Free The Crow Girl by Erik Axl Sund Page A

important.’
    Jeanette thought about what she actually knew of her colleague, and had to concede that it wasn’t much.
    Hurtig grew up in Kvikkjokk, went to school in Jokkmokk, then high school in Boden. He spent a few years working after that – she couldn’t remember what he did – then, when Umeå University started training police officers, he was in the first group of students. After doing work experience with the police in Luleå he applied for a transfer to Stockholm. Nothing but facts, she thought, nothing more personal than the fact that he lived alone in an apartment on Södermalm. Girlfriend? Maybe.
    ‘Why’s he in the hospital in Gällivare?’ she said. ‘They still live in Kvikkjokk, don’t they?’
    He stopped eating and looked at her. ‘Do you seriously think there’s a hospital there, in a village with about fifty inhabitants?’
    ‘Is it that small? In that case I get it. So your mum had to drive your dad to the hospital in Gällivare? But that must be a hell of a way.’
    ‘It’s about two hundred kilometres to the hospital, it usually takes about four hours by car.’
    ‘Wow,’ Jeanette said, feeling embarrassed at her poor grasp of geography.
    ‘Yes, it’s not easy. Lapland’s big. Fucking big.’
    Hurtig sat in silence for a moment before going on.
    ‘Do you think it was any good?’
    ‘What do you mean?’ Jeanette gave him a quizzical look.
    ‘Dad’s thumb.’ He grinned again. ‘Do you think the cat appreciated it? There can’t be that much meat on an old Lapp bastard’s thumb. What do you think?’
    Hurtig is Sami, she thought. Something else I had no idea about. She decided to say yes next time he asked if she wanted to go for a beer. If she was going to be a good boss and not just pretend to be one, it was time she got to know her subordinates.
    Jeanette picked up her tray, stood and went to get two cups of coffee. She grabbed a few biscuits and went back. ‘Anything new about the phone call?’
    Hurtig swallowed. ‘Yes, I got a report just before I came down here.’
    ‘And?’ Jeanette sipped at the hot coffee.
    Hurtig put his knife and fork down. ‘As we suspected. The call was made from the vicinity of the DN Tower. To be more precise, from Rålambsvägen. How about you?’ Hurtig picked up a biscuit and dunked it in his coffee. ‘What have you been doing this morning?’
    ‘I had an interesting conversation with Ivo Andrić. Looks like the boy was full of chemicals.’
    ‘What?’ Hurtig looked curious.
    ‘Large amounts of anaesthetic. Injected.’ Jeanette took a deep breath. ‘Probably against his will.’
    ‘Oh, fuck.’
    That afternoon she tried to get hold of Prosecutor von Kwist, but his secretary told her that he was currently in Gothenburg to take part in a debate on television, and that he wouldn’t be back until the next day.
    Jeanette went onto the programme’s website and read that the debate was going to be about escalating levels of violence in the suburbs. Kenneth von Kwist, who advocated firm measures and longer sentencing, was expected to attack the previous minister of justice.
    On her way out Jeanette stopped off to see Hurtig, and arranged to meet him at ten o’clock at Central Station. They needed to try to talk to some of the children who hung out beneath the bridge as soon as possible.

Gamla Enskede – Kihlberg House
     
    AT HALF PAST four the traffic on St Eriksgatan was complete chaos.
    The old Audi had cost Jeanette eight hundred kronor for parts and two bottles of Jameson, but she thought it was worth every öre. The car was running like clockwork after Åhlund repaired it.
    Tourists from the country, unused to the frantic pace of the capital, were doing their best to share the limited space with the more experienced locals. It wasn’t going terribly well.
    Stockholm’s roadways had been constructed during an age when there were far fewer cars, and to be honest it was more suitable for a small town the size of Härnösand