by Sten, Viveca
As time went by, he felt more and more superfluous in his own home, to the point where he spent more and more evenings working.
Their mother ruled the family, leaving less and less space for him.
When had he lost his children?
THURSDAY, THE FOURTH WEEK
CHAPTER 67
Nora couldn’t take it anymore.
Henrik had phoned Monday morning to let her know he was going to work all week and come out to Sandhamn that Friday evening. They could talk then.
Nora had been on autopilot the past few days. She made food for the boys, took walks on the beach, bought ice cream as soon as Adam and Simon begged for it. She had no strength to argue with them. A proper upbringing would have to wait.
Finally she became too restless to stay on the island. If she did, she would go crazy pretending things were normal.
On Wednesday evening, she called her mother, Susanne, to see if she could take the children for a few days. Nora said she had to go into the city for work. As usual, her mother was happy to help.
Nora’s mother looked concerned but did not ask questions. Nora appreciated her discretion. If she’d asked how things were going with Henrik, Nora would have burst into tears.
And what good would that do?
Nora took a morning ferry into Stavsnäs and then the 433 bus to Slussen. Despite the winding road, she fell asleep and did not wake until the final stop. Then she got off and followed the crowd down to the subway.
The shabbiness of Slussen station surprised her. Slussen was one of the first built in Stockholm. The tiled walls were filthy, and Nora wrinkled her nose involuntarily at the scent of urine. She hurried to the platform, relieved when the train arrived.
Someone had left the free newspaper Metro on the seat. Out of habit, she picked it up, skimming an article on the Stockholm court system and the long waits for cases to make it to trial. It could take years for an abuse case to reach the court. During that time, the witnesses could forget what they’d seen or the victim could be frightened into silence. It didn’t surprise Nora, since the system was chronically understaffed, but it might upset people and undermine their trust in the judicial system.
And for good reason. It was unfair to make people wait so long for justice. Allotting the police more resources wouldn’t solve anything if there weren’t enough people to process the cases.
Nora remembered all too well her own time as a law clerk in Visby. Even then, there wasn’t enough money. The situation today clearly hadn’t improved.
Nora sat still with the paper on her lap. Stockholm District Court: the words felt like a sign.
She’d had a vague plan to wander the city, maybe go for a swim at one of the pools. She’d hoped to find peace for a while, to take a break from thinking.
Now another idea came to her.
As the train pulled into Central Station, she grabbed her backpack and got off. She took the escalator to the bottom platform where the blue line ran. She was in luck. The train pulled in as she arrived. She boarded and was at Stockholm City Hall a few minutes later.
She looked up at the stone building that towered above the station. Stockholm City Hall, home to Stockholm District Court.
It was an impressive building where many court cases of all kinds were handled. Here Clark Olofsson was sentenced to prison after the hostage drama at Norrmalm Square. Here one of the most elusive criminals in the history of Swedish crime, Laser Man, received a life sentence. A divided court suffering under intense pressure from the media had condemned Christer Pettersson for the murder of Swedish prime minister Olof Palme.
But other government offices shared the building. For example, the Financial Supervisory Authority, which oversaw cases involving procedures, like the appointment of bankruptcy trustees. The paperwork for each case was sent here, such as the inventory, the management reports, and descriptions of the measures taken on behalf of the bankruptcy estate. They were updated every six months—all here for safekeeping.
That meant most of Juliander’s cases should be here. Not exactly inside this beautiful building, but a few hundred yards away, in an archive built in the nineties at the corner of Scheelegatan and Fleminggatan.
Nora still had the list of Juliander’s cases from Thomas. On impulse, she’d shoved them into her backpack when she’d left Sandhamn. She felt bad about not looking at them sooner and thought she might go through them on the ferry.
She could spend a few hours here studying Juliander’s case reports in the archives. As a bank lawyer, she’d done her share of inventories and reports. She was no stranger to these documents.
And she longed for the chance to take her mind off Henrik and the Brand house. At Sandhamn, those situations consumed her thoughts. They started first thing in the morning and lasted until night.
Burying herself in Juliander’s paperwork would be welcome.
And Thomas would certainly appreciate her help. It was the least she could do after crying on his shoulder last Sunday. He was her best friend. For his sake, she could sacrifice an afternoon of work.
She straightened her backpack and headed off toward Fleminggatan.
CHAPTER 68
Nora opened the archive’s huge bronze doors and walked into the reception area.
Though the Courthouse Annex took up almost the entire block, only an unassuming awning marked the entrance.
Inside, visitors found an airy hallway dominated by a large spiral staircase.
Nora explained her errand to the young guard sitting behind a glass window. He wore a neatly pressed uniform jacket, though his hair hung halfway to his shoulders. A small peach-fuzz mustache made him look young, hardly capable of defending the government office against a violent intruder.
Through the bulletproof glass, she could see a game of solitaire on his computer screen. A half-eaten salami sandwich and a cup of coffee sat next to his keyboard.
“You need to go to Department Six,” the guard said. “One floor up, the fifth floor.”
“Where am I now?” asked Nora.
“The ground floor is the fourth floor,” the guard explained. “This building has underground levels, which makes this the fourth floor. You can use the elevator or take the stairs.” He gestured at the spiral staircase. “I’ll let them know you’re coming,” he continued. “Then you won’t have to wait so long. The door is kept locked.”
He smiled, and his tiny mustache wiggled. He looked ridiculous, but he meant well.
She thanked him and took the stairs. At the top she found a glass door with a sign for Department Six. A woman in her sixties opened the door.
“Hello, I’m Eva-Britt Svensson.” She held out her hand. “I’m the court secretary here.”
She wore a red pleated skirt and a white blouse. Her gray hair was so short it curled behind her ears, and her large, round glasses made her look like an owl. She definitely looked like a court secretary. Nora could have sworn that there’d been an exact replica at the Visby court.
She introduced herself and explained she wanted a number of files concerning bankruptcy cases. She took the list from her backpack and handed it over.
The woman wrinkled her forehead and then looked sternly at Nora.
“You really need all these? In one day? I hardly believe you can get through them.”
Nora nodded and smiled confidently.
“You must know that we can’t retrieve all of these at once,” Eva-Britt Svensson continued. “Many of these concluded some time ago. I’ll have to go get them from the archives. It can take a while.” She sighed heavily.
Nora took out her bank ID card.
“I’m afraid we have to look at some of these cases,” she said apologetically. “That’s why I’m here. I’m sorry to cause extra work for you, but it is extremely important.”
She did her best to sound authoritative, hoping no one would call the bank to check her story.
By law, every Swedish citizen had the right to access any public document a
t any government archive, but a good reason didn’t hurt. She knew what government employees thought of the general public whenever they tried to exercise their legal rights. Especially when the citizens were journalists who regularly demanded access to infamous cases.
Eva-Britt Svensson glanced at Nora’s ID.
“All right,” she said. “We’ll do our best to help.”
Nora gave her a big smile.
“Is there a place where I can sit down to research?” she asked. There was only one table intended for visitors beside the reception desk.
“It’s not really allowed, but since there’s so much material involved, you can use this room,” Eva-Britt Svensson said. She pointed to an empty room close by. “We’re getting a new notary in a month, so nobody’s using it right now.”
Nora set her backpack on the floor there and hung her jacket on the back of the chair.
“This reminds me of my own time as a law clerk in Visby,” she said, attempting to get on Eva-Britt’s good side.
It worked.
“Then you know the routine. What shall I start with?” Eva-Britt said. Before Nora even had the chance to reply, she’d decided. “I’ll get the two most recent case files first. They’re up here. It will take more time to get the others. You do remember that you’re only allowed two files at a time?”
“Yes. And how long to get copies?” Nora asked, careful not to push the woman’s patience.
“It depends on how many pages are in the file,” she answered. “We don’t have the resources to do it for you. You’ll have to use the copier yourself.”
She headed off to get the files.
Nora sat down in the empty room and took out a pen and a sheet of paper. The room’s one window faced the Klaraberg Viaduct. Its lush greenery framed the water, reminding her of the archipelago.
What did she expect to find here?
This might be nothing more than a waste of time. But she’d give it a try. She’d do her best.
FRIDAY, THE FOURTH WEEK
CHAPTER 69
Nora took the 433 bus to Stavsnäs. She’d spent all Thursday afternoon and Friday morning at the archive and hadn’t left Department Six until she’d looked at every single one of the files on Thomas’s list.
Reading them was monotonous, to say the least. Bankruptcy reports and half-yearly reports were formulaic and tedious.
That first day, she’d taken a break and gone to the corner grocery store to buy something to eat. A plastic-wrapped sandwich and a bottle of raspberry mineral water became her Thursday lunch.
The documents’ dry descriptions made her eyes water, and she couldn’t stop yawning. Still, she kept on. Something, something—she felt on the edge of grasping something important, but she didn’t know what. It was like a butterfly dancing out of reach. So she kept on plowing through the files, report after report.
The stack of files she’d read grew as the hours passed. Nothing seemed to deviate. Nothing caught her eye. Yet she was certain there was something. She just hadn’t figured it out yet.
She stayed at her parents’ empty house that night to avoid Henrik. But before that, she decided to see a movie. She went to a Swedish comedy and ate a big bag of popcorn, but afterward she felt a little queasy. The taste of the greasy popcorn stayed in her mouth for the rest of the evening.
She didn’t sleep well. In her dream, Henrik was at the hospital, surrounded by beautiful nurses, while she tried unsuccessfully to get his attention.
When she woke up, she felt teary, heavy, and not rested. It was hard to get out of bed, but she forced herself up and made a cup of tea. She ate a few crackers she found in the pantry. Her parents had emptied the refrigerator when they’d left for Sandhamn, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t all that hungry.
Then she made her way back to Department Six. Eva-Britt Svensson helped Nora with all the copying so she could finish up before the weekend. At the end of the day, Nora carried two large bags of copies out of the building.
The bags now sat at her feet on the hot bus. She’d found a double seat all to herself near the back.
The bus turned off the highway, passing the Wermdö Golf & Country Club, and the swaying movements made Nora sleepy. Before she knew it, she’d nodded off again, just as she had before, with her cheek against the window.
CHAPTER 70
Margit brought two cups of coffee and offered one to Thomas. She sat down next to him and drank half of hers right away. Thomas accepted the plastic cup, though he usually avoided coffee from the machine.
It was Friday afternoon. They’d gone over everything from every angle for hours.
They’d interviewed Martin Nyrén’s extended family. They’d visited his workplace and talked to his colleagues. It got them nowhere. The evening headlines agreed. A two-page spread detailed the police’s lack of success. A number of so-called experts commented on the state of the investigation and offered opinions on the police work.
Margit found a bag of boat-shaped raspberry candy. “Want any?”
Thomas shook his head. He wasn’t feeling well.
“I wonder how long it’ll take to get the numbers from Nyrén’s cell phone,” Margit said. “If they’re not here by Monday, I’m going to get them myself.”
“Kalle said they’re delayed because of all the summer vacations.”
“It’s a damned shame his phone broke. Otherwise, we’d already have what we want.”
“The tech guys said they might be able to fix it.”
“Yes, but in a week? Or even two?”
“Do we have that much time?”
Thomas gave Margit a worried glance. They needed a break in the case, and soon.
“What about Nyrén’s computer? Have they found the password?”
“They said they’d let us know when they do.”
“How hard can it be?”
Margit sank deeper into the office chair, bending a pink paper clip back and forth until it broke simply to distract herself.
“Carina hasn’t found any connection between Juliander and Nyrén,” she continued. “No business together. Nyrén worked at the Legal, Financial and Administrative Services Agency, and that agency is not involved with bankruptcies.”
“Well, they were both lawyers. They’re almost the same age. Maybe they were in law school together?”
“Kalle checked all that. No connection in the past. Nothing that can help us.”
Margit thought a moment. “Do you think Nyrén might have been having an affair with Juliander’s wife?” she threw out. “Maybe after all her husband’s philandering, she needed some comfort?”
“But then Juliander wouldn’t have died first, right?”
“No, perhaps not.” Margit sank deeper down. “She might still be the one who sent those messages to Diana Söder. Carina says they came from Internet cafés all over town.”
“That doesn’t help. The messages were sent from temporary addresses.”
“What don’t we see?” Margit asked. “What are we missing?”
Her phone beeped, and she looked at the new message.
“Well, they’re finished with von Hahne’s rifles,” she said. “The bullet that killed Juliander didn’t come from any of his guns.”
“He didn’t own a Marlin, so that’s no surprise.”
Thomas looked out the window. Clouds gathered, kicking off a rainy weekend.
“You don’t need a license to get a gun,” he said. “What about Laser Man? He went to Liège, bought a rifle on the street, and drove home without it being discovered. Same thing in Baltic countries. What are the chances someone bringing home a rifle on the ferry would be caught? Probably not even half of one percent.”
Margit had to agree.
Customs only intercepted a few weapons a year. Their main efforts went into narcotics and alcohol smuggling. Guns weren’t a high priority.
“No killer with two functioning brain cells would use a licensed weapon,” Thomas continued. “It’s too easy to trace
. Ingmar von Hahne wouldn’t be stupid enough to use his own hunting rifle. And he does know how to shoot.”
“You’re really focused on him.”
“There’s something he’s not telling us. I’m sure of that.”
Thomas couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew Ingmar von Hahne had a secret.
“If not him, then who?”
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have enough to bring a case against him.”
“I know.”
Thomas’s shoulders drooped slightly. His head pounded and his body ached.
“You don’t look so good,” Margit said.
“You’re right. I don’t feel well.”
He shook himself, but that didn’t help. He could feel his nose clogging up by the minute.
“I think you’ve caught Persson’s cold,” Margit said. “Go home and go to bed. You won’t be any use if it gets worse. Go on.”
Thomas looked at the clock. It was almost five thirty. He reluctantly agreed with Margit. He felt terrible.
SATURDAY, THE FOURTH WEEK
CHAPTER 71
“Hole in one!” Simon yelled. He threw his golf club onto the sand and danced in delight. His eyes shined, and he made the V for victory with his small fingers. Nora couldn’t help smiling.
“Did you see, Mom? Did you see?” he called out.
Adam, who hadn’t got the ball in after six strokes, was not pleased. He adopted a look of superiority and pretended not to care.
Nora and the boys had gone to play minigolf at the harbor between Sailors Restaurant and the swimming pool shaded by hotels. The twelve-hole course was popular with families on the island.
However, it was risky to bring Adam. He hated to lose, and when he did, he’d ruin the game for everyone else. He’d sulk the rest of the day when he got into that mood.
All morning, the boys had begged to go. Adam had assured Nora that he’d behave, and finally Nora had agreed to take them.
She needed something to do, anyway, since Henrik had changed his mind about coming out to the island as he’d promised. He’d left an abrupt message saying he was going sailing with Johan Wrede on the Swedish west coast. They’d have to postpone their talk.