Fear Of Broken Glass

The Car

13th October 1987 18:30

The air was heavy, sky darkening, the smell of rain pervasive despite the absence of raindrops. A black coupé was parked close to the edge of the forest, three hours walk from the rock called Troll's Church, doors open. Mud-spattered alloy wheels greeted the visitors with the four-quadrant symbol of what had once been a utilitarian propeller, now synonymous with luxury, rain-studded windows illuminated from within by a light moving in the vicinity of the rear seat.

What had started as the execution of a routine duty had become a search for a killer. The victim's car had been discovered in the west visitor's car park. Two detectives worked rhythmically and routinely, searching with precision, despite being confined to cramped working conditions.

'Whoever parked here was in a hurry,' the first of the detectives said, the taller and bulkier of the two. He was leaning half-in, half-out of the car and paused for a moment, gazing past the driver's door to the missing lining panel. It lay discarded on the passenger seat, dark cavities revealed and already forgotten.

His leaner, quicker companion with the flashlight turned to look at him. The second detective was the senior officer called Lindgren. He sat on the back seat, white rubber-gloved hands poised. He looked out at the dark edge of the tree line beyond the vehicle, to where a path marker provided entry to the unseen park and nodded.

The first detective retreated, sliding the driver's seat into the down-forward position, so he could climb in to the back seat and sit down next to his companion who had his back to him. 'I heard they passed the case to Almquist.'

Lindgren didn't respond, concentrating on the task of inserting the flat edge of a knife blade underneath the fake leather lining of the side panel.

'Some say he hasn't got it in him,' the first detective continued, turning his attention to the back lining behind the driver's seat. 'He's getting a bit long in the tooth for this kind of thing if you ask me.' He fumbled a hand into his pocket for his own knife, his breath vaporizing in the cold night air. 'Should have quit when he was ahead.'

'That's the problem though isn't it?' Lindgren said quietly, turning around. He moved the light down to the seat, the light above his head lighting brown hair blonde. 'He's never been ahead, has he?'

'Ah, that's not true,' the first detective moved his gloved hand along the edges of the lining, feeling with his fingers.

Occasional raindrops hit the metal roof above them as Lindgren returned to his task and pulled the liner, knife in hand. 'Four times.' He wrapped his white fingers around the edge and pulled. 'Each one bad luck?' he snorted as the panel came away with a series of popping sounds, the remaining plastic plugs pulled from their sockets. He directed a thin aluminum pen flashlight into the shadows of another cavity. 'Some people are just born that way.'

'Anyone can have bad luck.'

'No. Mark my words,' Lindgren said slowly, eyes scanning each crevice. 'He won't get anywhere.' He sat there staring into the cavity for a moment before shaking his head.

The first detective grunted as he heaved, turning his back on Lindgren to look inside without seeing anything. 'Then he could do with all the help he can get.'

Lindgren shook his head, turning around with the flash light in his hand. 'Help? In most cases, cases like this... it's like walking a path littered with rubble in the dark. It can be right there, in front of us.' He waved the light on the seat, then moved it upward so it blinded his companion. 'All we need is a little light.' He moved the light away and smiled as he placed a hand in his pocket, taking out a piece of gum and popping it into his mouth, 'All we have to do is follow it, picking up as we go along. But not Almquist...'

'Cos he's not up to it?'

'Nah. He hasn't got a light,' he said raising his head. 'Does he?'

'He's got Vikland.'

Lindgren smirked, turning the flashlight so it shone inside the back seat cavity. 'What was the last murder case you can remember she worked on?'

'She had a few in Stockholm.'

The droplets became random, quickening in the silence.

Lindgren shook his head, leaning closer, moving the light downwards. He shone it to one side, then the other as he chewed. 'But this –' he sat upright with a smug look, 'well, with what we have here, we can't follow that path, light or no light.'

The first detective frowned. He turned and waited.

Lindgren read his look, eyes never leaving the cavity, breath filling the light. 'This isn't Stockholm,' he said softly, reaching a hand inside. He closed his fingers around a package wrapped in black plastic sealed with silver duct tape. He returned the pen light to the seat and using both hands removed it from it's hiding place as he chewed.

'What is it?' The first detective leaned forwards, face intense.

'You might not be around long enough to see the end of this.'

'Why do you say that?'

'Just take my word for it...' Lindgren smirked, face lit from below. 'It's not something you want to know about.'

The first detective looked at his superior, eyes shining and stayed looking at him for a long time but refrained from asking the unasked questions.

'I tell you what,' Lindgren said quietly, the droplets intensifying to rain. He turned off the flashlight and sat upright looking thoughtful. 'For now, we're going to sit back. Let him do the driving.' He looked down at the dark package in his hands for a moment. 'Just follow at a healthy distance, see what he picks up on the gloomy path ahead. Because wherever this leads,' he chewed and felt the package with one hand as if confirming something he already knew. He dropped his voice turning his light to shine in his companion's face. 'No amount of light is going to make the blindest bit of difference to anyone, least of all Almquist.'

***

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