The Crow Girl Read Online Free Page A

discovered. Hurtig’s talking to Violent Crime, and, well – all the usual, really.’
    ‘Obviously it would be best, as I’m sure you realise, if we could solve this as quickly as possible. As much for you as for me.’
    Jeanette had a problem with his arrogant attitude, which she knew was entirely due to the fact that she was a woman. He had been among those who didn’t think Jeanette should have been promoted to detective superintendent. With the unofficial backing of Prosecutor von Kwist, he had suggested another name: a man, obviously.
    In spite of his explicit disapproval she had been given the job, but his unfavourable attitude towards her had tainted their relationship ever since.
    ‘Of course, we’ll do all we can. I’ll get back to you tomorrow when we know more.’
    Dennis Billing cleared his throat.
    ‘Hmm. There’s something else I’d like to talk to you about.’
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘Well, this is supposed to be confidential, but I dare say I can bend the rules slightly. I’m going to have to borrow your team.’
    ‘No, that’s not possible. This is an important murder investigation.’
    ‘Twenty-four hours, starting tomorrow evening. Then you can have them back. In spite of the situation that’s arisen, I’m afraid it can’t be avoided.’
    Jeanette was too tired to protest further.
    Dennis Billing went on. ‘Mikkelsen needs them. They’re mounting a series of raids against people suspected of child pornography offences, and he needs reinforcements. I’ve already spoken to Hurtig, Åhlund and Schwarz. They’ll do their usual work tomorrow, then join up with Mikkelsen. Just so you know.’
    There was nothing more for her to say.

Mariatorget – Sofia Zetterlund’s Office
     
    TOWARDS THE END of the blood-soaked eighteenth century, King Adolf Fredrik lent his name to the square now known as Mariatorget, on the condition that it never be used for executions. Since then no fewer than one hundred and forty-eight people have lost their lives there in circumstances more or less comparable to an execution. In that respect it hasn’t really made much difference whether the square was known as Adolf Fredriks torg or Mariatorget.
    Numerous of these one hundred and forty-eight murders occurred less than twenty metres from the building in which Sofia Zetterlund had her private psychotherapy practice, on the top floor of an old building on Sankt Paulsgatan, next to Tvålpalatset. The three residential apartments on that floor had been rebuilt as offices, and were rented out to two dentists, a plastic surgeon, a lawyer and another psychotherapist.
    The decor of the shared waiting room was cool and modern, and the interior designer had chosen to buy a couple of large paintings by Adam Diesel-Frank, in the same shade of grey as the sofa and two armchairs.
    In one corner stood a bronze sculpture by the German-born artist Nadya Ushakova, of a large vase of roses that were on the point of wilting. Around one of the stems was a small engraved plaque bearing the inscription DIE MYTHEN SIND GREIFBAR.
    At the opening ceremony people had discussed the meaning of the quote, but no one managed to come up with a plausible explanation.
    Myths are tangible.
    The pale walls, expensive carpet and exclusive works of art, taken as a whole, breathed discretion and money.
    After a series of interviews a former medical secretary, Ann-Britt Eriksson, had been employed to serve as the shared receptionist. She organised appointments and took care of certain administrative duties.
    ‘Has anything happened that I should know about?’ Sofia Zetterlund asked when she arrived that morning, on the dot of eight o’clock as usual.
    Ann-Britt looked up from the newspaper spread out in front of her.
    ‘Yes, Huddinge Hospital called, they want to bring forward your appointment with Tyra Mäkelä to eleven o’clock. I told them you’d call back to confirm.’
    ‘OK, I’ll call them at once.’ Sofia headed towards her office.