Thank you all so much for your reviews! For those of you with a Magnus obsession I'm glad I could fill the void. Alright here you go.
Kurt awoke to the sound of running water. It seemed that his roommate was taking a shower. Rolling over Kurt got a look at the other bed and although the blankets were a bit wrinkled, the bed itself was still made. The kid's laptop was sitting open on the desk, its glow the only real light in the room since all the curtains were closed. He must not have slept much again. This was going to have to be addressed at some point before it got both Magnus and Kurt in trouble. What am I, a bloody babysitter? the detective thought dryly.
Just then a shirtless Magnus with a towel wrapped around his waist walked out of the bathroom tousling his hair with a second towel. "Good morning," he said in an all too cheery voice laced with just enough sarcasm to annoy Wallander.
"Morning," Kurt mumbled back as he struggled to get himself out of bed. Kurt Wallander did not do mornings.
"I picked up some new information," Magnus was saying as Kurt shuffled himself into the bathroom. "Turns out Linda went with a pretty sketchy crowd in high school. The police brought her home a few times for one thing or another. It was all minor stuff though; egging cars, vandalizing houses, that kind of thing." The young detective made his way over to the computer to double check his findings. "This continued until about four years ago when she was placed under house arrest for three months. Two of the guys involved were even sent to a juvenile detention center. The incident is only labeled as a domestic disturbance though. She's been clean ever since."
"So she could have fallen back into her old ways and someone didn't appreciate it," said Wallander's muffled voice from behind the bathroom door.
"It's possible," replied Magnus.
At this point a fully dressed Kurt stepped out of the bathroom, scrubbing at his face and looking altogether exasperated. "Anything is possible at this point. That's the problem." With that little gem of wisdom Magnus merely continued to tap at his keys. "I'm going for some breakfast," announced Wallander as he threw on his jacket and headed for the door. "And put a shirt on will you. That's disgusting."
Magnus, who was only clad in a pair of black work pants, chuckled a bit but didn't bother looking up. "Getting jealous in your old age?" he remarked.
Wallander sent him a glare that could've turned a man to stone. "Shirt. On. Now!" and with that he was out the door.
After breakfast it was time to get down to business. The first stop was Mr. Tramwire's house which was quite grand. The entryway was marked by two immaculate white columns at the top of which was an impressive archway. The windows were vast, buffeted by gold painted shutters. And that was just the guest house.
Inside was just as lavish. Mr. and Mrs. Bromstad were sitting on a settee in the parlor room just off the main hallway. Kurt briefly wondered just how rich you had to be to have a parlor room in your guest suite. Mr. Bromstad sat slightly hunched with one arm around his wife's shoulders. Mrs. Bromstad sat with her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped in front of her face, silent tears occasionally trickling down her cheeks.
"I know this must be a difficult time for you," Kurt must have said those words a thousand times in his career yet each time they felt as completely inadequate as the last. "I'm just going to need you to answer a few questions," he continued.
"Of course," replied Mr. Bromstad, "anything you need detective." The man seemed young for a politician. He was of slender build with black hair only just beginning to grey around the edges. He spoke with confidence and not an ounce of trembling in his voice.
"When exactly did you find your daughter? It was you that found her wasn't it?" asked Wallander not wishing to beat around the bush.
"Yes, we both found her actually," said Mr. Bromstad. "We were coming home from a charity event. It was about 10 p.m." His tone was straight, business like. There was some emotion attached to the words but it seemed almost calculated.
"Right," said Wallander. "Any idea who might have done this?"
Mr. Bromstad looked to his wife who vigorously shook her head. "The only idea we can think of is some political nut trying to make a statement. As to what that statement might be though, I'm afraid I am at a loss."
"Okay," was Wallander's response. "Any friends we can talk to? Someone she might have said something to?"
"Tracy." The word was quick and quiet. Mrs. Bromstad's eyes glanced up for a moment, "Tracy Malon," she said. "She was Linda's best friend. She'll be devastated." The last part was whispered and sounded hollow as if the woman said it in a trance.
The smallness of Mrs. Bromstad struck Wallander and for a moment he was reminded of his own daughter. For the first time it occurred to him that the two girls had the same name. Shaking off the thought he cleared his throat and asked, "Any others, anyone else who might know something?"
Mr. Bromstad was quick to jump in cutting off any response Mrs. Bromstad might have made. "Linda's friends came and went, mostly. Tracy was the only one we really knew. She would know Linda's friends better than us."
Kurt gave a slight nod. "Alright, that'll be all for now." He said. "We'll contact you if we need anything else. Magnus." He tilted his head toward his companion and then toward the door, suggesting that it was time to go. Up until this point Magnus had been quietly taking notes on the conversation but at Kurt's call he flipped his notebook shut and headed outside.
It wasn't until they were in the car and driving off the Tramwire property when Magnus spoke up. "They're hiding something," he stated firmly.
Kurt looked over at his passenger and allowed the corner of his mouth to curl into a small smile. "Nice to know that your instincts work every once in a while," he jibed. "Mr. Bromstad is a politician and Mrs. Bromstad , a politician's wife. They're always hiding something."