Dark Angel (Anders Knutas 6)

descended in front of my eyes.
    Cautiously I approached. She smelled of perfume and a slightly stale, stuffy odour. Her face was wet, swollen and bright red. She looked grotesque.
    ‘Come here, my boy. Come here and comfort your mother.’ Her voice was whiny.
    I bent forward but avoided looking her in the eye. She stretched out her arms and pulled me close. As usual, I didn’t know what to say to make her stop crying. I couldn’t think of any words. She was sniffing and snuffling. Her tears ran down my shirt.
    ‘Oh, it’s all so awful. I work so hard, you know. It’s not easy being a single mother. I’m so lonely. And I have to do everything myself. I just can’t handle it any more.’
    She began sobbing loudly, howling and wailing, making no attempt to restrain herself in front of me.
    I was filled with both disgust and sympathy. I didn’t know what to feel or say.
    ‘Now, now, Mamma. You have us, you know,’ I ventured.
    ‘Yes, I know, and I’m so lucky,’ she sniffled. ‘What would I do without all of you? I’d fall apart. You’re all that I live for.’
    She didn’t notice the bruise on my forehead or the smell of rotten banana peel in my hair.
    She had enough to do just taking care of herself.

THE DEATH OF Alexander Almlöv turned the focus away from the homicide investigation on Wednesday.
    Even though Knutas wasn’t in charge of the assault case, all the journalists wanted to ask him questions, since he was head of the criminal police. The story of the close friendship that had once existed between Knutas and Alexander’s father just added to their interest. He spent the entire morning on the phone.
    At the same time, one question kept nagging at the back of his mind: Could the motive for killing Viktor Algård be found in the case involving the assault on Alexander? The interviews the police had conducted at the club had produced very little, although it was likely that there were more witnesses to the beating who hadn’t yet come forward.
    Could someone close to Alexander have exacted revenge on the club owner? Knutas had seen Algård speak to the media several times about whether he considered himself responsible for some of the out-of-control behaviour among local teenagers. Each time he had brushed aside all criticism. That sort of thing might really infuriate people. Maybe somebody had finally had enough.
    Knutas still hadn’t paid a visit to the club in person after the incident. He needed to do that soon. Possibly even this afternoon.
    He went over the latest findings with Rylander, his colleague from the NCP. The skinny detective folded his lanky body into a chair in front of Knutas’s desk, holding a thick file folder containing a stack of documents. He placed the folder on the desk.
    ‘This isn’t an easy task, let me tell you. Not with so many damn people involved.’
    ‘I know,’ said Knutas sympathetically. ‘We have two murders now, with no obvious connections, other than the fact that they were both committed brazenly in the midst of a crowd of partygoers. It’s one of the hardest things for the police to handle – having to interview people who were more or less drunk when a crime was committed.’
    ‘You’re right about that,’ Rylander agreed. ‘We just have to do the best we can. So far, the interviews that we’ve conducted haven’t brought us much further. This is the most interesting of the lot.’
    He pulled a page out of the folder.
    ‘One of Algård’s closest colleagues, the pub manager called Rolf Lewin, was also at the dedication festivities at the conference centre. He was helping out at the bar.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘Maybe that’s not so strange. Viktor usually brought in the same staff for his events. But during the interview it came out that Rolf and Viktor had had their differences. It might be worthwhile having another talk with the pub manager.’
    ‘What else do you know about him?’
    ‘A typical superannuated biker, if you want my honest and highly biased opinion. Lives alone in a two-room flat in Visby. Unmarried. No children. He’s about forty-five, with straggly hair that sticks out in all directions. Wears an earring and always has a cigarette between his lips. From the broken blood vessels on his nose I’d assume he drinks too much.’
    ‘OK, I guess I’ll go out and see him,’ Knutas muttered. ‘Anything else?’
    ‘Not much. The two bouncers don’t exactly have a spotless past, but there’s nothing to indicate that