Dark Angel (Anders Knutas 6)

rolled down the window.
    ‘Beautiful day,’ he said, casting an enquiring glance at Karin.
    ‘It really is.’
    ‘So how are things going?’
    ‘Fine, thanks.’
    She looked at him and smiled. She had a relatively large mouth for such a narrow face. The big gap between her front teeth was particularly endearing.
    ‘We haven’t had much time to talk lately.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You’ve seemed a bit down.’
    ‘You think so?’
    Karin’s face seemed to close up. It was obvious that she didn’t want to discuss the topic. They continued driving south in silence.
    Knutas looked out of the window again, wondering what could be weighing on her. He’d worked with Karin Jacobsson for more than fifteen years and she was his closest confidante. At least from his point of view. He told her everything, including any problems he experienced with his family. She was a good listener, always willing to offer encouragement and advice. But when it came to Karin’s own personal life, that was a whole different story. As soon as the conversation turned to her, she became guarded and silent.
    A year ago Knutas had promoted Jacobsson to Deputy Detective Superintendent and second in command, which had stirred up some bad feelings at the station, even though most people were positive about her new role. Malicious comments were heard from a handful of older male officers who didn’t like being passed over for a much younger colleague who also happened to be a woman. Jacobsson’s petite stature hadn’t made it any easier for her to win their respect. The fact that she didn’t live according to the expected norms had also given rise to speculations. Although she was forty years old, she still lived alone with her cockatoo named Vincent. She devoted most of her free time to football, both as a coach and as a player in the women’s league.
    ‘Have you heard anything more about Kihlgård?’ Knutas asked, mostly just for something to say.
    ‘Yes. He was in Karolinska Hospital for a week, and they did a lot of tests , but he’s home now. The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with him.’
    ‘I didn’t even know that he was in hospital. What sort of symptoms does he have?’
    ‘He just generally doesn’t feel good. He’s suffering from nausea and dizziness.’
    ‘How long will it take to get the results of the tests back?’
    ‘A week or two.’
    ‘We should send him flowers.’
    ‘That’s a good idea.’
    He glanced at Karin. She looked more tired than usual.
    ‘You know that you can talk to me if there’s something bothering you,’ he said. ‘I’m always willing to listen.’
    ‘Thanks, Anders. I know that. Maybe we could talk some other time. Not now.’
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘I’m sure.’
    Knutas changed the subject in order to break the oppressive mood that had settled over them.
    ‘What do you think about the case? Any ideas about a motive?’
    ‘It’s impossible to say. There are several likely motives, but I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Algård was murdered just a couple of weeks after Alexander Almlöv was assaulted. Especially considering all the criticisms that have been hurled at Algård lately.’
    ‘Who do you think is a likely candidate?’
    ‘Either someone who is close to Alexander, or someone connected to the bouncers, who both happen to be involved in criminal activities. Or maybe some fanatic who’s tired of all the youth violence and wants to take matters into his own hands. There are all sorts of variations to consider. Nine times out of ten the perp is a member of the immediate family. So it could also be someone like that.’
    ‘Maybe it’s no coincidence either that Algård was in the process of getting a divorce.’
    ‘Sure. And it’s a strange thing about this mistress of his,’ said Jacobsson pensively. ‘We need to find out who she is. And does Mrs Algård know that her husband was playing around on the side? Maybe not, if the love affair is relatively recent, but somebody in their circle of friends must know something. Do you think the mistress was at the party?’
    ‘Maybe. We’ll have to wait and see what the interviews can tell us. She may have been out of town. Maybe she doesn’t even know about the murder yet.’

WHEN JACOBSSON AND Knutas reached the Hamra Inn, they pulled over and stopped in the deserted car park. The inn was incredibly popular in the summertime, but now it looked practically abandoned. Several signs indicated that the Coconut Bar