Free The Beige Man by Helene Tursten Page A

days. We’ve just located the apartment where he’s installed himself and his girls. We’re keeping it under surveillance, and we’ll try to go in tomorrow.”
    “I suppose it’s difficult to get these girls to talk,” Irene said.
    “Yes. And we always have to use interpreters. Of course the ironic thing is the only person the girl can talk to when she’s in a foreign country is her pimp. Occasionally one of her sisters in misfortune might speak the same language, but there’s no guarantee. The girls might well be from different countries, and the pimps often keep them apart so they don’t get to know each other. This means the pimp becomes the only fixed point in the girl’s existence and, as I said, the only person she can talk to.”
    “I imagine the pimps also tell them horror stories to make sure they’re scared of the police.”
    “Of course. As a rule they clam up and refuse to speak. We always have a female officer present when we question them. No male officer is ever allowed to be alone with any of the girls.”
    Irene thought hard for a moment. The case involving the dead girl in the root cellar was just beginning to take shape. “Would it be possible for us to sit in when you’re questioning Heinz Becker? It would be interesting to find out if he knows anything about our murder victim. And of course it would behelpful to speak to the girls in the apartment. They might know something.”
    “Sure. No problem,” Linda said with a smile that never really reached her eyes. Perhaps she had seen too much human misery. It struck Irene that the weary look in Linda’s eyes was pretty common among her colleagues.
    I T WAS HIGH time for lunch after the meeting with Linda Holm, although neither Irene nor Birgitta had much of an appetite.
    “How about sushi?” Irene suggested as they were riding down in the elevator.
    “Um … no,” Birgitta said, looking slightly uncomfortable.
    “You usually enjoy it.”
    Birgitta glanced at Irene, then broke into a big smile. “Pregnant women aren’t supposed to eat raw fish,” she said happily.
    It took a fraction of a second for Irene to make the connection. “Are you pregnant? I mean … congratulations!” she exclaimed in some confusion.
    “Yes, I’m pregnant again. And thank you. Although somehow I don’t think Sven will be congratulating me,” Birgitta said, pulling a face.
    No, he wouldn’t. He would be furious. On the other hand, soon it wouldn’t be his problem any longer since he was moving across to the Cold Cases team. But Birgitta knew that just as well as she did, so Irene didn’t bother pointing it out.
    Instead she asked, “When are you due?”
    “In the middle of July.”
    They reached the ground floor and walked out through the entrance hall. Outside, the snow was falling heavily, as it had done all morning. Irene stopped and turned to Birgitta.
    “July. Good thinking. You won’t be pushing a stroller in the snow,” she said, waving her hand to encompass all the snowy misery around them.

Chapter 7
    I T WAS ONLY four o’clock, but Irene was already hurrying toward the parking lot at police HQ, battling her way through a blizzard with the wind whipping her face. Her colleagues had muttered about all the work that was piling up, but Irene had stuck to her decision to leave early for once. She had accrued a lot of paid leave, and she needed some of those hours right now. She had things to do before this evening’s dinner.
    Of course it would have been better if they could have had it on Friday or Saturday, but Krister was working all weekend. Waiting until the following weekend felt like too long, so it would have to be this Thursday evening. The whole family was gathering to celebrate Katarina and Felipe’s safe return after four months in Brazil. Irene hadn’t seen them yet because they had spent the night at Felipe’s apartment, which was a small sublet on Frölunda Square. Katarina was also talking about leaving home, but