Unspoken ak-2

by Mari Jungstedt

  “You seem a little out of sorts,” said Andreas after they had run through the usual chitchat about their work and various sports events.

  “Not really, just a little tired,” said Johan as he lit a cigarette, like everyone else in the place.

  “How are things going with your Gotland girlfriend, Emma?”

  “Good, but it’s tough, too, you know. With her husband and kids and everything.”

  Andreas shook his head. “Why are you getting mixed up with a married woman who has little kids? And who lives on Gotland! Could you make your life any more complicated?”

  “I know,” said Johan with a sigh. “But you don’t understand because you’ve never really been in love with anyone.”

  “What the hell to you mean? Of course I have. I was with Ellen for five years,” Andreas protested.

  “Sure, but what do you really know about love? You had your doubts the whole time. You were always grumbling about one thing or another. The fact that she was a vegetarian, that she was always late, that she was messy, and that she didn’t seem to have any plan for her life. And the fact that she kept studying and studying, but it never led anywhere and she never had any money. Have you forgotten about all that?”

  Andreas let out a roar of laughter.

  “Of course not, but do you know what she ended up doing? I ran into her downtown a month ago. Newly married with a baby on the way. She lives in Saltsjobaden and is head of a big advertising agency. And on top of that, she’s damn cute!”

  “You see? You never can tell about anyone!” said Johan, laughing.

  They started talking to three cheerful girls from Vastberga, and then they all continued on to Kvarnen, the legendary Sodermalm pub. Johan ran into some of his journalist colleagues and got into such an intense discussion about worldwide current events that both Andreas and the girls got bored and left.

  When Johan caught a cab home around three in the morning, Emma was once more on his mind. What was she doing right now? He wanted to send her a text message but restrained himself. They had agreed that it would be her turn to call next.

  SATURDAY, DECEMBER 1

  Olle had suddenly called and invited her home for dinner. Finally she would be able to see the children. It was not even a week since she had last seen them, but it felt like a month-at least. She had called the night before and had a chance to talk to them for the first time since she was thrown out of the house. Both Sara and Filip sounded happy and strangely unaffected, in spite of everything that had happened. She wondered what was going on inside their young heads.

  During the week various scenarios had fluttered through her mind. One moment it seemed right to get a divorce; the next she wanted nothing more than to be a family again, and she wished that she had never met Johan.

  In the middle of everything she became very aware of the fragility of life. She was surrounded by stage sets that were ostensibly solid, but they could crumble at any moment and completely change everything.

  At the same time, she was struck by her own stupidity. What was she thinking? That she could have an affair on the side, just to satisfy her own need for validation? She hadn’t realized that she was playing with fire.

  Was she prepared to sacrifice everything for Johan? She should have asked herself that question after the first kiss.

  Her husband had given her his love, he had taken responsibility, he had kept the promise he had made when they got married. But what about her?

  When he had reacted by throwing her out, the ground opened up beneath her.

  Right now she had no idea what to think. Except that she was eager for the meeting with Olle to go well. She was deathly afraid that he was going to do something final, such as handing her divorce papers. There was something in Olle’s voice when he called, a different tone that indicated something had changed. And it made her nervous.

  She felt like a stranger on the evening of her visit-a guest in her own house. Olle looked happy when he opened the door. He took her coat and hung it up as if this were the first time she had ever come to the house. The situation was absurd. Irritation was just seconds from becoming visible on her face. But then the children came running out to the hall.

  She was showered with soft kisses and fierce hugs. She loved holding their warm bodies close and breathing in their scent. Both children were eager to show her the gingerbread house that they had made with Pappa.

  “Oh, how lovely,” she told the children as they pointed to the towers and pinnacles. “It looks like a real castle!”

  “It’s a gingerbread castle, Mamma,” said Filip.

  Olle stood in the doorway. He was wearing an apron, his hair was disheveled, and he looked like a marvelous father. She felt an instinctive urge to give him a hug, but she controlled herself.

  “Dinner is ready. Come on, let’s eat.”

  When they had finished eating and the children were sent out to watch cartoons on TV, Olle refilled their wineglasses.

  “Well, I’ve been wanting to have a proper discussion with you. That’s why I asked you to come here tonight. I didn’t want to talk on the phone.”

  “Okay,” she said cautiously.

  “I’ve been thinking and thinking. At first I was so mad. I never thought you would do something like this to me. When I found that text message, it made me see red. I really felt as if I hated you, and I wanted to tell the whole world about what you had done. It was as if I’d been living a lie. How could I have been so fucking stupid and not suspected anything? It was all so damn crazy. Not to mention how I felt about that jerk from TV. So many times I’ve been on the verge of going to Stockholm to rip him to shreds.”

  He took a sip of wine.

  “But in spite of everything I realized that there was nothing to gain by punching him in the mouth. Maybe an assault charge, but that would undoubtedly make him happier than it would me.”

  Emma couldn’t help smiling.

  “My anger faded after a couple of days, and then I started to think more clearly. I thought about us, how we are together. I’ve replayed our whole life in here.”

  He tapped two fingers against his temple.

  “Everything we’ve done together and all my feelings for you. I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t want to. Get a divorce, that is. Even though you’ve hurt me terribly, because you really have. But no matter how bad it is, I realize that I’m also partly to blame for the whole thing. I haven’t paid much attention to you, I haven’t listened when you wanted to talk. Not that I’m excusing what you did, but that might have contributed to it. It will take a while before I can trust you again, but I’m prepared to try.”

  Emma was totally confused. This was not what she had expected.

  “Olle, I don’t know. It’s all so sudden. I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything. But at least now you know what I want,” he said and got up to make coffee.

  They drank their coffee in front of the TV with the children and then put them to bed. She left the house without voicing any decision, either to Olle or to herself.

  SUNDAY, DECEMBER 2

  Five days had passed since Fanny Jansson had disappeared, and there had been no progress. The girl was still missing. With each day that passed, the police became more and more convinced that there had been foul play. Knutas’s frustration grew. Not only did his mood get worse, his sleep was also affected. It was Sunday and the first day of Advent, but he was already awake by six o’clock. He had slept badly, with a hodge-podge of dreams. The dream images had merged into one another: Henry Dahlstrom with his head bashed in, Fanny Jansson wandering through the Botanical Gardens, Martin Kihlgard from the NCP chewing on pork chops served by Prosecutor Birger Smittenberg. Everything became jumbled together in his groggy mind, and he awoke exhausted, not knowing where he was or what time it was. He found himself staring at his wife’s ear and realized that the whole thing had been a dream. Maybe it was the wind that had made him uneasy. It was roaring and h
owling over the roof, whistling through the rain gutters.

  The weather had turned in the night. The wind was now coming from the north, and the temperature had dropped several degrees. Outside it was pitch dark, and snow was whirling in the gusty wind. Lina stretched out in bed next to him.

  “Are you awake?” she asked, sounding sleepy.

  “Yes. I was having such strange dreams.”

  “About what?”

  “I can’t really remember. It was just a mishmash.”

  “My poor boy,” she murmured, nuzzling the back of his neck. “It must be your work that’s getting to you. And look at this weather. Are you hungry?”

  She was mixing Danish words with Swedish. He liked to tease her by saying that she still sounded as if she had oatmeal stuck in her throat when she talked. But he had adopted quite a few Danish words and expressions himself, and the children spoke an odd blend of Gotland Swedish and Danish.

  When they sat down at the breakfast table he clearly noticed the pain. An aching, throbbing pain on the insides of his elbows, around his wrists, and at the backs of his knees, which confirmed the change in weather. It was a pain that he had lived with for as far back as he could remember. After the new weather conditions had gone on for a few days, the pain would vanish as quickly as it had appeared. There was no explanation for it, and no one in his family had experienced anything similar. By now Knutas was so used to it that he didn’t think much about it. It was worse when the weather changed from warm to cold, like today.

  He poured himself another cup of coffee. The uncertainty about Fanny Jansson was still gnawing at him.

  Some of his colleagues were guessing it was suicide. He didn’t believe in that theory, but as a matter of routine he had checked out several commonly used spots. One of them was Hogklint outside of Visby, a steep precipice with a sharp drop to the sea below. But their search had turned up nothing.

  As for the murder of Dahlstrom, they had made no further progress. The investigation had come to a stand-still, and the only positive thing was that the media’s interest in the case had begun to wane.

  The impasse meant that Knutas could afford to take a day off and spend it with his family. Christmas was right around the corner. It was Shop Window Sunday, and they had made plans to meet Leif and Ingrid Almlov to take a stroll downtown.

  Knutas had been looking forward to forgetting all about the investigation, but the Almlovs immediately started talking about it.

  “It’s so horrible, the story about that girl who’s missing,” Ingrid began as soon as they had said hello. “She works at the stable where my father has his horse, Big Boy. Actually, we own half the horse.”

  “We own it together, but your father is the only one who’s really interested. He was the one who wanted to buy it,” said Leif.

  “Well, it’s terrible, at any rate. What do you think has happened to her?” asked Ingrid, turning to Knutas.

  “It could be anything. Maybe she was in an accident, maybe she killed herself, or maybe she ran away from home. It doesn’t have to involve any sort of crime.”

  “But you think that it does?”

  Knutas didn’t reply. Lina jumped in and started talking about the Christmas decorations that had been put up all over town.

  The stores had made a real effort to create a holiday atmosphere. The wind had now subsided and the falling snow made everything look magical. Garlands of ever-green boughs were hung overhead between the buildings, and lights attached to the branches cast a warm glow over the streets. At Stora Torget, booths had been specially set up for the day, selling Christmas candy and handicrafts. Hot glogg and gingersnaps were available. The loudspeakers were blaring Christmas carols, and later in the afternoon people would gather to dance around the big Christmas tree in the middle of the marketplace. A fat Santa was handing out sparklers to the children. Even the smallest shops were open on this Sunday, and they hadn’t seen so many people crowding onto the biggest shopping street, Adelsgatan, since high season last summer.

  No matter where they turned, they saw familiar faces. They stopped to talk with people on every street corner. All four of them were well-known in Visby-Knutas in his capacity as detective superintendent, Lina as a midwife, and the Almlovs as restaurant owners. They went into a cafe to have hot cocoa with whipped cream and saffron rolls.

  Knutas’s cell phone rang. It was Karin Jacobsson.

  “We’ve heard from Agneta Stenberg. She’s the girl who works at the same stable as Fanny Jansson, but she’s been away on vacation. She came home today, and she says that Fanny has a relationship with that man Tom Kingsley.”

  “What sort of proof does she have?”

  “I’ve asked her to come in and talk to us. I thought you might want to be here.”

  “Of course. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  Agneta Stenberg sat down on the sofa in Knutas’s office, across from Knutas and Jacobsson. Her dark suntan was accentuated by her white turtleneck sweater. How on earth has she managed to get such a tan in only one week? thought Jacobsson.

  Agneta got right to the point.

  “I think that they’re more than friends. I’ve seen them hugging and carrying on several times.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I am.”

  “What do you mean by ‘carrying on’?” asked Jacobsson.

  Agneta squirmed nervously. She looked embarrassed.

  “It’s the kind of things that you notice. They stood very close together. You could see him stroking her arm. Intimate gestures that only happen between people if something is going on. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yes, we do,” said Knutas. “When did this start?”

  “They met on the stable hill and they’ve been talking to each other for a long time. It might have been in October that I noticed them hugging for the first time. It was near one of the outdoor stalls, a short distance away from the stable. It made me really uncomfortable, to tell you the truth. I mean, he’s at least twice her age.”

  “What makes you think that there was anything strange about it? They could just be friends, giving each other a hug.”

  “I don’t think so. When they caught sight of me, they let go of each other. And after that I’ve seen them hugging at other times.”

  “Did they do anything else?”

  “No, not that I saw.”

  “Have any of you talked about this at the stable?”

  “I mentioned it to a couple of people, but they thought it was probably just friendly hugging, that they were just friends.”

  “Why do you think they thought that?”

  “It’s because she’s so young. No one could imagine that a nice guy like Tom would be seeing her. Everybody thinks he’s so great.”

  “But you don’t?”

  “Oh sure, there’s nothing wrong with him, but that doesn’t mean that he might not be taking advantage of Fanny. She looks older than she is.”

  “Have you ever asked Fanny about her relationship with Tom?”

  “No.”

  “What about Tom?”

  “No. But maybe I should have.” She gave them a solemn look. “What do you think has happened to her?”

  Knutas’s expression was worried as he replied. “We don’t know,” he said. “We really don’t know.”

  Knutas called Tom Kingsley and asked him to come down to the station. He seemed reluctant but promised to be there within the hour.

  “Maybe Kingsley is the secret boyfriend,” said Knutas to Jacobsson as they had coffee and sandwiches while waiting for him to show up.

  “It’s possible,” said Jacobsson between bites. “But why didn’t he say anything about being close to her when we talked to him at the stable?”

  “Maybe he was ashamed. I would be if I was seeing a fourteen-year-old girl.”

  “If it’s true that they have a relationship, that alone would make him a suspect. If you’re thirty years old and you start having an affair with a fourteen-y
ear-old, there’s something seriously wrong. That much is clear.”

  Tom Kingsley seemed nervous and tense when he at last showed up almost two hours later. He was wearing his stable clothes, and Knutas was bothered by the horse smell.

  “I’m sorry about my clothes, but I’ve come straight from work,” said Kingsley, as if he had read their minds.

  “That’s okay,” lied Knutas. “When we met you at the stable the other day, you described your relationship with Fanny as superficial. You said that you don’t know each other very well. Do you stick by what you said?”

  Kingsley hesitated.

  “Yes… you might say that.”

  “But you don’t seem quite so certain anymore.”

  “That depends on what you mean.”

  Knutas felt a growing irritation. He found people who lied to his face tremendously annoying.

  “In what way?”

  “What does it mean to know someone well? I’m not sure.”

  “You said that you usually just chat a little.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So you don’t have any sort of closer relationship?”

  “Not really.”

  “We’ve been given information that indicates otherwise. We’ve been told that you’ve been seeing each other. That you have a romantic relationship.”

  Tom Kingsley’s expression darkened.

  “Who the hell has been spreading lies like that?”

  “We can’t tell you that. But is it true?”

  “Who the hell would say such a thing? They’re out of their minds!”

  “Just answer the question. Do you or do you not have a relationship with Fanny Jansson?”

  “That’s sick.” Kingsley shook his head. “She’s just a child, for God’s sake.”

  Knutas was about to lose his patience.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what we want to know, and we have our reasons,” he snapped. “Answer the question.”