Chapter 17 Chapter Seventeen

Martin Baker looked at Le En and felt very guilty.In the past thirty hours, the two of them had actually slept about the same amount of time, which means that they had not slept at all, but compared with this colleague, Martin Baker was much more relaxed and happy. The whites of Le En's eyes were as red as his nose, his cheeks and forehead were pale, and the bags under his eyes were big and dark, just like a panda.Lehn yawned and looked for the electric razor in the drawer. They were both tired, thought Martin Baker. Forty-eight-year-old Martin Baker was older than Lehn, but Lehn was also forty-three, and the two of them had passed the age of going through the night without changing their faces several years ago.

Even though he was tired, Lehn was too stubborn to offer information, and he had to ask Martin Baker to ask him questions before he would speak. "Did you find anything?" Pointing gloomily at his notebook, as if it were a dead cat or something shady, Lehn said vaguely: "There are almost 20 names here. I only read the complaint letter of Nieman's last year as the team leader in the jurisdiction. There are almost 20 names. I wrote down the names and addresses of the complainants in the previous two years. If I want to tell you one by one, it will take about a day."

Martin Baker nodded. "Yes," Lehn went on, "and the whole day tomorrow, and maybe even the day after tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow." "I don't see any point in looking any further," Martin Baker said. "The information you found is also very old." "Yeah, I think so," Lehn said. He picked up the electric razor and left the room listlessly, the long cord trailing behind him. Martin Baker sat down at Lehn's table, frowning and began to flip through the notes that looked like Lehn's ghost.He has never recognized Le En's handwriting, and he is afraid that he will never be able to recognize it in his life.

Martin Baker copied the name, address and complaint on a note. Johann Bemelssohn, laborer, 20 Gutstrasse, abused. Probably all of this kind of situation. When Lehn emerged from the bathroom, Martin Baker had copied out a list of twenty-two names. Le En groomed for a long time, his appearance did not improve at all, or even worse, but he felt that it was enough to look a little human.Expecting him to be full of energy because of this is simply impossible. Maybe they need a pep talk, so let's have a so-called "confidence call." "Okay, Lehn, I know it's time for us both to go home and sleep, but if we hold on a little longer, maybe we can come to some conclusions, come on."

"Yeah, all right," Lehn said uncertainly. "For example, you are responsible for the first ten people, and I will be responsible for the rest, so that we can find these people quickly. If there is nothing special, just cross them off the list. Is that okay?" "Okay, as you like." Le En's tone was completely noncommittal, without even a trace of determination and fighting spirit. Le En blinked and couldn't help shaking, but he sat down at the table and moved the phone in front of him. Lehn felt that it was pointless to investigate these people, and Martin Baker should know this too.

Nieman must have bullied countless good people during his police career, and only a few of them wrote letters to complain.Le En searched casually, but only found a small part. But many years of experience told him that most of his work was meaningless, and even those cases that had been pursued for a long time had results, but at first glance they didn't make sense at first glance. Martin Baker went into the next room and started talking on the phone, but stopped after three calls and just sat there passively with the receiver in his hand.He hadn't found any of the people on the list, and now he was thinking of another unrelated matter.

After a while, he took out his notebook, turned to a certain page, and dialed the phone number of Nieman's house.It was the boy who answered the phone. "Niman's house." The voice sounded like an adult. "I'm Officer Baker, we met last night." "What's up?" "Is your mother okay?" "Oh, she's fine, much better. Dr. Blomberry came, and then my mother slept a few hours, and she looks much better now, and—" The other party didn't go any further. "And how?" "And we're not unprepared," the boy said hesitantly. "I mean the fact that Dad died. He was so sick, and he was sick for so long."

"Can your mother answer the phone?" "It should be fine. She's in the kitchen, please wait a moment, I'll go and tell her." "Thank you," said Martin Baker. He heard footsteps walking away from the phone. What kind of husband and father would a man like Nieman be?Their family looks pretty good, maybe he is a good father, a good husband. At least his son looked devastated. "Hi, I'm Anna Nyman." "I'm Officer Baker, and I want to ask one thing." "Please say." "How many people know that your husband is hospitalized?"

"Not many people know about it," she said slowly. "But he's been sick for a while, hasn't he?" "Yeah, that's right, but he didn't want anyone to know, though—" "Although what?" "Some people still know." "Who knows? Do you know?" "It's our family first." "Do you mean--" "My child and I, and Stig has two younger brothers, one in Gothenburg and the other in Burton." Martin.Baker nodded. The letter found in the ward was indeed written by Nieman's younger brother. "Anyone else?"

"I'm an only child myself and my parents are dead, so I don't have any living relatives except an uncle, but he lives in the US and I've never met him." "And where are your friends?" "We don't have any friends, I mean, we don't. Dr. Blomberg, who came to the house last night, sees us a lot, but he's also Stig's doctor, so of course he knows." "I see." "There are also Captain Pam and his wife. He is an old friend of my husband's jurisdiction. We often meet." "Anyone else?" "No, that's all. We have very few friends, only the few I just mentioned—"

She paused, and Martin Baker waited. "Stig used to say..." She didn't finish her sentence. "What did he use to say?" "Police don't have many friends." It was true that Martin Baker had no friends himself, except for his daughter, Kollberg, and a woman named Osa Torrell, who was also a policeman. Maybe Monzon is one, he is a policeman in Malmö. "Did these people know your husband, and have they seen him in Sabasberry?" "No, I don't think so, the only one who knows he's there is Dr. Blomberg--I mean, he's the only one of our friends who knows." "Has anyone seen him?" "Stefan and I, we go every day." "Is there no one else?" "No." "Not even Dr. Blomberry?" "No. Stig doesn't want anyone to go but me and my son. He doesn't even want to see Stefan." "why?" "He doesn't want anyone to see him, you have to understand..." Martin Baker waited for her to continue. "My husband was always in good health," she said at last. "He grew thin and emaciated before he died. I think he was ashamed." "Hmm," Martin Baker responded. "But Stefan doesn't mind, he adores his father, and the father and son are very close." "What about your daughter?" "Stig isn't that close to his daughter. Your own kids?" "Have." "You have sons and daughters?" "yes." "Then you should understand the situation, I mean between father and son." Honestly, Martin Baker doesn't know.He thought hard for a long time, and finally Mrs. Nieman interrupted him: "Are you still listening, Officer Baker?" "Of course. By the way, what about the neighbors?" "Neighbor?" "Yes, does the neighbor know that your husband is hospitalized?" "Of course I don't know." "How do you explain Nieman's absence?" "I don't have to explain at all because we don't hang out with our neighbours." "And your son? Maybe he mentioned it to his friends?" "Stefan? No, absolutely not. He knows his father's temper. Stefan will never do anything to make his father unhappy. Apart from insisting on going to see him with me every night, In fact, I think Stig is quite happy in his heart." Martin Baker jotted something down on a sticky note and concluded: "So that means that only you, Stefan, Dr. Blomberg, and the two younger brothers of Team Leader Nieman know which hospital and which room your husband lives in?" "yes." "I see. One more thing." "What's up?" "Which co-workers does your husband meet after get off work?" "I do not understand what you mean." Martin Baker put down his pen and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Was his question really so unclear? "I mean, who do you and your husband associate with in the police station?" "not a single one." "what?" "What exactly do you want to ask?" "Doesn't your husband have a single friend at the police station? Doesn't he hang out with his colleagues after get off work?" "No. In the twenty-six years I've been married to Stig, no police have ever been in my house." "Are you telling the truth or not?" "Really. You and the colleague who came with you last night are the only policemen who have ever entered my house. But when you came, Stig was dead." "But some people will come, such as subordinates who come to pick him up or help him deliver things." "Yes, that's right, there are orderlies." "What did you say?" "That's what my husband calls them. He calls the people who come to my house orderlies. They come over sometimes, but Stig never lets them into our house. He's adamant about that." "Really?" "Yeah, he's always been like that. We don't let people in if the patrolman comes to pick him up or deliver something. If it's me or the kid who answers the door, we always ask the other person to wait, then close the door and wait for Stig to answer himself." Door." "Is that what he asked for?" "Yes, he told us very seriously that it must be so." "But what about his colleagues who have worked for many years? Is it the same?" "yes." "And you don't know any of them?" "I don't know, even if I know the name, I don't know the person." "But he will at least talk about them." "rare." "And what about his boss?" "As I said, he rarely talks about it. It's Stig's policy not to let business interfere with his private life." "However, you also said that you know the names of some colleagues, who are they?" "It's officers, like the Constable, the Constable, and the Inspector—" "From Stockholm?" "Yes," she said, "or would it be another inspector?" At this time, Le En walked in with some documents, and Martin Baker looked at him blankly, then recovered and continued the conversation just now. "He must have mentioned some of the people he worked with?" "Yes, there is one. I know he has a very trusted subordinate named Hult. Stig will occasionally mention him. They have cooperated for a long time before we met." "Do you know Hult?" "I don't know him, I haven't even seen him face to face." "never seen it?" "Yeah, but I spoke to him on the phone." "That's it?" said Martin Baker suddenly. "Will you wait, Mrs. Nieman?" "of course can." Martin Baker put the receiver on the table, scratching his hair with his fingertips, thinking hard.Lehn yawned. Martin Baker put the receiver back to his ear. "Mrs. Nieman?" "yes." "Do you know Captain Hult's name?" "Yes, I happen to know, his name is Palmon Harald Hoult. I don't know his rank, though." "You just said it just happened?" "Yes, I just happened to know that his name is in the phone book in front of me, Palmon Harald Hoult." "Who wrote it?" "me." Martin Baker was silent. "Mr Hult called my husband last night and was very upset to learn that Stig was ill." "Did you give him the address of the hospital?" "Yes, he wanted to send flowers. I said I knew who he was, and he was the only one I'd give the address to. Besides—" "What is it?" "It's the Superintendent of Police, the Commissioner, or the Inspector . . . " "I see. Then you gave Hoult the address?" "Yes." She paused. "What do you mean by that—" she asked a little puzzled. "Nothing," Martin Baker reassured her. "I don't think it should matter." "But you seem very—" "We just have to ask about everything, Mrs. Nieman, thank you for your help." "Thank you." She didn't know how to respond. "Thank you," repeated Martin Baker, and hung up. Lean leaned against the door frame. "I've checked everything that needs to be checked," he said. "Two of them are dead. Nobody knows what the hell this Eriksson is doing." "Oh," Martin Baker said absently, writing a name on a note. Palmon Harald Hoult.