went to check if he was in the living room and what he was doing and... I saw him just lying there on the floor. In shock, I called the police.”
“When did you phone?”
“Straightaway...when I found him.”
“What did you do then, after you phoned the police?”
“I went upstairs. The woman on the phone said I should do that. That I mustn’t touch him, so I went upstairs.”
Henrik looked at the woman in front of him. She looked nervous, with a shifting gaze. She fingered the cloth of her light gray pants anxiously.
“I’ve asked you before, but I must ask again. Did you see anybody in the house?”
“No.”
“Nobody outside?”
“I noticed that the front window was opened, so I closed it. In case someone was still lurking about. I was frightened. But no, I’ve already told you. I saw no one.”
“No car on the street?”
“No,” Kerstin answered in a loud voice. She leaned forward and rubbed her Achilles tendon on one foot, as if she were trying to scratch an itch.
“Tell us about your husband,” said Henrik.
“Tell you what?”
“He worked as the head of asylum issues at the Migration Board here in Norrk?ping, correct?” said Henrik.
“Yes. He was good at his job.”
“Can you elaborate? What was he good at?”
“He worked with all sorts of things. In the department he was in charge...”
Kerstin became silent and lowered her head.
Henrik noted that she swallowed hard, he imagined, to prevent tears from coming.
“We can take a little break if you like,” said Henrik.
“No, it’s okay. It’s okay.”
Kerstin took a deep breath. She looked briefly at her lawyer, who was twirling his pen on the table, and then she started talking again.
“My husband was indeed the head of a department at the board. He liked his job and had worked his way up, devoted all his life to the Migration Board. He is...was the sort of person people liked. He was kind to everybody regardless of where they came from. He didn’t have any prejudices. He wanted to help people. That was why he liked it there so much.
“The Migration Board has had to put up with a lot of criticism recently,” Kerstin said, then paused before going on.
Henrik nodded. He knew the National Audit Agency had recently examined the Migration Board’s procedures for arranging accommodation for asylum seekers, and they cited it for improper practices. During the last year, the board spent fifty million kronor on buying accommodations. Of that, nine million kronor had been spent on direct agreements, which are forbidden if done without the proper procedures. The Audit Agency had also found illegal contracts with landlords. In many cases no contracts were used at all. The local papers had published several articles about the audit.
“Hans was upset over the criticism. More refugees had been applying than they had anticipated. He had to quickly arrange accommodations for them. And then it went wrong.”
Kerstin became silent. Her lip quivered.
“I felt sorry for him.”
“It sounds as if you are well aware of your husband’s work,” said Henrik.
Kerstin didn’t answer. She wiped a tear from her eye and nodded at the thought.
“There was the problem with improper behavior too,” she said.
She quickly described how there had been assaults and thefts at the asylum accommodation center. Because of the stress of their situation, often arguments broke out among the new arrivals. The staff that had been temporarily hired to run the center found it hard to keep order.
“Which we know about,” said Henrik.
“Oh yes, of course,” said Kerstin and straightened her back again.
“Many of them were in poor mental condition, and Hans tried to do everything he could to make their stay as comfortable as possible. But it was difficult. Several nights in a row somebody set off the fire alarm. People got scared and Hans had no alternative but to hire more staff to keep an eye on the center. My husband was personally very committed, I can tell you that, and he put his very soul into his work.”
Henrik leaned back and studied Kerstin. She didn’t look quite as miserable now. Something had gradually come over her, perhaps a pride in her husband’s work—perhaps a sort of relief.
“Hans spent a lot of time at the office. There were late evenings, and every Sunday he left home after lunch and didn’t come back until dinnertime. It was hard to know exactly what time he would get home, what time to have dinner ready, so he always used to buy a pizza instead. Just like yesterday. As usual.”
Kerstin Juhlén hid her face in her hands as she shook her head. The anguish and the misery of it all had immediately come back.
“You have the right to take a break,” said Peter Ramstedt as he carefully put a hand on her shoulder.
Jana studied his touch. She knew this lawyer had a reputation of being strongly attracted to women and rarely hesitated to physically console his clients. If he got the chance, he was open to do more than that.
Kerstin raised her shoulder slightly in discomfort, which evidently made the solicitor realize that he should remove his hand. Peter pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her. Kerstin gratefully accepted, and she blew her nose in it audibly.
“Sorry,” she said.
“That’s all right,” said Henrik. “So if I’ve understood you correctly, your husband had a difficult job.”
“No, I mean...yes, but I don’t know. I can’t really say exactly... I think...it would be best if you were to speak with my husband’s secretary.”
Henrik wrinkled his brow. “Why is that?”
“It would just be for the best,” she whispered.
Henrik sighed and leaned forward over the table.
“What’s his secretary’s name, then?”
“Lena Wikstr?m. She has been his assistant for almost twenty years.”
“Of course we’ll speak with her.”
Kerstin’s shoulders sank and she clasped her hands.
“May I ask,” said Henrik, “if you and your husband were close?”
“How do you mean? Of course we were close.”
“You didn’t have a disagreement about anything? Argue a lot?”
“What are you getting at, Chief Inspector?” interjected Peter, leaning across the table.
“I just want to be sure we get the full picture for this investigation,” said Henrik.
“No, we rarely argued,” Kerstin answered slowly.
“Apart from you, who else was close to him?”
“His parents have been dead a long time, unfortunately. Cancer, both of them. He didn’t have any real friends, so you could say that our social life was rather limited. But we liked it like that.”
“Sister? Brother?”
“He has a half brother who lives in Finsp?ng. But they haven’t had much contact with each other in recent years. They are very different.”
“In what way?”
“They just are.”
“What’s his name?”
“Lars Johansson. Everyone calls him Lasse.”
Mia Bolander had been sitting with her arms crossed, just listening. Now she asked straight out, “Why don’t you have children?”
Kerstin was surprised by the question and hastily pulled her legs back under her chair. So hastily that one shoe came off.
Henrik turned around and looked at Mia. He was irritated, but she was pleased that she’d asked. Kerstin bent down and groaned as she stretched to reach her shoe under the table. Then she sat up straight again and put her hands on the table, one atop the other.