The Treacherous Net Read Online Free PDF Page B

name of this cousin?”
    “No. He’s not as talkative as Calle.”
    Anna broke off for a minor coughing fit, then continued. “He’s not unpleasant, not at all, but he’s more . . . reserved. Kind of . . . distinguished.”
    They asked a few more questions, but although Anna Jonsén did her best to be helpful, it was obvious that she didn’t know much more about the old man.
    Felix started yapping again as he and his mistress showed them to the door.
    As they were on their way down in the elevator, Irene said, “That dog isn’t going to live to a ripe old age. What with the air quality around Korsvägen and the smoke in that apartment, it hasn’t got a chance!”

“Jonny and I are heading out to Torslanda,” Irene said, tugging on her jacket.
    “And I’ll write up the report on our visit to Korsvägen,” Tommy said, without even trying to hide the acidity in his tone. Irene chose to ignore it.
    “Well, the chief did say you were to take the lead on the mummy case. Bye bye!”
    With a teasing smile she slipped out of his new office. The one that was closer to the seat of power than his old office, which was now hers.
    The impressive cream-brick mansion was on a hill, with a view over the roofs of the houses below in one direction, and Torslandavägen in the other. It had huge windows, and extensive patios on three sides. Irene thought it was a real seaside villa that ought to be in solitary splendor on a peninsula somewhere, but then of course it would have cost several million kronor more.
    The garden was surrounded by a hedge in full bloom. There was a garage by the wrought-iron gate that separated the paved driveway from the street. Jonny pressed down the gold-painted handle and they made their way toward the blue front door, which had a round porthole window at eye level. The owners were obviously keen to stick to the maritime theme, even though they were several kilometers away from the sea.
    Jonny had to keep his finger on the bell for a long time before someone answered. The man who yanked open the door was Alexandra’s father, Jan Hallwiin; they had met him the previous day. He had sat in an armchair, his face rigid as Irene told him that the police had found his daughter. His wife, Marina, had sunk down on a stool in front of the open fire and wept. Irene had found it strange that the parents remained at opposite ends of the room; when people are given that kind of news, they usually gravitate toward each other, hugging and trying to offer consolation. Jan Hallwiin had made no attempt to approach his wife. But shock can make people behave irrationally; Irene had seen many examples over the years.
    “What the hell is the matter with you!” Jan Hallwiin roared at Jonny. He stood in the doorway swaying slightly. Even from several meters away, Irene could smell the alcohol fumes.
    “We’d arranged to meet at three o’clock,” Jonny said calmly.
    Jan Hallwiin didn’t reply but merely glared at them with bloodshot eyes.
    “May we come in?” Irene asked.
    Before he had time to say anything, she and Jonny pushed past him into the hallway. They kept their jackets on, in spite of the fact that it was a warm day. Jonny turned to the man who was still holding on to the open door; he probably needed some help to stay upright.
    “Is your wife home?”
    Hallwiin merely pointed upward without speaking. Irene exchanged a glance with Jonny and set off up the stairs. She could hear muffled sobbing; she followed the sound and pushed open a door that was slightly ajar.
    It was obviously Alexandra’s room. Her mother was sitting on the bed, her head buried in the pillow. Perhaps she was trying to suppress the sound of her weeping, or perhaps she just wanted to cling to the lingering smell of her daughter.
    Irene went over and placed a hand on her shoulder. Marina Hallwiin gave a start.
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Irene said gently.
    “No, it’s . . . I . . .” Marina mumbled.
    Her eyes