The Killer's Art Read Online Free PDF Page A

never seemed to get used to the sight of corpses; but then neither did he.
    A crowd of neighbours had gathered, and they were all looking up in horror at the body that hung in the gateway with its back to them. None of them would have believed that something as gruesome as a murder would ever take place on their peaceful street.
    Dalman Gate was part of the ring wall in the middle of NorraMurgatan, a long and narrow cobblestoned street that ran parallel to the wall’s eastern side. Low, picturesque houses lined both sides. It was downright idyllic, with lace curtains in the windows, ceramic pots made in the typical Gotland style, and little gardens behind fences. The houses closest to the wall had been built directly attached to it.
    Jacobsson and Knutas walked past the cement sculpture in the shape of a sheep that prevented cars from driving through the gate and stepped over the blue-and-white police tape.
    Knutas stopped short at the sight of the victim.
    At first glance, it looked like a tragic suicide. The rope was attached to a strong hook that had been fastened to the portcullis above the gate. The dead man’s head was bent forward, his body was limp.
    The scene reminded Knutas of the year before, when several people had been ritually murdered and then hanged.
    ‘I feel like I’ve seen this before,’ he said to Jacobsson.
    ‘I know. The first thing I thought about was finding Martinna Flochten last summer.’ Jacobsson shook her head and stuffed her hands further into the pockets of her down jacket.
    When Knutas got close enough to see the face, he froze.
    ‘Dear Jesus, it’s Egon Wallin, the art dealer.’
    Crime-scene technician Erik Sohlman, who was in the process of photographing the body from various angles, lowered the camera and took a closer look at the man’s face.
    ‘You’re right, it’s him,’ he exclaimed. ‘My God. I was in his gallery only a week ago and bought a painting for my mother’s sixtieth birthday.’
    ‘We’ve got to get him down from there as soon as possible,’ said Knutas grimly. The body could be seen from the road, and by now people were starting to wake up.
    He nodded towards Kung Magnus Road, where several cars had already pulled over. People were getting out and pointing towards the gate. In the morning light, the macabre scene was exposed to everyone who passed.
    ‘Hurry up now,’ Knutas urged his colleagues. ‘He’s hanging there as if he’s in a display window.’
    He scanned the area. It was always hard to strike the right balance as to how much should be cordoned off, but all his years of experience as a detective had taught him that the larger the area, the better.
    The police couldn’t yet rule out suicide, but if Egon Wallin had been murdered, which is what Knutas believed, then they would need to secure all conceivable evidence. He made a quick decision that they would need to isolate the entire green area, from Österport to Norderport. There were footprints everywhere, clearly visible in the snow, and some of them might belong to the killer.
    Knutas studied the portcullis where the rope of the noose had been fastened. It seemed impossible for Egon Wallin to have managed the whole thing on his own. There was absolutely nothing to climb on. The noose was so high up that Knutas realized he would be forced to call in the fire department to get the body down.
    He pulled out his mobile and rang Forensic Medicine in Solna. A medical examiner would fly over from the mainland in a police helicopter as soon as possible.
    From experience Knutas knew that the ME would prefer them to leave the body untouched until he did his first examination, but in this case that wouldn’t be possible. The dead man was hanging there as if he were the victim of a public execution. If it turned out to be a homicide, the media frenzy would descend upon them before they knew it.
    Knutas had no sooner thought this than he felt the first camera flash behind him. Alarmed, he turned