A Nearly Normal Family(25)

I felt ill. Horrible images flashed through my mind.

Blomberg hardly raised a single objection when he took the floor, and with that the judge stated that the court would deliberate. This time, the security personnel followed Stella straight down to the underworld. There was a passage that led from the courtroom down to the basement of the jail, and the door closed behind them without a backwards glance from Stella.

“Why doesn’t she say something?” I said to Ulrika. “Why…? Why is she just letting them do this?”

It almost appeared that Stella was buying everything that was said. As if she were merely part of the act.

“There’s not much she can do,” Ulrika said. “She’s probably as shocked as we are.”

I didn’t even want to consider any other alternative.

After just ten minutes we were summoned back into the courtroom and the judge declared that the court had decided to detain Stella with probable cause on suspicion of homicide.



* * *



We headed straight for Michael Blomberg’s office on Klostergatan. The celebrity lawyer walked across the groaning hardwood floors with heavy steps and a wild expression.

“It’s scandalous how worthless this investigation is. Both Jansdotter and the police seem to have blinders on; all they can see is Stella.”

“Why didn’t you say anything in court?” I asked.

Blomberg stopped short.

“What do you mean?”

He turned to Ulrika, as if she were the one with opinions, not me.

“Why are you just accepting this?” I said. “Shouldn’t you be protesting? She has an alibi! Why didn’t you say anything about her alibi?”

Blomberg waved dismissively.

“That wouldn’t be of any use right now. There’s too much circumstantial evidence against Stella, and the ME hasn’t determined an exact time frame for the murder yet.”

“But the witness,” I said. “My Sennevall. She heard fighting outside her window around one o’clock.”

Blomberg looked at Ulrika.

“Well, that’s true,” my wife said. “What have you learned about this Sennevall woman, Michael?”

Blomberg sank down at his desk.

“She might not be the most competent witness. My Sennevall lives her life in a window. Literally. She only goes out to buy groceries or see her therapist; otherwise she sits there spying on her neighbors. She’s totally in the know about what goes on in the neighborhood.”

“That sounds like a really good witness,” I said.

“Not really—this girl is the very definition of mental illness. She has every phobia and neurosis you’ve ever heard of.”

I could just about have predicted as much.

“But that doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Both Blomberg and Ulrika squirmed.

“You might not think so,” said Blomberg.

“What about Olsen’s ex-girlfriend?” Ulrika asked. “Have you dug up anything more on her?”

Dug up? I didn’t like the sound of that. I associated it with gossip and slander, bad journalism in celebrity magazines. As if we wanted to find a scapegoat at any cost.

“I think we should put all our money on the ex-girlfriend,” said Blomberg. “Linda Lokind.”

“Is that her name?”

Blomberg snapped up a piece of paper from his desk to check.

“Yes. Linda Lokind, of Tullgatan 10.”

“Have you spoken with her?” Ulrika wondered.

“She’s not exactly a chatterbox. She says she’s already told the police and the prosecutor everything, but no one believes her. I’ve tried to get a copy of that statement, but it seems to be stamped confidential. But I’m sure we’ll sort that out. We’ll have to go through the court instead.”

“How long is that going to take?” I asked.

Blomberg clicked his pen.

“Calm down now,” Ulrika said, patting my arm.

“Calm down? What do you mean, calm down? If this Lokind has a motive, it ought to be in everyone’s best interest to interrogate her! Aren’t the police supposed to work ‘broadly and objectively’?”

“The police have interrogated her,” Blomberg said, tossing his pen on the desk. “For information.”

“Evidently that’s not enough,” I said. “And when can we see Stella? We need to talk to our daughter!”

I was halfway out of my chair.

“Stella is on full restrictions,” Blomberg said. “She’s only allowed to speak to me.”

“She’s only eighteen,” I said.

“Unfortunately, age doesn’t matter,” Blomberg replied.

“She’s a child!”

I didn’t mean to shout. It just happened. I could feel my pulse in my fists and Ulrika took a firm grasp on my wrist.

“Not according to the law,” Blomberg said cautiously.

“I don’t care about the law. I want to see my daughter!”

My ears were ringing. Even the bearlike Blomberg looked a bit frightened as I yanked myself away from Ulrika’s clutches and flew out of my chair.

“Make sure that Stella tells the police everything. No more secrets or nasty surprises. Innocent people don’t lie.”