Niclas nodded. 'I understand that you have to ask. We brought a list of everyone we consulted about Sara. We also contacted them and told them that the police might ring them and ask questions. And we told them they didn't need to preserve patient confidentiality, but to tell the police everything.'
Niclas handed the list to Patrik, who didn't doubt for a moment the veracity of what he'd just heard. But it still had to be corroborated.
'Have you made any progress? With Kaj, I mean?' Charlotte asked hesitantly.
'We're in the process of interrogating him on various points. Unfortunately that's all I can tell you.'
Charlotte merely nodded.
Patrik saw that Niclas wanted to say something else, but that he was having a hard time. He waited him out.
'With regard to the alibi…' He glanced at Charlotte, who again nodded almost imperceptibly. 'I recommend that you have a talk with Jeanette. She lied when she said I wasn't there, to get back at me for ending our relationship. I'm sure that if you press her a bit, the truth will come out.'
Patrik was not surprised. He'd thought that something sounded phoney in Jeanette's account. Well, they could deal with her when the time came. If necessary. Hopefully the question of whether Niclas had an alibi or not would be superfluous after this afternoon's interrogation.
They got up and shook hands. Then Niclas's mobile rang. He took the call out in the corridor and a perplexed expression soon appeared on his face.
'The hospital? Now? Stay calm, we'll be right over.'
He turned to Charlotte, who was standing next to Patrik in the doorway.
'Stig has taken a turn for the worse. He's on his way to the hospital.'
Patrik gazed after them as they hurried off down the corridor. Hadn't they suffered enough?
* * *
Arne had taken refuge in the church. Asta's words were still whirling round in his head like an angry swarm of hornets. His whole world was falling apart, and the answers he'd hoped to find in the church had not yet materialized. Instead it was as if the stone walls were slowly closing in around him as he sat on the front pew. And didn't Jesus up there on the cross have a sneer on his lips that he'd never noticed before?
A sound behind him made him turn round. Some latecomer German tourists came in the door talking loudly and frenetically taking photographs. He had always been annoyed by tourists who came here at all seasons of the year, and this was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Arne stood up and screamed, with spittle spraying from his lips, 'Get out of here! At once! Out!'
Although they didn't understand a word of what he was saying, his tone left no room for doubt, and they slunk timidly out the door.
Pleased at having finally put his foot down, Arne sat back down on the pew, but Jesus's scornful smile promptly propelled him into a state of gloom again.
A glance at the pulpit infused him with new courage. It was time to do what he should have done long, long ago.
Life was so unfair. Hadn't he been forced to fight an uphill battle ever since he was born? He'd never got something for nothing. Nobody saw his true qualities. Ernst simply didn't understand what was wrong with everybody. What was the problem? Why were they always looking askance at him, whispering behind his back, stealing the opportunities that should have been his? That's how it had always been. Even in grade school they had ganged up on him. The girls had giggled and the boys had given him thrashings on the way home from school. Not even when his father fell and landed on a pitchfork did he get any sympathy. Instead he knew what the people in all the houses were saying with their tattling tongues. That his poor mother probably had something to do with it. They simply had no shame in what they said.
He'd always believed that things would be better as soon as he left school. When he got out in the real world. He had chosen to become a policeman because he would have a chance to show himself as the powerful man he was. But after twenty-five years on the force he had to admit that things hadn't quite gone the way he'd planned. Yet never before had he been in such deep shit as he was now. He just couldn't have imagined that Kaj would have had anything to do with such things. They played cards together, after all. Kaj was a great pal and one of the few people who actually wanted to hang out with him. And they'd heard stories about how unfounded accusations had destroyed the lives of innocent men. So when Ernst got a chance to do a mate a favour, of course he had done it. That was nothing to hold against him, was it? He'd had the best of intentions when he neglected to report that call from Göteborg, but nobody seemed to understand. And now everything had blown up in his face. Why did he always have such fucking bad luck? He was smart enough to realize that the boy's suicide yesterday was going to add insult to injury.
But as he sat there in his office, banished to solitude like a prisoner in Siberia, Ernst had a flash of genius. He knew precisely how he could turn the situation to his own advantage. He intended to become the hero of the day, and once and for all show that whippersnapper Hedström who was the most experienced cop on the force. Hedström had probably noticed how he'd rolled his eyes at the meeting, when Mellberg had pointed out that they probably ought to take a closer look at the village idiot. But one man's meat is another man's poison. If Hedström couldn't put two and two together to solve the murder, then Ernst would just have to jump in and do it for him. It was obvious to anyone that Morgan was the guilty party, and the fact that the girl's jacket was found at his home removed any remaining doubt.
What appealed to Ernst most was the brilliant simplicity of his plan. He would bring Morgan in for questioning, get him to confess in no time, and thereby arrest the murderer. At the same time he could show Mellberg that he, Ernst, certainly did listen to what a superior said, while Hedström was not only incompetent but also insubordinate. After that he would surely be taken into the chief's good graces again.
He got up and walked to the door, displaying more energy than usual. Now it was up to him to do some high-quality police work. He looked up and down the corridor to make sure that nobody was watching as he slipped out, but the coast was clear.
* * *
GÖTEBORG 1957
Mary felt nothing as she stood there in the pouring rain. Neither hatred nor joy. Only a cold emptiness that filled her whole body, from the outermost layer of skin down to the white bones of her skeleton.
Her mother was sobbing next to her. She was more stylish than usual. The black funeral dress looked good on her. No one could ignore the dramatic effect of her beauty. With a trembling hand she let a single red rose fall onto her husband's coffin and then threw herself sobbing into Per-Erik's arms. Just behind him stood his wife, sympathy written all over the plain features of her face, thanks to her total ignorance of how often her husband had slept with the woman who was now wetting his lapels with her tears.
Mary watched with an aching heart, wishing her mother had chosen instead to seek solace in her embrace. Dismissed once again. Rejected once again. Doubt descended on her with full force, but she forced herself to push it away. She couldn't start questioning everything now; if she did she would go under.
The rain was cold against her cheeks, but her face betrayed no emotion. With stiff legs she walked the few steps up to the hole in the ground and tried to make her fingers hold out the rose in her hand. The monster stirred inside her, coaxing her, making her raise her arm and hold the rose over the shiny black coffin down there in the hole. Then she saw her fingers as if in slow motion let go of the spiny stalk, and with unbearable slowness the flower floated down towards the hard surface. She thought she heard a loud echo when it struck the wood, but no one else seemed to react, so the sound must have been all in her head.
She stood there for what seemed like an eternity before she felt a light touch on her elbow. Per-Erik's wife smiled gently to her and nodded that it was time to go. Before them walked the rest of the funeral cortege, led by Agnes and Per-Erik. He had his arm around Mother's shoulders and she was leaning against him.
>
Mary glanced at the woman next to her and wondered scornfully how she could be so stupid and naive not to see the aura of sexual tension surrounding the couple in front of her. Mary was only thirteen, but she could see it as clearly as the falling rain. Well, that stupid woman would soon find out what reality looked like.
Sometimes she felt so much older than thirteen. She regarded the foolishness of humanity with a contempt that far exceeded that of a normal thirteen-year-old - but then she'd had an excellent teacher. Mother had taught her that everyone was only interested in tending to their own desires, and that a person had to take care of getting what she wanted in life. Nothing should ever stand in the way, Mother had intoned, and Mary had been a splendid student. Now she felt wise and experienced and ready to be given the respect she deserved from Mother. After all, she had proven how far her love reached. Hadn't she made the ultimate sacrifice for her mother? Now she would get that love back with interest, she knew it. She would never again have to sit in the dark cellar and watch the monster grow.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Per-Erik watching her with a concerned look on his face. She discovered that she had a broad smile on her lips and quickly stifled it. It was important to maintain appearances. That's what Mother always said. And Mother was always right.
* * *
The sound of the sirens could be heard from far away. Stig wanted to sit up and protest, demand that they turn the ambulance around and drive him home. But his limbs refused to obey him, and when he tried to speak only a croaking sound came from his lips. Lilian's worried face hovered above him. 'Shh, don't try to talk. Save your energy. We'll be in Uddevalla soon.'
Reluctantly he gave up any attempt to struggle. He hadn't the energy. The pain was still there, and now it was worse than ever.
It had happened so fast. In the morning he had felt quite well and had even managed to eat a little. But then the pain level had risen more and more, and finally it became unbearable. When Lilian came upstairs with morning tea, he was no longer able to speak, and she had dropped the tray in fright. Then the whole circus started up. The sound of sirens outside, stomping on the stairs, hands that carefully lifted him onto a gurney and loaded him into an ambulance. Followed by a high-speed drive, though he was only vaguely aware of it.
The fear of landing in hospital was even worse than the pain he felt. In his mind he saw over and over the image of his father as he lay in the hospital bed, so small and pitiful, so different from the boisterous, happy man who used to lift him up in the air when he was little and affectionately wrestled with him when he was older. Now Stig knew that he was going to die. If he ended up in hospital it was only a matter of time.
He wished he could raise his hand and stroke Lilian's cheek.
Such a brief time they'd had together. Sure, they'd had their quarrels and bad patches, when he thought they might even go their separate ways, but they had managed to find their way back to each other. Now she would have to find someone else to grow old with.
He would also miss Charlotte and the children. The child, he corrected himself, and felt a pang in his heart, a pain that was more than physical. It was the only positive thing he could see about what had happened. He was firmly convinced that there was life after death, a better place. Maybe he could meet the girl there and find out what actually happened on that morning.
He felt Lilian's hand on his cheek. Unconsciousness began to dissolve reality, and he gratefully shut his eyes. It would be pleasant at least to escape from the pain.
The wind whipped at him as he walked towards Morgan's little cabin. Ernst's enthusiasm had dissipated somewhat on the way over, but he was now excited again, now that he had his prey within reach.
An authoritative knock would launch his road to victory, and it was rewarded a few seconds later with the sound of footsteps inside. Morgan's thin face appeared in the doorway, and in his odd, monotone voice he said, 'What do you want?'
His direct question took Ernst by surprise, and he had to regroup mentally for a moment before he spoke. 'You have to come with me to the police station.'
'Why?' Morgan asked, and Ernst felt irritation creeping over him. What a bizarre person this guy was.
'Because we need to talk to you about a few things.'
'You took my computers. I don't have my computers anymore. You took them,' Morgan chanted, and Ernst saw an opportunity open up.
'Precisely, and that's why you have to come with me. So we can give you back your computers. We're finished with them, you see.' Ernst was incredibly pleased with his stroke of genius.
'Why can't you bring them here? You took them from here.'
'Do you want the computers or not?' Ernst exploded. His patience was now seriously starting to wear thin.
After a moment of hesitation and some internal deliberation, the prospect of getting his computers back conquered Morgan's reluctance to venture into uncharted territory.
'I'll come along. So that I can pick up my computers.'
'Fine. Good boy,' said Ernst, smiling to himself as Morgan went to fetch his jacket.
They sat in silence during the whole trip to the station. Morgan stared out of the window on his side, and Ernst saw no reason to engage in small talk. He was saving his ammunition for the official interview. Then he would no doubt get the idiot to talk.
Once they arrived at the station one tiny dilemma remained. How was Ernst going to get the interrogation subject inside without any of the others noticing what he was up to? Such a discovery would ruin his whole brilliant plan; that must not happen under any circumstances. Finally he came up with a fool-proof idea. From his mobile he rang to the reception, and in a disguised voice he told Annika that he had a package to deliver to the rear entrance. He waited a few seconds, keeping a tight grip on Morgan, then with his heart in his throat he led the way to the main entrance, hoping that Annika had hurried off to the other end of the station. It worked. She wasn't in her usual spot. Ernst quickly pulled Morgan past the reception and into the nearest interview room. He closed the door behind him and locked it, then permitted himself a little triumphant smile before he invited Morgan to sit down on one of the chairs. Someone had left a window half open to air the place out. It was unhooked and flapping in the breeze. Ernst ignored the noise. He wanted to get started as soon as possible before someone tried to poke their head in here.
'So-o-o, my friend, here we are.' Ernst made a big production out of turning on the tape recorder.
Morgan's eyes had begun to wander. Something told him that everything was not as it should be.
'You're not my friend,' he said matter-of-factly. 'We don't know each other, so how could you be my friend? Friends know each other.' After a moment's pause he went on. 'I'm supposed to pick up my computers. That's why I came here. You said that my computers were ready.'
'I did say that, yes,' said Ernst with a sneer. 'But you see, I lied. And you're right about one thing: I'm not your friend. Right now I'm your worst enemy.' A bit dramatic perhaps, but Ernst was cruelly pleased with that line. He recalled hearing it once in a film.
'I don't want to be here anymore,' said Morgan and began looking towards the door. 'I want my computers back and I want to go home.'
'You can forget about that. It'll be a long time before you're going to see your home again.' Damn, he was good. He really ought to write screenplays for American action films. He went on. 'We found her jacket in your cabin, and we have plenty of other forensic evidence showing you were the one who murdered her.' Pure lies, the latter statement, but Morgan didn't know that. And in this game there were no rules.
'But I didn't kill her. Even though I wanted to sometimes,' he added tonelessly.
Ernst felt his heart leap. This was going better than he'd ever imagined.
'It's no use trying to feed me those lies. We have other forensic evidence and we have the jacket, so we don't really need anything else. But it's clear, it would be better for you if you told me how you did it. Then maybe you wo
n't have to do life in prison. You won't be able to have any computers in there.'
Now he saw for the first time a genuine emotion in the idiot's face. Good, it looked like panic was starting to set in. Then he'd be softened up soon. But to improve the situation even more he would try a little trick he'd learned from NYPD Blue and the other cop shows from the States that he followed slavishly. He would leave the guy to sweat it out all alone for a while. If he was given time to think about his situation he would confess quicker than Ernst could say 'Andy Sipowicz'.
'I have to go take a piss. We'll continue this conversation in a moment.' He turned his back on Morgan and started towards the door.
Morgan was now babbling incessantly in an entreating tone. 'I didn't do it. I can't sit in prison for the rest of my life. I didn't kill her. I don't know how the jacket ended up at my place. She was wearing it when she went into her house. Please, don't leave me here. Get my mamma, I want to talk to Mamma. Mamma can work all this out, please
Ernst quickly shut the door behind him so the idiot's babble wouldn't be heard out in the corridor. After a couple of steps Annika caught sight of him and gave him a suspicious look.
'What were you doing in there?'
'Oh, I was just checking something. I thought I left my wallet in one of the interview rooms.'
She didn't look as though she believed him, but let it go. The next second she looked out of the window and cried, 'What in the world?'
'What is it?' said Ernst, feeling a sudden pang of uneasiness in his stomach.
'A guy just climbed out one of the windows and now he's running towards the highway.'
'What the hell!' Ernst almost dislocated his shoulder as he slammed against the door, in his haste forgetting that it was always locked.
'Open the door, for God's sake!' he yelled at Annika, and she obeyed in fright. He tore open the second door and dashed out after Morgan. He saw Morgan look back and run even faster. In horror Ernst saw a black mini-van approaching at speed.
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