‘But isn’t it useful to save at least some kind of information about your clients?’
‘No. Like what?’
‘Names, phone numbers, preferences. I don’t know.’
Olena shakes her head. ‘I don’t.’
‘So you don’t have any details saved on your computer, or on your phone? No cashbook or any physical records like that?’
‘No, I’m sorry,’ she replies, running a hand over the blue fabric cushion on her chair.
Joona nods, finishes off his sandwich and wipes his mouth.
‘OK, Olena, I’m going to get straight to the point .?.?. I was told that you have a regular who was robbed by another sex worker.’
Olena starts talking, and the interpreter begins scribbling again. The older woman asks a question, listens to the answer, nods and then turns to Joona.
‘I saw him maybe eight times in total, but he had some kind of breakdown. The last time we met, about six months ago, it was impossible to have any sort of conversation with him. He was convinced a criminal network had put a price on his head, and he thought I was working with them.’
‘Did he ever talk about the robbery, when he was beaten up?’ asks Joona.
‘Only once, the first time.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Not much. He wanted to search my place to make sure there was no one hiding,’ she says. ‘I asked him why, and he told me about the assault, that a prostitute had lured him into a trap .?.?. and that she hadn’t looked anything like her pictures.’
‘What did she look like?’
‘He didn’t say, just that she was ugly and crazy and that she started hitting him with a metal bar – in the face, on his back and between his legs.’
‘Do you know her name?’
‘She seems to be one of the women who changes her alias and the forum she uses pretty often, but he called her Miss Liza .?.?. followed by a string of expletives.’
‘Miss Liza?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know anything else about her?’
‘No, I’m sorry.’
‘OK, I won’t take up any more of your time, but is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?’
‘I don’t think so, thank you. I know what you’re getting at, but if I stop doing this then I’ll be letting my family down and I can’t do that. It would all have been for nothing then,’ she replies, eyes welling up as she holds his gaze.
31
Joona hangs up his coat and jacket by the door to the investigation room and turns on the electric Advent candles in the window. His curly blond hair is getting long, and is still as messy as it was when he first woke that morning. If Valeria had been there, she would have told him to run his fingers through it, if nothing else.
He sits down at the meeting table with his colleagues Rikard Roslund and Stina Linton.
Rikard is a detective inspector, and has had to fight to keep his position since the new boss arrived. He has sharp features, thin lips and hazel eyes. His short hair is reddish brown, and almost shimmers like bronze beneath the harsh lighting in the office.
Stina is an experienced detective superintendent who joined the NCU from Malmö a few years back. She has pale skin, a small, plump mouth and furrowed cheeks. Her short black bob is flecked with grey, and she wears black-rimmed glasses and a self-imposed uniform of a brown or grey sweater with trousers and flat shoes.
Their chairs creak as they return to their desks to search for any mention of Miss Liza online. Working methodically, they trawl through the various sites used to sell and procure sex – Real Escort, Happy Escort, Escort 46 – with no real ideawhether the ads are real or scams.