The Little Old Lady Who Broke All the Rules (21 page)

Petra had been slumbering on the underground when she’d caught sight of the headlines about the great art theft at the National Museum. Not so many years had passed since the last robbery, and she’d wondered if the same thieves had struck again. She’d eagerly bought a paper but had been disappointed by the lack of detail given in the article. The police were keeping quiet, and at first they hadn’t even announced which paintings had been stolen.

At the time, Petra hadn’t followed the case particularly
because she and her boyfriend had had a big fight and at the same time she’d been studying intensively for exams. Even her cleaning job at the Grand Hotel had been put on the backburner because she was so busy. It wasn’t until after her exams that she finally sorted things out with her boyfriend. They had had a good talk and had decided that, after the stress of her exams, they both needed a well-deserved holiday. So they had gone off on a last-minute charter holiday to Spain. After Petra had arrived back from her holiday, well rested and with an attractive suntan, she went back to her part-time work at the Grand Hotel.

That was when she had found out that the two stolen paintings were a Monet and a Renoir. She was in the library at the Grand Hotel leafing through some old evening papers when she saw them. The pictures. She gasped. The man in the Renoir that she had seen had worn a hat and a moustache and there were extra sailing boats on the Schelde river scene in the Monet, but apart from that the paintings were very similar to the pair that she had taken down in the Princess Lilian suite. She had simply assumed that they were poor reproductions—but what if they weren’t? Yet surely it would be utterly remarkable if the crooks had left the paintings behind in a hotel room just one hundred metres from the National Museum. The works of art would almost certainly have been spirited out of the country ages ago. Nevertheless, she felt a growing concern, because when she thought about it in more detail she remembered that the paintings did have noticeably fancy frames. At the same time, that was what people did, wasn’t it? Adding a beautiful frame could make the worst reproduction look almost professional.

Petra bit her nails and couldn’t concentrate. The paintings had disappeared from the cleaning trolley, but perhaps they were still in the annex. She would have liked to ask if anyone had seen them, but she hesitated to do so. If they had been the real paintings then she could end up in trouble because she had switched them without orders from above. Paintings worth thirty million … She looked around her. There was a murmur of people at the bar, and over in the Veranda restaurant guests were eating. If she went across to the National Museum and asked to see reproductions of Renoir and Monet, she could compare them with what she remembered of the paintings in the suite. Then she smiled at her own stupidity. All she had to do was to go to the museum’s home page on the Internet. She got up and went to the computer room on the ground floor.

She quickly went to the National Museum site and clicked her way into the collections. It didn’t take long to find the two paintings. The hotel’s colour printer was right next to her and she clicked on ‘print’. Then she put the copies in her handbag and went back to the computer to delete her surfing history. With the papers in her bag, she hurried down to the annex. She simply must look for the paintings once more. They must be somewhere in the hotel because she couldn’t imagine that they had just disappeared. Unless somebody had discovered them and realized that they were not worthless reproductions but paintings worth thirty million kronor …

When Allanson walked into Diamond House with the shopping trolley, his mother, Dolores, was in her room sleeping. He waited a while out in the lounge but got tired of that and went in to wake her. His mother’s thin white hair lay unbrushed on the pillow and she seemed confused, but when she saw who had entered the room her face lit up.

‘Ah, my little boy, how nice to see you!’

‘Happy birthday! Congratulations on being one year older!’ Allanson gave her a hug.

‘Nonsense. To congratulate somebody for getting older, my word, it should be the opposite. Every time I have a birthday you should put the flag at half mast and say you are sorry.’

Allanson held out the bag with the cakes in it. ‘We’ve got something here to go with the coffee, and I brought along a surprise for you too. What do you think of this shopping trolley?’

‘To put the cakes in?’

‘No, your knitting wool and your blankets; you can keep all that in it.’

‘Yes, it’ll do nicely for that. Put it in the corner over there and we’ll go and have some coffee.’

‘I’ll just take out the newspaper first.’

‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll ask Nurse Barbara to do it later. I’ve got some coffee cups here, but can you please go and fetch the coffee?’

Allanson did as his mother asked. He always did so, and it was probably for the best. His mother sat on the sofa and indicated that he should sit in the armchair.

‘Do you remember when you were a young lad and had picked lingonberries?’

Allanson nodded. Today his mother seemed to want to talk about the time they had been in the forest and seen bear tracks. It was a long and complicated story and his mother would take a long time telling it. He put the cakes on a plate. Eating sweet cakes made his mother tired, and after a while she would fall asleep. However much he liked her, it was trying to hear the same story over and over again. He leaned back in the armchair. After an hour or so she would be sleeping happily and then he could go off and join Janson.

The construction workers had gone home and the annex was empty. Petra went up to the noticeboard to see who had used the cleaning trolley after her the day she had taken down the paintings. But a new cleaning list had already been put up. She started to walk around in the annex in the vague hope of finding the two missing paintings. She searched everywhere but it was no good. She started to despair and accused herself of being careless for leaving the paintings on the cleaning trolley. From now on she would look at every painting with respect—with the utmost attention. She continued to search in the cellar and the storerooms, and then returned, exhausted, to the annex. Her hands shook as she got out her lighter. What had she done?

She pulled out a cigarette but then remembered that smoking was forbidden inside the hotel. She didn’t want to go to the bar. She could simply do what she used to at school and have a cigarette in the bathroom. So she went into the bathroom and while she was smoking she admired the stucco
work on the ceiling and the beautiful washbasins. The fittings here were all blue and silver and the artistically designed taps looked as if they came from a country mansion. It was a pity that the construction workers had left it all so messy. They had left behind tins of paint, brushes, protective paper and lots of other rubbish. Even though the annex wasn’t being used, they could at least have kept the bathroom decent, couldn’t they? She finished her cigarette and flushed the butt down the toilet. Then she gathered several garbage bags and some painting gear that was in the way. She could never leave anything untidy, even when she was not working. Behind some ladders there was a box marked ‘Salvation Army’ with things for the charity shop. She stopped. Right at the bottom she caught a glimpse of two paintings.

Petra moved the other bits and pieces which were piled on top of the paintings to one side. With trembling hands she lifted out the two paintings. They were indeed the very same ones she had taken down in the Princess Lilian suite. She put the paintings down on the console table and pulled out the colour copies. Yes! The paintings and the photocopies were identical, except for the hat and the rather too bushy moustache on the Renoir and the extra sailing boats on the Monet. She turned the paintings over and looked at the backs of them. There was a registration number and she could see that the paintings were on canvas. They both had gilded frames. When she
thought about it, she hadn’t seen any such frames in any of the other suites. However, she didn’t get any further before she heard footsteps and voices next to the entrance to the annex. It sounded like the chief barman and the new girl in reception.

Petra hunched up in the shadows so as not to be seen. At the far end of the corridor there was a temporary storeroom for the furniture in the rooms that were being redecorated. Perhaps the two of them were on their way there? She waited until the footsteps stopped, and then lifted up the Renoir painting. To her surprise, she saw that she had some paint on her thumb. Somebody must have splashed the paintings by mistake. It must have been the construction workers, or perhaps that rowdy rock star who had stayed in the suite … but no, by then she had already switched the paintings and the group of eccentric elderly friends had been staying there. She pulled out her handkerchief, wet a corner and gently rubbed the surface of the painting. When she got to the man’s hat, the handkerchief turned black and with each rub more of the man’s hair could be seen. She tried the Monet too. A sailing boat disappeared without her having to rub particularly hard. It must have been those sweet old people in the Princess Lilian suite … Petra smiled such a wide smile that you could almost hear it. Police throughout Sweden had been involved in the investigation, but nobody had managed to trace the paintings. The pensioners in the Princess Lilian suite had fooled the lot of them. Her first thought was that she should rush to reception and tell them, but at that very same moment she heard a cry followed by groans and laughter. It was the chief barman and the receptionist. Petra quickly put the paintings back in the box where she had found them. Best to get out of there. She
wondered what she should do: since everybody was looking for the paintings, surely sooner or later the police would offer a reward? Her student loan had all been spent and she was tired of the cleaning job. A little reward would solve all her problems. If she took the paintings home and kept them there for a while, she could say that she had acted in good faith. She hadn’t actually stolen them, but had found them amidst the rubbish in the bathroom. She had taken care of them for the time being while she tried to find a better place for them in the hotel—that’s what she could say, that sounded good. Then when she had realized what fine paintings they were, she had immediately phoned the museum—or the police—or whoever it was that had offered a reward. She could tell the press how pleased she was to have saved the priceless works for posterity. The scenario was perfect—nothing could go wrong.

A door opened and she heard steps further away in the annex. The steps got closer. The chief barman and his girlfriend! The pair of them weren’t even trying to be discreet, but were talking loudly and kissing as they went. Petra went back into the toilet cubicle, put the toilet lid down and then sat and thought about what she should say if they discovered her. She heard them pass and then wait for the elevator, but she didn’t dare move until she heard the elevator doors close. She remained sitting a while longer and was now grateful that the two of them had come along. In the darkness she had had time to think. Now she knew exactly what she should do with the paintings.

Hinseberg turned out not to be the best place to spend your summer! There was no Cadier bar or Veranda restaurant here, oh no. No goose or pyramid cake either, for that matter. Martha tossed and turned in her bed and found it hard to get to sleep. It was hot, and unfortunately she couldn’t go to the window and open it wide. She was in prison, after all. She pulled the covers off, puffed up her pillow and lay down again. But sleep eluded her, and Liza was at the back of her mind all the time. Perhaps it had been foolhardy to challenge her. Anyway, it had happened now and tomorrow she would lay the table for all of them.

When Liza came into the kitchen the next day she pretended not to notice that the coffee cup and plates were set out for her, but just sat down and helped herself to breakfast. As usual she looked as though she was in a mood, and she didn’t even acknowledge Martha’s presence. She held her hands around the coffee cup and now and then threw a glance out the window. Martha wondered what was wrong with the girl, because you could see that she was extremely unhappy. Her facial features were taut, her skin was grey and she had a vacant look in her eyes. If anyone spoke to her, she just muttered or simply didn’t bother to answer. A little later, in the gym, Martha decided to try to talk to her.

‘Hello,’ said Martha.

‘What are you doing in here?’

‘Even a dinosaur has to keep in shape.’

Some other girls came in and went directly to the exercise machines. Liza ignored them, put a mat on the floor and started with sit-ups.

‘I hear you’re going to get a temporary release,’ said Martha after a while when Liza took a break.

She got a grunt in reply.

‘Aren’t you pleased?’

Liza stretched out full length on the floor and began to do press-ups. Martha shrugged her shoulders and lifted some dumb-bells.

‘You know what, when I get my first temporary release I won’t have anywhere to go,’ Martha said after a while in a new attempt to start up a conversation. ‘I left the retirement home, now God knows …’

Liza, who was now on her way to the exercise cycle, stopped.

‘Welcome to reality. Those of us who end up in prison always lose our apartments. In the workshop we earn enough to buy candy and ciggies, but no more. If we haven’t got parents or a guy on the outside who’ll pay the rent, then we get kicked out. Then the authorities wonder why we relapse into crime.’

Martha had never thought of that. Then how could you make your way back to a normal life when you were finally released?

‘You must have been through quite a lot, I suppose?’ Martha went on.

‘I don’t want to talk about it!’

‘But—’

Liza got up and left the gym.

During the next few days, Liza governed her domain as before, and she pretended not to even see Martha. A few days before Liza was due to go, Martha was in the laundry room alone when Liza came in. Martha gave a start.

‘Did I give you a fright?’ said Liza when she caught sight of Martha. She nipped past her and stood so that she blocked the door. ‘Well, look what we have here! So you dare to go around alone?’

The ceiling light was rather weak and there was a smell of wet wool and laundry soap. The floor was wet, and a laundry basket had been tipped over in the corner. Martha pretended to be indifferent, but her heart was beating faster than usual. She had gone to the laundry room to see if she could handle the machines without any help. She hadn’t counted on bumping into Liza.

‘Is this washing machine okay?’ Martha asked, nodding at the one closest to her. She hoped that her voice sounded natural.

‘See for yourself. Stick your head in the drum and I’ll turn it on,’ Liza answered and lit a cigarette.

Martha pretended she hadn’t heard the malicious remark, cleared her throat and coughed because of the smoke.

‘Is this your laundry?’ she asked, pointing at one of the machines that was in the middle of a drying cycle.

‘Yes, but I’ll come back when it’s finished.’

Martha headed towards the door, but Liza wouldn’t let her get past.

‘Hinseberg is an aquarium, have you thought about that? The screws can see you everywhere. But not here. Not here and not in the showers. Sit down.’ She pointed at the bench beside the washing machines.

‘I thought I’d go out and wait till you’ve finished.’

‘No, sit down.’

Martha hesitated at first, but then went and sat down.

‘About the paintings. I’ve been thinking about them,’ said Liza as she took a bit of tobacco off her tongue. ‘A Renoir and a Monet; a lot of money, that is.’

‘For the person who finds them, yes.’

‘Come off it. Where are they?’

‘Don’t know. We managed to steal some of the most valuable paintings in Sweden, and then they disappeared after we received the ransom money. I wonder if there is a link there, if somebody traced us and got into the suite when we were gone.’

Liza took a step forward so that she stood right in front of her. Far too close, thought Martha.

‘OK, you’re a first-timer, but you don’t seem to have understood. We stick together in here. Out with it. Where are the paintings?’

‘They were in the suite when we left the Grand Hotel and they were gone when we got back. I don’t know any more than that.’

‘Which suite?’

‘As if I’d tell you that,’ said Martha. ‘Anyway, the paintings aren’t there any longer.’

‘Oh yeah, then it doesn’t matter.’

‘That’s right, of course.’ Martha stopped. ‘Yes, I wonder myself what happened. Who got into the suite to steal the paintings? It must have been somebody who knew that we had disguised them.’

‘Disguised them?’

‘Yes, you should have seen what the paintings looked like,’ said Martha, and now she had to smile. ‘We painted in a hat and sailing boats and a bit more besides so that they wouldn’t
be recognizable. But nevertheless they disappeared.’

Liza knocked the ash off her cigarette and took a deep drag.

‘Somebody could have recognized the paintings and then sold them.’

‘But who? We were only gone two nights.’

‘The hotel staff or the other guests, of course. If somebody hasn’t simply switched the paintings.’

‘Actually, there were two others hanging there when we came back,’ Martha remembered.

‘There, you see, aren’t I right?’

‘But the police have been round the entire hotel and searched. They didn’t find anything. And we were going to give the paintings back when we got the ransom money.’

‘And you got it?’

‘The money disappeared.’ Here Martha did actually stretch the truth a little, since she didn’t want to say that some of the ransom money had been saved and was waiting for them in the drainpipe.

‘Hang on, this is getting confusing. You carry out a record-breaking coup but you lose the loot
and
the ransom money?’

‘Yes, it was our first crime, you see. It’s a pity about the pictures.’

Liza took a step closer and leaned over Martha. For a moment she wondered if Liza was going to stub out the cigarette in her face.

‘Have the police questioned the cleaning staff?’

‘Don’t know. The police must have interrogated everybody.’

‘Somebody, one of the staff, could have taken the paintings. A bit of money might get them to talk.’

‘But I’m locked up for a year.’

‘I get my temporary release in a few days. I can help you, but I want ten per cent of the ransom.’

‘The money has disappeared, I said.’

‘Listen, sweetie. It can’t all have disappeared. I’ll go along with perhaps some of the money disappearing, but not all of it. And the paintings are out there somewhere. They have either been sold down the line, in which case it’s too late, or somebody has them and is lying low. Anybody at the hotel could have recognized them and now they are simply waiting for the police to offer a reward.’

‘You’re right. Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘Being a criminal is a profession. You need assistance. Admittedly, you are as old as the hills, but that doesn’t make you any wiser.’ Liza gave Martha a measured look. ‘I can do the rounds and ask my contacts. When I’ve found the paintings, I’ll get my ten per cent. We will both be winners then.’

‘I don’t know, there are several of us involved. I can’t decide this on my own,’ Martha answered.

‘Listen. It doesn’t actually make any difference. You’ve already revealed enough for me to fix this myself.’ Martha saw a dark expression pass over Liza’s face before she continued. ‘Did you really think I would share with you? Lesson one here at Hinseberg is that you shouldn’t say too much. Lesson two is that you shouldn’t trust anybody.’

‘But—’

Liza took her clothes out of the dryer and walked off without another word.

The night before her temporary release, Liza suddenly succumbed to a severe stomach bug. She lay in bed all the next day and the day after, and she and her probation officer never actually left. Nobody except Martha knew what had caused it. She still had some of Rake’s herbs. Nobody had searched the reflector arm of her walker.