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Marianne Svärd worked at this hospital?”
    At first it seemed that Nurse Siv would not answer, but after a moment she blew her nose with a tissue she’d been holding in her hand and said, “Just about two years.”
    “What did you think of her?”
    Nurse Siv took her time answering. “She was extremely good at her job. She was able to deal with all these new machines. I’m not, but I’m going to retire soon.”
    “How was she as a person?”
    “She was sweet and pleasant. Helpful.”
    “Did you two get to know each other well?”
    The nurse shook her head. “No, but she was easy to talk to. Just when we got on something personal, like family and such, she didn’t share anything.”
    “Was she married?”
    “No, divorced.”
    “Did she have children?”
    “No.”
    Irene couldn’t think of any more questions. The tiny gray nurse appeared to sink deeper into her poncho, her face tired and stressed. Even the chief inspector noticed this and started to feel sympathy.
    “Shall I ask someone to drive you home?” he asked in his friendliest voice.
    “No, thanks. I live just around the corner.”

Chapter 3
    I T BECAME CLEAR to Irene Huss rather quickly that none of the hospital patients could have committed any crime. All four of the female patients had been awakened by the respirator alarm. Woozy from pain and sleep medications, they’d fallen asleep again right away. Two of the women had bandaged chests. The other two had large bandages wrapped around their heads; small, see-through corrugated plastic tubes full of blood threaded through their dressings.
    The two male patients had not awakened at all that night.
    The day nurse, Ellen Karlsson, was a steady, friendly middle-aged woman. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cut into a pageboy, with bangs over her brown eyes. “How horrible. Poor little Marianne … unbelievable. Who in the world would ever want to kill her?” she exclaimed, holding back tears.
    Irene Huss was ready to cut in with a question. “That’s exactly what we’re trying to figure out. Do you have any idea who might have done it?”
    “None at all. She always seemed so pleasant, though I can’t say I knew her really well, since we’re on different shifts. I’m on days, and she worked nights. And of course we’re in different departments. Maybe you could ask Anna-Karin. She’s the ICU nurse on the day shift. They know … they knew each other a bit better.”
    The two women stood up and left the office together. Irene was struck by how quiet the hospital hallway was, unlike any hospital she’d ever been in. She asked, “Why are there so few patients here?”
    “Today most operations are done at the polyclinic. Mostly to save on expenses. This hospital is completely private, as you know. When I started working here twenty-three years ago, we had two care wards and four surgeons. In those days the wards and the ICU were always full, and we worked through the weekends as well. Nowadays the hospital is closed on the weekends, and there are just two nurses on the day shift and two at night to cover both the ward and the ICU. Even the staff in surgery and receiving is down to half the previous number.”
    “Why so many layoffs?” Irene asked, surprised.
    “To save money. We do the complicated surgeries at the beginning of the week. Wednesdays and Thursdays we just do polyclinic operations. On Fridays we run only the reception desk and follow-up visits.”
    “How many patients can you handle at a time?”
    “Twenty in the ward and two in the ICU, with ten of the beds dedicated to day patients. The ward closest to ICU is a recovery ward for the polyclinic patients.”
    “So the patients wake up there and rest a few hours before they’re sent home?”
    “Exactly.”
    “What do you do if something comes up and the patient can’t go home before the weekend?”
    “We have an agreement with one of the private hospitals downtown. Källberg Hospital. We send our patients there if we