The Return of the Dancing Master

by Henning Mankell

  She listened intently to what he had to say.

  “You’re doing the right thing,” she said eventually. “I’d have done the same.”

  “We’ve got to fight against this lunacy,” he said. “Even if these people are harbouring a hopeless dream, they are spreading the madness further into the world.”

  She looked at her watch.

  “I know you have to collect your brother,” Lindman said. “Just answer me one question. Why did you let me sleep here?”

  She put her hand on her computer.

  “I said that this thing contains the whole of my life. That’s not really true, of course.”

  Lindman stared at her hand and the computer. He was listening to what she was saying, but it was an image that imprinted itself on his mind. She removed her hand and the image disappeared.

  “I’ll go now. What time’s the funeral tomorrow?”

  “Eleven o’clock.”

  He turned and walked to the door. He was about to open it when he felt her hand on his arm.

  “You’ve got to fetch your brother,” he said.

  His mobile rang in his jacket pocket.

  “You’d better answer.”

  It was Larsson. “Where are you?”

  “At the hotel.”

  “Something very odd has happened.”

  “What?”

  “Berggren has phoned Erik. She wants him to pick her up.”

  “Why?”

  “She says she wants to confess to the murder of Abraham Andersson.”

  It was 2.25. Monday, November 15.

  CHAPTER 31

  Larsson phoned at 6 p.m. and asked Lindman to come to Johansson’s office. It was cold and windy when he left the hotel. When he reached the church he stopped and turned quickly round. A car went by along Fjällvägen, followed by another. He thought he could make out a shadowy figure next to the wall of the building opposite the school, but he wasn’t sure. He continued to the Community Centre. Larsson was waiting for him outside the entrance. They went to the office. Lindman noticed that there were two extra chairs – one for Berggren, he assumed, and the other for her lawyer.

  “They’re on the way to Östersund now,” Larsson said. “She’s under arrest, and will be remanded in custody tomorrow. Erik is with her.”

  “What did she say?”

  Larsson pointed at a tape recorder on the desk.

  “A tape of the interrogation is on its way to Östersund,” he said, “but I had two tape recorders. I thought you might like to hear the copy. You’ll be on your own here. I have to get something to eat, and rest for a bit.”

  “You can borrow my hotel room if you like.”

  “There’s a sofa in the other room. That’ll do.”

  “I don’t need to listen to the tape. You can tell me what happened.”

  Larsson sat in Johansson’s chair. He scratched at his forehead, as if he’d got a sudden itch.

  “I’d rather you listened to it.”

  “Did she confess?”

  “Yes.”

  “The motive?”

  “I think you should listen to the tape. And then tell me what you think.”

  “You are not convinced?”

  “I don’t know what I am. That’s why I want to hear your reaction.”

  Larsson stood up. “Still no sign of Hereira,” he said. “We haven’t found the red Ford either. Nor the man who did the shooting. But we will in the end. I’ll be back here in two hours.”

  Larsson put on his jacket.

  “She sat on that chair,” he said, pointing. “Her solicitor, Hermansson, was on that one. She’d phoned him this morning. He was already here when we went to pick her up.”

  Larsson closed the door behind him. Lindman switched on the tape recorder. There was a scraping noise from a microphone being moved. Then he heard Larsson’s voice.

  GL: So, we are commencing this interrogation and note that today is November 15, 1999. The time is 15.07. The interrogation is being conducted at the police station in Sveg by Detective Inspector Giuseppe Larsson. The witness is Inspector Erik Johansson. The interrogation of Elsa Berggren is being held at her own request. She is being represented by her solicitor, Sven Hermansson. Would you please give us your name and personal details?

  EB: My name is Elsa Maria Berggren, born May 10, 1925 in Tranås.

  GL: Could you speak a bit louder, please?

  EB: My name is Elsa Maria Berggren, born May 10, 1925 in Tranås.

  GL: Thank you. Could we have your full Identity Number, please?

  EB: 250510-0221.

  GL: Thank you. (More scraping from the microphone, somebody coughed, a door closed.) So, if you could just move a bit closer to the microphone … Now, please tell us what happened.

  EB: I want to confess to the murder of Abraham Andersson.

  GL: You are confessing to have killed Abraham Andersson with intent?

  EB: Yes.

  GL: So it was murder, is that right?

  EB: Yes.

  GL: Have you consulted your solicitor before saying this?

  EB: There’s nothing to consult about. I admit to having killed him with malice aforethought. Isn’t that what it’s called?

  GL: That’s what they usually say, yes.

  EB: Then I admit to having murdered Abraham Andersson with malice aforethought.

  GL: So you are confessing to having committed murder?

  EB: How many times do I have to repeat it?

  GL: Why did you kill him?

  EB: He threatened to expose the man living nearby who was killed shortly beforehand, Herbert Molin, as a former National Socialist. I didn’t want that. He also threatened to expose me as a convinced National Socialist. And he also committed blackmail.

  GL: Against you?

  EB: No, Herbert Molin. He demanded money from him every month.

  GL: How long had that been going on?

  EB: Since a year or so after Herbert moved here. Eight or nine years, I suppose.

  GL: Are we talking about a lot of money?

  EB: I don’t know. No doubt it was a lot of money for Herbert.

  GL: When did you decide to kill Andersson?

  EB: I can’t remember the exact date, but after Herbert was killed he contacted me and said he expected me to carry on with the payments. Otherwise he would expose me as well.

  GL: What happened then?

  EB: He came to my house without phoning first and was very rude. He demanded money. That was no doubt when I made up my mind.

  GL: Made up your mind to do what?

  EB: Why do I have to keep repeating everything?

  GL: You mean you made up your mind to kill him?

  EB: Yes.

  GL: Then what happened?

  EB: I killed him a few days later. Can I have a glass of water?

  GL: Of course. (More scraping noises from the microphone, somebody stood up, then the voices started again. Lindman could see it all unfolding in front of him. Johansson was no doubt sitting closest to the table where there were several glasses and an open bottle of mineral water, and he filled a glass and passed it to her.) So, you killed him.

  EB: That’s what I’m sitting here telling you.

  GL: Can you tell us how it happened?

  EB: I drove to his place in the evening. I took my shotgun with me. I threatened to kill him if he didn’t stop trying to blackmail me. He didn’t think I was serious, so I forced him to walk out into the trees not far from the house and shot him.

  GL: You shot him?

  EB: I shot him through the heart.

  GL: So you have a shotgun?

  EB: For God’s sake … What do you expect me to have had? A machine gun? I’ve already said that I had a shotgun with me.

  GL: Is it a weapon you keep at home? Is it licensed?

  EB: I don’t have a licence. I bought it in Norway a few years ago, and brought it to Sweden illegally.

  GL: Where is it now?

  EB: At the bottom of the Riv
er Ljusnan.

  GL: So you threw the gun into the river immediately after shooting Abraham Andersson?

  EB: I could hardly have done it beforehand, could I?

  GL: No, I suppose not. But I have to ask you to answer clearly and directly to my questions, without making unnecessary comments.

  (A man’s voice interrupted at this point. Lindman presumed it was the solicitor. To his surprise the solicitor spoke with a very broad Småland accent and was difficult to understand. As far as he could work out, Hermansson had said that in his view his client had answered the questions in a perfectly proper manner. He couldn’t hear what Larsson said in reply as the microphone was moved again.)

  GL: Can you say where you threw the gun into the river?

  EB: From the bridge here in Sveg.

  GL: Which one?

  EB: The old one.

  GL: From which side?

  EB: The side facing the town. I was standing in the middle of the bridge.

  GL: Did you throw the gun or drop it into the water?

  EB: I’m not sure. I suppose I dropped it.

  GL: Let me take a different line for a moment. A few days ago you were attacked in your home by a masked man wanting to know who had killed Abraham Andersson. Is there anything you said at that time that you wish to change now?

  EB: No.

  GL: So you didn’t make that up to throw us off the scent?

  EB: It happened exactly as I said it did at the time. Besides, that pale-looking policeman from Borås … what’s his name? Lindgren … He was also attacked outside my house.

  GL: Lindman. Have you a plausible explanation for what happened? For why the man who attacked you wanted to know who killed Abraham Andersson?

  EB: Perhaps he was feeling some kind of guilt.

  GB: For what?

  EB: Because the murder of Herbert might have led to the murder of Abraham Andersson.

  GL: So he was right, wasn’t he?

  EB: Yes. But what did he know? Who is he?

  GL: Could it have been then that you decided you should confess?

  EB: That obviously played a part in it.

  GL: OK, we’ll leave that for the moment. Let’s go back to what happened at Andersson’s place. You said that you – and I’m quoting you word for word, I wrote it down – “forced him to walk out into the trees not far from the house and shot him”. Is that correct?

  EB: Yes.

  GL: Can you describe in detail exactly what happened?

  EB: I stuck the gun in his back and told him to start walking. We stopped when we came in among the trees. I stood in front of him and asked him one last time if he realised that I was deadly serious. He just laughed. So I shot him.

  (Silence. The tape was still running. Somebody coughed, the solicitor perhaps. Lindman understood why. There was something wrong here. It was pitch dark in the forest. How had she been able to see anything? Moreover Andersson was tied to a tree when he died. Or at least the police had assumed that he was still alive when he’d been tied to the tree. Lindman suspected that Larsson was beginning to wonder about Berggren’s confession, and was asking himself how to proceed. He was probably trying to recall what had been published in the media, and what was known only to the police.)

  GL: So you shot him from in front?

  EB: Yes.

  GL: Can you say roughly how far away from him you were?

  EB: Three metres or so.

  GL: And he didn’t move? Didn’t try to run away?

  EB: I suppose he didn’t believe I was going to shoot.

  GL: Can you remember what time it was when this happened?

  EB: Round about midnight.

  GL: That means it was dark.

  EB: I had a strong torch with me. I made him carry it when we walked into the forest.

  (Another short pause. Berggren had answered the first question that had worried Larsson.)

  GL: What happened after you’d shot him?

  EB: I looked to make sure he was dead. He was.

  GL: Then what did you do?

  EB: I tied him to a tree trunk. I had a washing line with me.

  GL: So you tied him up after you’d shot him?

  EB: Yes.

  GL: Why did you do that?

  EB: At that time I had no intention of making a confession. I wanted to make it look as if it was something different.

  GL: Something different from what?

  EB: A murder a woman could have done. I made it look more like an execution.

  (The second question answered, Lindman thought. But Larsson still doesn’t really believe her.)

  EB: I need to go to the lavatory.

  GL: Then we’ll take a break here, at 15.32. Erik can show you where it is.

  The tape started running again. The interrogation continued. Larsson went back to the beginning, repeated all the questions, but stopped in connection with more and more details. A classic interrogation, Lindman thought. Larsson is tired, he’s been working day and night for several days, but he’s still in complete control of what he’s saying, step by step.

  The tape stopped. Larsson had brought the interrogation to a close at 17.02. The last thing he said on the tape was the only conclusion he could draw.

  GL: OK, I think we can stop there. What has happened is that you, Elsa Berggren, have confessed to shooting Abraham Andersson, intentionally and after having planned it, at his house at Dunkärret on November 3, shortly after midnight. You have described in detail what happened, and stated that the motive was that you and Herbert Molin had been blackmailed, or threatened with blackmail. You also said that you threw the murder weapon into the River Ljusnan from the old bridge. Is that all correct?

  EB: Yes.

  GL: Is there anything you’ve said that you’d like to change?

  EB: No.

  GL: Is there anything herr Hermansson would like to say?

  SH: No.

  GL: I must now inform you that you are under arrest and will be taken to the police station in Östersund. Then a public prosecutor will make a decision about remanding you in custody. Your solicitor will explain all this to you. Is there anything you wish to add?

  EB: No.

  GL: What you have told us is exactly what happened, is that correct?

  EB: Yes.

  GL: Then I shall conclude the interrogation at this point.

  Lindman stood up and stretched his back. It was stuffy in the room. He opened a window and emptied the half-bottle of mineral water. Thought about what he’d heard. He felt the need to stretch his legs. Larsson was asleep somewhere. He wrote a note and put it on the desk. Short walk, to both bridges and back. Stefan.

  He walked quickly as he was cold. The path by the river was well lit. Again he had the feeling that somebody was following him. He stopped and turned. Nobody in sight. Although, had there been a shadowy figure dodging out of the light? I’m imagining things, he told himself. There’s nobody there. He continued towards the bridge from which Berggren claimed to have dropped her shotgun into the river. Not thrown, dropped. Was she telling the truth? He had to assume so. Nobody confesses to a murder they haven’t committed unless there is a very special reason to protect the real culprit. In such cases, the culprit is usually a child. Parents sometimes accept the blame to save their children. But otherwise? He came to the bridge, tried imagining the shotgun lying there in the water, then turned back. There was one question that Larsson had overlooked. Why had she chosen just this day to confess? Why not yesterday? Why not tomorrow? Had she only made up her mind finally today? Or was there some other reason?

  He came back to the Community Centre and passed behind it. The window was still ajar. Larsson was on the phone. Talking to Rundström, Lindman could hear. The library was still open. He went into the reading room and looked for the Borås local paper. It wasn’t there. He went back to the police offices. Larsson was still talking to Rundström. Lindman stayed in the doorway. Looked at the window. Held his breath. He’d been standing out there in
the dark and had heard everything Larsson said. He went over to the window, closed it and went back outside. Now he couldn’t hear a word of what was being said inside. He went back in. Larsson was finishing his conversation with Rundström. Lindman opened the window again. Larsson looked at him and raised his eyebrows.

  “What are you up to?”

  “I’ve just realised that from outside you can hear every word that’s said in here, loud and clear, when the window’s open. If it’s dark you can be right next to the window and not be seen.”

  “So?”

  “Just a thought. A possibility.”

  “You mean that somebody’s been listening to our phone calls?”

  “I expect I’m just imagining it.”

  Larsson closed the window.

  “For safety’s sake,” he said with a smile. “What do you think about her confession?”

  “Did it say in the papers that he was tied to a tree trunk?”

  “Yes, but not that a washing line was used. I also spoke to one of the forensic boys who examined the scene. He could see no flaw in what she described.”

  “So she did it?”

  “Facts are facts. You no doubt noticed that I was sceptical, though.”

  “If she didn’t do it, if she’s protecting the real culprit, we have to ask why.”

  Larsson shook his head. “We have to start from the assumption that we’ve got this murder solved. A woman has admitted doing it. If we find the shotgun in the river tomorrow, we can soon establish if the fatal shot came from that gun.”

  He sat down and started rolling one of his broken-off cigarillos between his fingers.

  “We’ve been fighting on several fronts these last few days. I hope that one of them can now be regarded as closed.”

  “Why do you think she decided to confess today rather than on any other day?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I ought to have asked her that. I suppose she’d only just made up her mind. She may even have had enough respect for us to have decided that we’d get her in the end anyway.”

  “Would we have done?”

  Larsson pulled a face. “You never know. Sometimes even the Swedish police catch a criminal.”