Detective Inspector Huss: A Huss Investigation set in Sweden, Vol. 1 Read Online Free PDF Page B

Suddenly he’s supposed to jump up, cut his hand with the cleaver, and throw himself off the balcony! It doesn’t sound very believable. Stridner was right, it wasn’t suicide.”
    “Don’t forget that the balcony door was locked from the inside and the key was in the lock.”
    “I wonder what happened.”
    “That’s what we’re paid to find out,” said the superintendent dryly.
    He turned toward the balcony and asked in a loud voice, “Svante, is there much blood on the balcony?”
    Svante Malm stuck his freckled, horsy face through the door. “No, so far we haven’t seen any. Could be some spray, but nothing you’d notice right off.”
    “Apparently, he wasn’t killed with the cleaver on the balcony but was actually shoved over the railing. Funny he didn’t scream. Did any of the witnesses say whether he yelled before he fell to the ground?” asked Andersson.
    Irene thought of the little old lady with the dog.
    “I spoke with the closest witness, an elderly lady with a dachshund. She was quite upset that von Knecht almost landed on her dog. But she didn’t mention any scream. Surely she would have said something if he’d screamed as he fell. But she was obviously in shock. I’m interviewing her tomorrow.”
    “Okay. We’ll keep looking around.”
    Tall built-in bookshelves dominated the library. They extended from floor to ceiling and had glass doors. The sofa group stood in the middle of the area. A smaller reading group in one corner consisted of a glass table and two wing chairs, in the same leather and design as the sofa group. There were no bookshelves around the big window or by the balcony door. Modern art hung on the walls instead. Below a brilliantly colored oil painting, depicting a green monster head with yellow eyes, stood the piece by Haupt. You could hardly call it a bureau; rather, it was a secretary on tall, ornate legs. Below the writing surface were three drawers in a row, and above it an elegant rolltop. It was a disappointment. The bureau in the hall was grander. But evidently that wasn’t what determined its value, as Irene gathered from Svante Malm’s reaction. On the other side of the window hung two paintings that even the superintendent’s untrained eye could tell were Picassos. There were clear signatures on each.
    “Cubist style. I recognize it from the descriptions of paintings that were stolen from the Modern Museum in Stockholm. Nothing is where it should be. How do they expect you to see two eyes when the nose is in profile?” said Andersson.
    He eyed both paintings critically. They were considerably smaller than the monster painting, but surely much more valuable.
    “We’ll take a look around. And we won’t touch anything, and only use flashlights.”
    This last he directed at Svante, whose face was again visible in the balcony doorway.
     
    THEY WALKED toward the corridor on the upper floor where the other rooms were located. The first room proved to be the den, slightly smaller than an ordinary living room. In the beam of light they could see more bookshelves with books and binders, a small sofa group, a large desk, and a separate computer table.
    Everything looked very clean and neat. Andersson’s flashlight stopped at a framed poster over the desk. It depicted a ballerina in a calf-length tulle dress. She had assumed a pose with one leg raised at an angle in front of her, and her arms and torso stretched forward. In large type the poster announced: THE NUTCRACKER. MUSIC BY TCHAIKOVSKY AND WITH ORIGINAL CHOREOGRAPHY BY L. IVANOV.
    Surprised, Andersson said, “Did von Knecht like ballet?”
    Curious, Irene stepped forward and read in the beam of her penlight: “JOIN US IN CELEBRATING THE NUTCRACKER’S 75TH ANNIVERSARY, 1892-1967, AT THE GRAND THEATER IN GÖTEBORG. Yes indeed, obviously he was interested in ballet,” she declared.
    “We’ll do a quick search through the apartment now. The techs will have all night to secure evidence. I’ll meet with