Free The Glass Devil by Helene Tursten Page B

Web, but that it might be dangerous,” said Irene.
    “Dangerous? Well, maybe. A computer always leaves electronic traces. A few years ago, you couldn’t follow them, but now you can,” said Fredrik.
    “Is it easy?” Irene asked.
    “I don’t think so. But some specialists and hackers know how to do it.”
    They contemplated the situation. Irene said, “Strange. Only the deaconess heard the rector mention Satanists, and that only by chance. The others said that Sten Schyttelius had only spoken of the Satanists right after the fire last year, but not since.”
    “I spoke with that cantor, Eva. She described Sten Schyttelius as a man with hidden depths. When she said that, could she have meant that he was conducting a secret investigation?” Tommy speculated.
    Neither of the other two had a better guess.
    “Maybe we should go back to the rectory before we leave. The technicians are probably done now,” said Irene.
    They went out to the car.

    “I WANT to go into the library on the first floor first,” said Irene.
    They entered the large room lined with full bookshelves. The smell of dust and musty old books was intense; Fredrik sneezed. Irene stood for a moment, thinking. Finally, she was certain. Out loud, she said, “This doesn’t feel like a room someone has worked in recently. This is a museum. Sten Schyttelius used the office upstairs.”
    They went up to the second floor. Svante Malm emerged from the bedroom. “Can you wait ten minutes?” he asked.
    “No problem,” Tommy answered.
    The billiard room was untouched. Irene unconsciously bent when she passed the stuffed animal heads. She thought that they looked at her accusingly with their eyes of glass.
    Fredrik stopped at the well-filled bar cart and whistled. “Wasn’t it that guy Urban who has a drinking problem?” He grinned.
    “If that cart had belonged to Urban, the bottles would probably be bare, if what Bengt Måårdh intimated is true,” Irene replied.
    They entered the office. The desk was bare. The computer had been removed, leaving its outline in the dust on the desktop. The doors to the gun cabinet were wide open, and Irene could see that while it was now empty, there was room for six rifles.
    “Was the cabinet full?” she asked.
    “I don’t know. We’ll have to ask Svante,” said Tommy, and he left the room.
    There were some books and bibles and piles of papers called “Our Church” and “News from Kullahult’s Church Association,” paper, stamps, a hole punch and other office materials on shelves, and a box marked “Sweden’s Ecumenical Children’s Villages.” Irene started flipping through the papers but was interrupted by Tommy’s return.
    “They found five rifles and a lot of ammunition in the cabinet and took everything to the lab. The cabinet originally held six rifles, including the murder weapon. The interesting thing is that the cabinet was unlocked when the technicians found it and the key was in the lock. Just like the front door,” he said.
    “Weren’t the guns broken down?” Irene asked.
    “No. It’s not necessary if weapons are stored in an approved gun cabinet, and this one was, aside from the fact that it was left unlocked.”
    “The murderer seems to have known where all of the keys were,” Irene thought out loud.
    “Or the Schyttelius family kept their keys in places that were too obvious. Remember the key under the plant at the summer cottage,” Tommy reminded her.
    Irene nodded and continued to flip through the contents of the box that contained informational brochures about the different villages. The children were orphans and received room and board and schooling at the villages, as well as a hefty dose of old-time Swedish religious education, Irene thought, examining a picture of a group of dark-skinned children with bowed heads and folded hands in front of an altar. The young, blond pastor stood with one hand held in a gesture of blessing. His gaze was directed at a point above the