The Island Affair

by Helena Halme

  Ebba looks at Alicia, raising an eyebrow, 'I bet he offered,' she mumbles and before Alicia has time to reply, continues, 'So you're living here now? You're not registered as living here. We have your home address as ...' Ebba refers to the screen on her phone, 'Crouch End, London?'

  Alicia looks down at her hands, 'Yeah. Sorry, I'm not sure what I am going to do.'

  Ebba makes a note on her phone and looks at Alicia again. Don't forget you have three months, after which you have to register your move from one EU country to another. The rules still apply until Brexit.'

  Alicia sighs, 'OK. Give me a break, will you!' She grins, trying to remind Ebba that even though they weren't the best of friends before, they're not exactly strangers now.

  But Ebba isn't having any of it. 'I don't make the rules,' she says, not returning Alicia's smile. 'Going back to my investigation, can you tell me how exactly you and Patrick came to the scene?'

  'I told you—we were covering a story. Harri called me into his office this morning and Patrick was there. He offered to give me a lift. Apparently Ålandsbladet isn't wealthy enough to own a boat of its own.'

  'But I thought you were a financial journalist, not a breaking news reporter,' Ebba says and crosses her arms.

  Alicia groans. 'Yes, that was a bit of a surprise to me too. It seems there are no such distinctions here.'

  'Right,' Ebba says, and continues. 'Your step-dad filled me in on the unfortunate incident with the tractor, and their working relationship.' Ebba's glance settles on Alicia once more. 'It's a shame you didn't let me know about the connection before. Any reason why you didn't?'

  Alicia bites the inside of her lip. She hadn’t mentioned this to Ebba because she wasn't sure whether the farmworkers’ work status was above board. She is well aware that Uffe takes on summer staff without worrying too much about permits and taxes. She is almost certain Daniel and his Romanian friends were paid cash in hand, no questions asked.

  'I didn't want Uffe, or my mother, to get involved in something that had nothing to do with them. Besides, I wasn't even sure it was him.'

  'Hmm,' Ebba says, still keeping her eyes on Alicia. Alicia is beginning to feel uncomfortable, as if her old schoolfriend is accusing her of something. Instead of saying this to Ebba, however, Alicia keeps quiet.

  'Anything else you'd like to tell me? Any other small details about the boy you have kept to yourself, in case it would get someone else in trouble?'

  'No, of course not.'

  'Nothing to do with your son, Stefan?'

  Alicia stares at Ebba. Suddenly she feels very cold. She can't speak.

  Ebba continues, 'We have reason to believe the two youngsters knew each other.'

  Forty-One

  Alicia can't sleep that night. Images of Stefan involved in some crime on the islands, speeding fast on a motorcycle, or his body being replaced by that of the Romanian boy creep into her dreams and she wakes with a start.

  Finally, when she has tossed and turned in bed for what seems like hours, and when she sees the light streaming into the room through the small window and making an oblong pattern on the pine log wall, she gets up. She looks at her phone and sees it's a few minutes past 6am. The birds are already singing outside, noisily making preparations for the day ahead.

  Alicia gets out of bed and fills the coffee machine Hilda has brought to the sauna cottage. They already had a small fridge for beer, and Alicia has brought some butter, rye bread and cheese for breakfast. She needs to be more independent of her mother and Uffe.

  From now on, she plans to take the bus into town rather than rely on Hilda's lifts to the newspaper office. Her mother's time-keeping is terrible, and her drinking, which Alicia knows she must mention, worries her sick. She plans to leave a note at the house later, or discuss it with Uffe, who's usually awake early. As well as the drinking, Alicia is seriously worried about their money troubles. She needs to speak to Hilda, but has no idea how she will broach the subject. And she can’t do anything until the matter with poor Daniel has been settled.

  With a hot, steaming cup of black coffee, and a woollen throw around her shoulders, Alicia goes to sit on the terrace and watches the sun, which is already high over the horizon. It looks like being another bright and hot day, with just some hazy clouds scattered over a deep-blue sky. She can see a row of sailing boats moving slowly around. They are gathered in the shipping lane, waiting for the swing bridge to open so that they can make their way through the Sjoland canal and into Mariehamn's East Harbor. These are early risers, she thinks.

  Later, the town will be full of tourists and the restaurants and cafés buzzing. She hopes Hilda's shop will be filled with customers too.

  Alicia pulls her knees up and turns her thoughts to what Ebba said about the Romanian boy, Daniel. Alicia feels ashamed that she never even met him. He had just turned eighteen, so he was exactly the same age as Stefan. And Daniel knew Alicia's son.

  'Two friends, both dead now,' Ebba said in that serious, level voice of hers. Her intelligent eyes were on Alicia, as if waiting to hear how she could explain it. But, of course, she wasn't able to do that. How could the policewoman imagine she would have an explanation when she didn't even know the two boys were close?

  They’d sat in silence for what seemed like hours, on the same terrace where Alicia is now, watching the birds duck in and out of the reeds. 'Look, I'm not sure what you are saying. How do you know that Daniel knew my Stefan?' she asked Ebba.

  'There are messages on his phone. And photos of the two of them—and a girl.'

  'Who?'

  'We don't know yet.' Ebba sighed and stood up. 'Come and see me on Monday at the station. I should have more information by then.'

  Alicia nodded.

  'Have a good weekend,' Ebba said and disappeared around the corner of the cottage.

  Now, sipping her coffee, Alicia resolves to find out who that girl is. Surely there must be something on Stefan's phone or laptop. She needs to ask Liam to look through any images. Alicia picks up her phone and sees the latest messages Liam has sent her, all gone unanswered. She types in a few words, rereads what she has written, and then deletes the word 'sorry'. She realizes she's not sorry for having kept her distance from him. Liam is still her husband, that is true, but as far as she is concerned they are separated.

  * * *

  When, two hours later, Alicia makes her way up to the house, her mother is standing by the kitchen window above the sink, looking over the fields and the sea beyond. She's clutching a cup of coffee.

  'Hi,' Alicia says.

  Her mother turns around and Alicia goes and hugs her. Hilda's eyes are red again, and she looks so miserable that Alicia has to ask, 'What's the matter?'

  Her mother turns back to the window. Alicia sees Uffe walking along the side of one of the fields, and they follow his slow progress to the end of the path until he disappears into the narrow strip of pine trees separating the rest of Uffe's farm from the house.

  'Oh, the boy's accident has upset us both,' Hilda says.

  'It's terrible,' Alicia agrees. She decided during her morning swim that she will not mention what Ebba told her about Stefan, Daniel, and the unknown girl. Not until she has a chance to find out from the policewoman who the girl is.

  'Do you want breakfast?' Hilda asks. Alicia realizes that her mother is still in her dressing gown.

  'No.' Alicia tells her mother that she plans to take a bus into town. She sees relief in Hilda's eyes.

  'Aren't you going in today?' Alicia asks.

  Hilda glances at her daughter. She can see her expression change to a wary one. 'Oh, the summer girl is there today.'

  Her mother smiles and turns around, giving her daughter the message that the matter is closed.

  Hilda offers Alicia Uffe's old bike, but Alicia decides against the rusty old thing. She plans to buy one in the shops in the fall, when the tourist season is over and prices plummet for things like that.

  If she's still on the islands then. />
  Forty-Two

  The first person Alicia sees when she enters the newspaper office is Patrick.

  Why is he constantly hanging around here?

  'There's a meeting with Harri at 9am sharp. You and I are covering the murder case,' he says to Alicia.

  She stares at Patrick. She glances at her watch and sees it's nearly 9 o'clock already.

  'Murder?'

  'Come on,' he says and touches the small of Alicia's back, pushing her toward the glass cubicle where Harri is already sitting, talking to Birgit. The personnel woman is standing with her back to the general office and there is another man sitting down, with only his blond hair visible. When she opens the door, forced by Patrick behind her, Alicia immediately recognizes him. Kurt Eriksson—the majority owner of the newspaper and the most famous man on the islands.

  'Where's that girl?' Harri says as soon as Alicia and Patrick enter his fish-bowl of an office.

  'Called in sick,' Birgit says. The woman is holding a stack of papers. Did she ever go anywhere without them, Alicia wonders.

  'If that's all,' she now says, looking at Harri. The editor nods and Birgit leaves the room, closing the door behind her.

  Alicia feels Kurt Eriksson's gaze on her. He coughs. It's just a small sound, barely audible, but it stops Harri in his tracks.

  'Ah, and Kurt, please meet Alicia, our newest recruit. From London,' he adds and lifts his chest a little.

  If only they knew, Alicia thinks and looks at the famous millionaire, who stands up and extends his hand to her.

  'Hello again. We met at Midsummer,' Alicia says and takes his hand.

  'Yes, of course,' Kurt Eriksson says and moves his eyes toward Patrick, who is now standing next to Alicia. His face hardens from the polite smile directed toward Alicia just a second before.

  'I believe you know my son-in-law?' he says, bringing his face back to Alicia with a false smile on his lips again. Alicia notices his pale eyes have the same, cold, expression in them. His tan has an orange hue, and his artificially blond hair has been professionally styled to look naturally ruffled. Close up, he looks far too young, his skin a little tight and thin across his face. He is wearing a pink striped shirt, tucked into dark navy chinos, revealing a slightly extended but firm stomach, and gives off a scent of expensive aftershave. No tax-free junk from the Viking Line ferries for this guy, Alicia thinks, and she pulls her hand away.

  'I hear you've worked for the Financial Times?' he says and gives Alicia a smarmy smile.

  'Yes,' she replies, and wonders whether to add that she was a freelance reporter, but decides against it.

  There is a silence and Alicia wishes more than anything that she could turn on her heels and leave the room.

  'Right, I want you two to go and talk with the police, come back and write a thousand words,' Harri says, ignoring the polite chit chat Kurt Eriksson has started.

  'I'm not ...' Alicia says, but Harri puts his right hand up, palm facing Alicia.

  'If you want to go full-time for the next few weeks, we've just OK'd it with the shareholder.' Harri nods at Kurt Eriksson, whose smile widens but still doesn't reach his eyes.

  * * *

  'What the hell?' Alicia spits at Patrick when they are outside the newspaper office, walking toward the police headquarters a few blocks away along the East Harbor. The wind has got up and the rattle of the sails and rigging in the wind is so loud it's almost deafening. They walk right past the spot where Patrick's boat is moored, where he first invited Alicia onboard.

  'What have I done?' Patrick says, stopping in the middle of the path. He is wearing another white shirt (how many does he own?), black ripped jeans and his suede jacket.

  'What are you even doing here?' Alicia faces Patrick, her hands on her hips. 'You don't work for the paper, and you don't want to be involved in this story.'

  Patrick touches Alicia's arm, and in spite of herself, the contact sends a jolt deep inside her. She shrugs Patrick's hand away. 'I'm waiting. What is going on?'

  Patrick runs his fingers through his hair and Alicia can't help but find the gesture endearing. The breeze catches the blond strands and a few fall back onto his face. Alicia is glad she put her own hair up in a ponytail this morning.

  'Look there aren't many suspicious deaths in Åland, so this is big. Plus you aren't experienced in this kind of thing.'

  'And you are? When we saw the body you told me you'd never covered crime. I'm a big girl, I can do this!' Alicia almost shouts the words.

  Patrick lifts his eyebrows. 'Yeah sure, but we don't have anybody who has written about something like this. So it makes sense if we put our two heads together.' He regards Alicia for a moment and then stretches his arms out in front of her. 'Honestly, that's all it is. Harri just wanted me to help you out.'

  'I told you, I don't need any help,' Alicia says, but she is close to being convinced. She turns on her heels and continues walking along the path by the jetty to the police station.

  Patrick hurries to catch her up and takes her arm. 'I knew you'd come around.' He grins like a little boy and Alicia shrugs her shoulders, detaching herself from him.

  'Don't get any ideas,' she says, but she cannot help a smile forming.

  Forty-Three

  They walk along Strandvägen in silence, passing the Hotel Arkipelag and the library. Images of visiting the place with Stefan flood Alicia's brain. She glances over at Patrick and wonders if she should tell him what Ebba said about Stefan knowing Daniel, but decides against it. She will try to speak to Ebba on her own. They cross the main thoroughfare of the town. In the distance, the sun, now high in the sky, is reflected on the surface of the sea. The light bouncing off the shifting water is blinding and Alicia has to shade her eyes. She's forgotten to bring her sunglasses.

  The police station is an old 1950s building, clad in dull gray cement. They have to wait for Ebba. Patrick and Alicia sit on green plastic chairs.

  'I need to speak to her privately first,' Alicia says, when the door eventually opens and Ebba gestures for them to enter.

  Patrick has already stood up.

  Alicia turns and looks at him, 'Please?'

  For a moment Alicia thinks that Patrick will insist on coming with her, but then he relents and sits back down.

  'Before you ask,‘ says Alicia, ‘I have no idea why he's here. Something about crimes against persons being rare on the islands.'

  Ebba doesn't say anything. She folds her long legs behind a light pine desk and points Alicia toward one of two chairs set against the table.

  'As far as I'm concerned I'm speaking to Ålandsbladet when I'm speaking with you.'

  Alicia nods in agreement.

  Ebba leans across the table and adds, 'But I have to tell you something off the record first.'

  She is looking at a screen in front of her and turns it around toward Alicia.

  'Or, rather, I have to ask you some questions.'

  'OK,' Alicia says. She's got her phone in her hand, with the notes app opened, just in case she needs to jot down some details.

  'Do you know this young woman?'

  Alicia gasps. The hair color and length are different, and her cheeks are a little less plump but the face is unmistakable. 'Yes,' she replies.

  'Thought so.'

  'What has Frida got to do with anything?' Alicia asks.

  'How do you know Frida Anttila?' Ebba asks.

  'She works as an intern at Ålandsbladet.'

  'And before that?'

  Alicia shakes her head, 'I met her for the first time the day after I started at the paper.'

  'That's strange,' Ebba says, staring at Alicia, as if trying to determine whether she is speaking the truth.

  'What is this? What has Frida got to do with anything.'

  'I'm asking myself the same question,' Ebba says. She turns the screen back toward herself and taps it.

  There is a silence during which Alicia stares at Ebba, trying to understand what the policewoman is getting at. Eventually s
he cannot stand it any longer. 'What is it?'

  When Ebba still doesn't reply, Alicia gets it. 'She knew Stefan ... and Daniel! She's the girl in your picture?'

  Ebba nods and turns toward Alicia, calmly eyeing her. 'That's why I can't quite understand how you didn't know her,' she says.

  Alicia sighs. She too, is amazed how she didn't get to know the young people Stefan hung out with during their holidays. Looking back, there was always the conflict between her and Liam getting in the way. He didn't want to spend time on the islands, while Alicia was always desperately trying to make him love her home.

  What a waste of time; I wish I'd never tried.

  'I don't know, but I just never met his friends here. He didn't have many, you know. We were always here when everyone else was away in their summer places, so Mariehamn was just full of tourists ...'

  Ebba puts up her hand as if to stop Alicia speaking.

  She leans over the desk again. 'I need to tell you something. But none of this can go into the paper. Or to be known by anyone else. Is that clear?'

  Alicia nods.

  'We have reason to believe that Frida and the deceased had a very close connection to your son. Several images from security cameras around the city indicate that they spent some time together in central Mariehamn last summer. Plus we have witness statements from a home where Frida's mother, Sirpa Anttila, is being cared for that say they visited her together on several occasions.

  'I didn't know,' Alicia says and gets up. She wants to go and talk to Frida. She'll get her home address from Birgit and pay her a visit.

  'Sit down, there's more,' Ebba says. Her expression is serious. 'We believe she is pregnant.'

  Alicia sits down. Her head is spinning. 'Sorry, what did you say?'

  Ebba shrugs her shoulders. 'I'm just telling you so that you know about her condition before you speak with Ms Anttila.' She gets up and adds, 'Of course, we need to speak with Frida ourselves first, but at the moment we cannot get hold of her. So if you do find her, can you ask her to contact us as soon as possible.'