Studio Sex - Studio Sex Part 45
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Studio Sex Part 45

"You'll get busted. Sooner or later."

"I'm going back tonight, then I'm done with it. I made eight thousand kronor last night. One more night and I'll be all right until I start getting my unemployment checks."

"That's what they all say."

Annika fell silent, shame burning on her face. She knew he was right. She stared at her hands. "I've done enough talking now. Now I want to listen."

The police captain got up and returned with a cheese roll. "This is absolutely off the record. If you ever write a word about it, I'll roast you slowly over an open fire."

"Unlawful threat."

He flashed a quick smile, then turned serious again. "You're right. As far as the police are concerned, the murder of Josefin Liljeberg has been cleared up."

"Then why don't you bring him in?" Annika said, a bit too loud.

Q leaned forward across the table. "Don't you think we would if we could?" he said in a hushed voice. "Joachim has a watertight alibi. Six guys have vouched for him being at the Sturecompagniet club until five A.M. and then they all went in a limousine to another party. They all tell exactly the same story."

"But they're lying."

The police officer chewed on his dry roll. "Of course." He swallowed. "The problem is, how do we prove it? A waiter at the club has confirmed that Joachim was there, but he can't say exactly when. Neither can he say when Joachim left. The driver of the limousine confirms that he drove a bunch of drunken guys from Stureplan to Birkastan, and Joachim has the receipt. The driver can neither confirm nor deny that Joachim was there; he couldn't see the guys at the far back. At least Joachim didn't ride in the front or pay. The girl who lives in the flat at Rorstrandsgatan says that Joachim fell asleep on her couch sometime after six. She's probably telling the truth."

"Joachim was at the club just before five," Annika said agitatedly. "He was fighting with Josefin. Patricia heard them."

Q sighed. "Yes, we know that. But it's Patricia's word against the seven guys'. And if, and that's a big if- if we ever get this case to court and manage to blow these guys' stories, we'd have to prosecute them all for perjury. That's unfeasible."

They sat in silence. Annika finished the by now cold coffee, he his cheese roll.

"One of them might talk," Annika said.

"Sure," Q said. "The only problem is that most of them were too drunk to remember anything. They've been served this story as the truth and they really believe what they're saying. My guess is that only one, possibly two of the guys are actually aware they're lying. They're Joachim's best pals, and both of them suddenly have come into a lot of money, I would imagine. They'll never squeal."

Annika was tired, to the point of feeling nausated. "So what do you think really happened?" she said faintly.

"Exactly what you think. He strangled her behind that gravestone."

"And raped her?"

"No, not there, not then. We found semen inside her, and the DNA tests show that it was Joachim's. They had probably had sex a couple of hours earlier."

Annika closed her eyes and searched her memory. "But first you stated that it was a sex murder. You said there were signs of sexual violence."

The Krim captain rubbed his forehead. "They were mostly old injuries, especially in the anus. He must have raped her anally."

Annika felt like throwing up. "Oh, Christ..."

They were silent.

"That other woman who was murdered in the same park," Annika suddenly said. "Eva. That murder was never solved either, was it?"

Q sighed. "No, but it's the same thing there. We consider it cleared up. It was her ex-husband. We brought him in after a couple of years but had to release him. We never managed to nail him for it. He's dead now."

"And Joachim's going to get away scot-free?"

Q put on his jacket. "Not if your information is correct. We won't have time to organize a raid tonight, but we'll go in tomorrow. Stay well away."

He got up and stood next to her chair. "There's just the one thing we can't figure out."

"What's that?"

"How she got those injuries to her hand."

As Q left, Annika sat on her chair, her body like lead.

The hours at the club crept by. Patricia looked at Annika. "You look sick. Are you coming down with something?"

Annika wiped the cold sweat from her brow. Her hand was smeared with foundation. "I think so. I'm cold and I feel sick."

They were sitting on a wooden bench in the locker room; the blue light made the blisters on Annika's feet shine a glaring red.

"How much money have you made?" Patricia asked.

"Not enough." Annika looked down at her sky-blue bikini.

Now she really felt as if she was going to throw up. Today was Friday, and several more naked girls were prancing around the place. They would sit on the men's laps, rubbing themselves against their thighs, tempting them inside the private rooms where they would get to work with the body lotion. Generic, economy-size lotion that went a long way and was fragrance free.

"It has to be odorless, that's crucial," Patricia had explained. "They've got to go home to their wives afterward."

Annika was jittery and on edge. What if she'd misunderstood it all? She didn't dare ask Patricia any more questions about the double bookkeeping, and Patricia hadn't brought it up again. What if the police came tonight anyway? What if Joachim had already moved the books?

She brushed her hair away from her face with shaking hands.

"Would you like a sandwich, or some coffee?" Patricia asked with concern.

Annika forced a smile. "No thanks, I'll be all right."

Joachim was next door in the office. Mercifully, she'd been busy with some gamblers when he'd arrived.

How do you become like him? she wondered. What's wrong with you when you kill the one you love? How can you kill another human being and go on living as if nothing has happened?

"I've got to go back out," Patricia said. "Are you coming?"

Annika leaned forward and put new Band-Aids on her blisters.

"Sure."

The music was louder inside the strip bar. Two girls were onstage. One was wrapping herself around the pole, thrusting her hips toward the audience. The other had brought a man from the audience up onto the stage. He was smearing shaving foam all over her breasts while she arched backward, making as if she were groaning in ecstasy.

Annika followed Patricia behind the bar and poured herself a glass of Coke.

"Doesn't it get you down having to look at this all night?" Annika said into Patricia's ear.

"Put a bottle of champagne on the bald guy," one of the nudes said, and Patricia went over to the cash register.

Annika went back out to her foyer. She shuddered; it was cold out here. Sanna wasn't there. Annika sat down on a barstool she'd pulled in behind the roulette table.

"How's business?"

Joachim was standing in the office doorway, arms across his chest and a smile on his lips.

Annika immediately jumped down from the stool. "So-so. Yesterday was better."

He came up to the table, still smiling and holding her gaze with his. "I think you've got a real future here." He came up beside her behind the table.

Annika licked her lips and tried to smile. "Thanks." She batted her eyelashes.

"How did you decide to come work here?" His voice was a few degrees cooler.

Lie, she thought, but keep as close to the truth as you can.

"I need money." She looked up. "I got sacked from my old job, they thought I was a troublemaker. One of the... customers complained about me and my boss got cold feet."

Joachim laughed, then caressed her shoulder, his hand lingering just by her breast. "What was the job?"

She swallowed, fighting the instinct to recoil from his touch. "A grocery store. I worked in the deli section at Vivo on Fridhemsplan. Slicing salami all day long isn't exactly my idea of fun."

He laughed out loud and removed his hand. "I can understand why you quit. Who did you work with?"

Her heart stopped. Did he know someone there? "Why?" She smiled. "Do you have connections in the sausage business?"

He guffawed. "I think you should give the stage some thought." He moved closer to her. "You'd look fantastic in the spotlight. Have you ever wanted to be a star?"

He pushed both his hands into her hair and gave her neck a hug. To her dismay, she felt a pang of excitement in her genitals.

"A star? What, like Josefin?"

The words slipped out of her before she had time to think. He reacted as if she'd punched him, let go of her head, and took a step back.

"What the hell? What do you know about her?"

Jesus, how fucking stupid can I be? she thought, and cursed her big mouth.

"She worked here, didn't she? I heard about her," she said, unable to control her trembling voice.

Joachim backed off farther. "Why, did you know her or something?"

Annika smiled nervously. "No, not at all, I never met her. But Patricia told me she used to work here."

He went up and stood face-to-face with her. "Josefin came to a really fucking bad end," he said in a tense, deliberate voice. "We get some powerful people here, and she thought she could con some money out of them. Don't. Don't ever try to roll anyone here. Not the customers, not me."

Joachim spun round and went up the spiral staircase.

Annika was holding on to the roulette wheel, ready to faint.

Nineteen Years, Seven Months, and Fifteen Days I'm driven by my wish to understand. I realize that I'm looking for explanations and a framework where there aren't any. What do I really know about the terms of love?

He isn't really bad- only vulnerable and thin-skinned, scarred by his childhood. There is nothing to suggest his powerlessness will always find the same expression. When he becomes more mature, he'll stop hitting. My own mean doubts run stakes of shame through my abdomen; I've judged him far too rashly. I take my own development for granted, his I completely ignore.

Yet the chill has built a nest in my breast.

Because he says he will never let me go.

Saturday 8 September She felt strange using the elevator again. She remembered the last time she'd stood here, thinking she'd never be here again.

Nothing is forever, she thought. Everything goes around in circles.

The newsroom was bright, quiet, and weekend-empty, just as she preferred it. Ingvar Johansson had his back turned and was on the phone; he didn't see her.

Anders Schyman was sitting behind his desk in his fish tank.

"Come in." He indicated for her to sit down on his new burgundy leather couch. Annika pushed the door closed behind her and looked out at the newsroom behind the tired old curtains. It felt strange that everything should look exactly as it did when she'd left, as if she'd never existed.

"You're looking good."

I've heard that one before, Annika thought. "I wasn't that tired before," she said, and sat on the couch. The upholstery was hard, the leather cold.

"How was the Caucasus?"

She wasn't following and pressed her lips together.

"You were going," Schyman said.

"There were no last-minute trips left. I went to Turkey instead."

The deputy editor smiled. "Lucky for you. It looks like war down there. They seem to be mobilizing the army."

Annika nodded. "The government forces got hold of some weapons."

They sat in silence for a while.

"So what have you got cooking?" Schyman said after a while.

Annika took a deep breath. "I haven't written it. I don't have a computer. I was going to outline it to you and see what you think."

"Shoot."

Annika pulled up her photocopies from the bag. "It's about the murder of Josefin Liljeberg and the minister."