‘Where were we? Oh, yes, the teen years. Once again, that’s a time when it’s rather difficult to diagnose a person with Asperger’s if he or she hasn’t been diagnosed previously. So many of the usual problems of adolescence come up, but they’re often amplified and made more extreme by Asperger’s. Hygiene, for example, is a big problem. Many are careless with their daily hygiene. They don’t feel like taking a shower, brushing their teeth, or changing clothes. Going to school becomes problematic. They have a hard time grasping the importance of making an effort in school, and problems also continue in social interactions with schoolmates and other contemporaries. This makes it difficult and sometimes impossible for them to work in groups, a learning technique that is becoming more prevalent in high school. Depression is common, too, as well as antisocial behavior.’
Martin pricked up his ears at this. ‘What would you include in that category?’
‘Things such as violent crimes, break-ins, and arson.’
‘So there’s an increased tendency for persons with Asperger’s to commit crimes of violence?’
‘Well, it’s not that those suffering from Asperger’s as a whole are more inclined to violence, but the percentage is definitely higher than in the general population. As I said before, they have a strong ego fixation and difficulty understanding and involving themselves in other people’s feelings. Lack of empathy is a strong personality trait. To simplify somewhat, one might say that common sense is a concept that is lacking in someone with Asperger’s.’
‘If a person with Asperger’s …’ Martin hesitated, ‘was implicated in a homicide investigation, would there be a reason to pay closer attention to him?’
Eva took his question seriously and paused to ponder her reply.
‘I can’t answer that. Of course there are, as I said, certain characteristics in the diagnosis that lower the barrier that prevents most people from committing acts of violence. At the same time it’s an exceedingly small percentage of people with Asperger’s who go to the extreme of committing murder. Yes, I do read the papers, so I know what case you’re talking about,’ she said, cradling her coffee cup pensively in her hands. ‘It’s my personal opinion that it would be extremely risky to go down that road, if you know what I mean.’
Martin nodded. He knew exactly what she meant. It had happened many times before that people ended up being wrongly accused simply because they were different. But knowledge is power, and he still felt it had been very valuable to get an insight into Morgan’s world.
‘I’d really like to thank you for taking the time to talk with me. I hope the errands you had to postpone because of me weren’t urgent.’
‘No, not at all,’ said Eva, getting up to show him out. ‘A little badly needed renewal of my wardrobe is all. In other words, nothing that can’t wait till next week.’
She accompanied him to the cloakroom and waited while he put on his jacket, which was actually dry by now.
‘I’m glad I don’t have to go out in this crummy weather,’ said Eva. They peered out of the window at the rain that was still pouring down and making big puddles on the square.
‘Yes, it’s probably going to be autumn forever,’ replied Martin, holding out his hand to say good-bye.
‘Thanks for the lunch, by the way. And do call if you have any more questions. It was a pleasure to be able to brush up on a particular subject. I don’t often get a chance to do that.’
‘Right. Well, I’ll give you a call if I need to. Thanks again.’
17
Fjällbacka 1924
The delivery was more horrible than Agnes could ever have imagined. She had been in labor for almost forty-eight hours and was close to dying before the doctor finally leaned his whole weight on her belly and forced the first child out into the world. For there were two. The second boy soon followed, and the nurse proudly showed her the babies after they had been washed and wrapped in warm blankets. But Agnes turned away. She didn’t want to see the creatures that had destroyed her life and had brought her so near death. As far as she was concerned, they could give those babies away, or toss them in the river, or do whatever they liked with them. Their tiny voices tore at her ears. She soon covered her ears and bellowed at the woman holding them to take them away. In horror the nurse obeyed, and Agnes could hear people starting to whisper around her. But she didn’t care. The shrieks faded, and now she just wanted to sleep. Sleep for a hundred years, to be wakened by a kiss from a prince who would take her away from all this misery and from the two little monsters that her body had expelled.
When she awoke, she thought at first that her dream had been granted. A tall, dark figure stood leaning over her, and for a moment she thought it was the prince she’d been waiting for. But then she recognized Anders. The sight of the loving expression on his face made her sick. Did he think that things between them would be different now, just because she had squeezed out two sons for him? Take them, she thought jubilantly, and let her have her freedom back. For a brief moment she noticed how that thought aroused a jubilant feeling in her breast. She was no longer huge and shapeless and pregnant. She could leave if she liked, find the life she deserved, the life where she belonged. But how? Since there was no chance of returning to her father, where would she go? She had no money of her own and no way of obtaining any, other than selling herself on the streets. Even her present life was better than that. The hopelessness of her situation made her turn her head away and sob. Anders gently stroked her hair. If she had been able to raise her arms, she would have shoved his hands away.
‘They’re so beautiful, Agnes. They’re just perfect.’ His voice was quivering a little.
She didn’t reply, just stared at the wall and shut out everything else. If only somebody would come and take her away from here.
Sara still hadn’t come back. Mamma had explained that she wasn’t going to, but Frida hadn’t believed her. She thought it was just something Mamma was saying. Sara couldn’t simply disappear like that, could she? If so, Frida regretted that she hadn’t been nicer to her. She wouldn’t have fought so much with Sara when she took her toys, but just let her have them. Now it was probably too late.
She went over to the window and looked up at the sky again. It was gray and dirty-looking. Sara wouldn’t like living there, would she?
Then there was the whole secret about the old man, too. Of course she’d promised Sara to keep quiet. But Mamma said that she should always tell the truth, and not saying anything was almost the same as lying, wasn’t it?
Frida sat down in front of her dollhouse. It was her favorite toy. It had belonged to her mamma when she was little, and now it was Frida’s. She had a hard time imagining that Mamma was once the same age as Frida was now. Mamma was so … grown-up.
The dollhouse showed clear traces of being from the seventies. It was supposed to represent a two-story brick house, and it was furnished in brown and orange. Frida thought all the pieces were super, but it was a shame that there weren’t more pink and blue things in the dollhouse. Blue was her favorite color. And pink had been Sara’s. Frida thought it was odd. Everyone knew that pink and red clashed, and Sara had red hair, so she shouldn’t have liked pink. But she did anyway. That was how she always was. Contrary, sort of.
There were four dolls that went with the house. Two child dolls and a mamma and a pappa doll. Now she took the two child dolls, both girls, and set them facing each other. Usually she wanted to be the one in green, because she was the nicest-looking, but now that Sara was dead she could be the green one. Frida would have to be the doll in the brown dress.
‘Hi, Frida, do you know that I’m dead?’ said the green Sara doll.
‘Yes, Mamma told me,’ said the brown one.
‘What does she say about it?’
‘That you’ve gone to heaven and won’t be coming over to play with me anymore.’
‘How boring,’ said the Sara doll.
Frida nodded her doll’s head. ‘Yes, I think so too. If I knew
you were going to die and wouldn’t come over to play with me anymore, you could have had whatever toys you wanted and I wouldn’t have complained.’
‘What a shame,’ said the Sara doll. ‘That I’m dead, I mean.’
‘Yes, what a shame,’ said the one in brown.
Both dolls were silent for a moment. Then the Sara doll said, ‘You didn’t say anything about the old man, did you?’
‘No, I promised.’
‘Yes, because it was our secret.’
‘But why can’t I tell? The old man was nasty, wasn’t he?’ The brown doll’s voice sounded increasingly shrill.
‘That’s why. The old man said that I mustn’t tell. And you have to do whatever nasty old men say.’
‘But you’re dead, so the old man can’t do anything to you, can he?’
The Sara doll had nothing to say to that. Frida carefully put the dolls back in the house and went over to stand by the window again. Imagine that everything had to be so hard, just because Sara had died.
Annika was back from lunch and called out to Patrik when he and Ernst returned. He merely waved, in a hurry to get to his office, but she insisted. He stopped in her doorway, eyebrows raised. Annika peered at him over the top of her glasses. He seemed exhausted, and the rain had left him looking like a drowned cat. But between his baby and the murder of a child, he probably didn’t have much energy left to take care of himself.
She saw the impatience in Patrik’s eyes and hurried to give him her report. ‘I got a number of calls today, because of the media coverage.’
‘Anything of interest?’ said Patrik without much enthusiasm. It was so seldom they got anything useful from the public that he didn’t have very high hopes.
‘Yes and no,’ said Annika. ‘Most of them are from the usual gossips who call and pass on hot tips about their sworn enemies and all sorts of people, and in this case the homophobia has really been rampant. Apparently any man who works with flowers or cuts hair is not only automatically homosexual but is capable of doing horrid things to children.’
Patrik was shifting from one foot to the other, so Annika rushed on. She took the top note from the pile and handed it to him.
‘But this one seems like it might be something. A woman rang, refused to give a name, but said we ought to take a look at the medical records of Sara’s little brother. That’s all she would say, but something told me there might be something to it. Could be worth following up on, anyway.’
Patrik didn’t look nearly as interested as she had hoped. On the other hand, he hadn’t heard the urgency in the voice of the woman who rang. Her tone differed markedly from the poorly disguised malice of those who loved to spread gossip.
‘Yes, it could be worth checking out, but don’t get your hopes up. Anonymous tips usually don’t pan out.’
Annika started to say something, but Patrik held up his hands.
‘Yeah, yeah, I know. Something told you that this one is different. And I promise to follow up on it. But it’ll have to wait a while. We have more pressing things to deal with right now. There’s a meeting in the lunchroom in five minutes, then I’ll tell you more.’ His fingers beat a quick tattoo on the door frame, and Patrik walked off with her note in his hand.
Annika wondered what new information had come up. She hoped it would help the case. The mood at the station had been way too gloomy lately.
Niclas could find no peace and quiet to work. The image of Sara’s face wouldn’t leave him alone, and the visit from the police this morning had brought all his anxiety to the surface. Maybe it was true that he’d gone back to work too soon. But for him it had been a means of survival. It helped him to put aside the things he didn’t want to think about and instead focus his attention on ulcers, corns, three-day fever, and ear infections. Nothing mattered as long as he didn’t have to think about Sara. Or Charlotte. But now reality had mercilessly intruded, and he felt himself rushing toward the abyss. It didn’t help that his anxiety was self-inflicted. Too often, he couldn’t really understand why he did the things he did. Something inside seemed to keep driving him forward in a hunt for something that lay just out of reach. Despite the fact that he already had so much. Or at least he used to have so much. Now his life was in pieces, and nothing he said or did could change it.
Niclas leafed listlessly through the records in front of him. He always hated paperwork, and today he was having serious trouble concentrating. During his first appointment after lunch he had caught himself being brusque and impolite to the patient. Normally he was charming with everyone, no matter who came in. But today he hadn’t had the energy to pamper yet another old lady who came to see him about her imaginary pains. The patient in question had been something of a steady customer at the clinic, but now it was doubtful she would be back. His candid opinion on the state of her health had not been to her taste. Oh, well, such things no longer seemed important.
With a sigh he began to gather up all the medical records. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the feelings he’d been trying to suppress for so long, and with a single motion he swept everything off his desk. The papers fluttered lazily to the floor and landed in one big heap. Niclas suddenly couldn’t get his doctor’s coat off fast enough. He flung it to the floor, pulled on his jacket and ran out of his office as if pursued by the Devil himself. Which he was, in a sense. He stopped briefly to tell his nurse with forced composure to cancel all his appointments for the afternoon. Then he rushed out into the rain. A tear found its way into his mouth, and the salt called up an image of his daughter, floating in a gray sea while whitecaps danced on the surface around her head. His tears merged with the rain as he ran. Most of all he was fleeing from himself.
The coffee-maker chugged and wheezed but produced the same black tar as usual. Patrik chose to stand next to the drainboard, while the others took their cups and sat down. Everyone was present except Martin, and Patrik was just about to ask if anyone had seen him when he came dashing in, out of breath.
‘Sorry I’m late. Annika called and said there was a meeting. I was on my way and—’
Patrik held up his hand. ‘We’ll deal with that later. Right now I have some things I want to discuss.’
Martin nodded and sat down at the foot of the table, giving Patrik a curious look.
‘We got the results of the analysis of Sara’s stomach and lung contents. And they found something odd.’
The mood grew palpably tense around the table. Mellberg was looking attentively at Patrik, and even Ernst and Gösta seemed fully interested. Annika was taking notes as usual so she could send out minutes to everyone after the meeting.
‘Someone forced the girl to eat ashes.’
The room went utterly silent. Mellberg cleared his throat. ‘Ashes? Did you say ashes?’
Patrik nodded. ‘Yes. They were found in her stomach and her lungs. Pedersen’s theory is that someone forced them into her mouth when she was already in the bathtub. Some of the ashes landed in the water, and when she drowned she ended up with ashes in her lungs too.’
‘But why?’ Annika said in amazement, forgetting for once to take notes.
‘Yes, that’s the question. I already called and ordered an examination of the Florin family’s bathroom. Wherever we find ashes, that’s the crime scene we’re looking for.’
‘But do you really think that someone in the family …’ Gösta didn’t finish his sentence.
‘I don’t think anything,’ said Patrik. ‘And if some other potential crime scene turns up, we’ll have to go over it with a fine-toothed comb as well, especially if the search this afternoon doesn’t produce anything. The Florins’ home is still the last place she was seen, so we might as well start there. Or what do you think, Bertil?’
The question was rhetorical. Mellberg hadn’t been involved in the investigation at all, but everyone knew that he liked to encourage the illusion that he was in control.
Mellberg nodded. ‘Sounds like a good idea. But why wasn’t a technical examination of their
home already done?’
Patrik had to control himself not to grimace. It was bad enough that Ernst had pointed out the same thing earlier, but to have to hear it from Mellberg just made matters worse. It was easy to be smart in hindsight. If Patrik were to be completely honest, until now they hadn’t any valid reason to do anything but a cursory inspection of the house. He didn’t think he could even have obtained a warrant. But he chose not to point this out. Instead, he replied as vaguely as possible: ‘I think now is the best time, when we have something concrete to look for. In any case, the team from Uddevalla will be there at four o’clock. I intend to participate, and I’d like to take you along too, Martin, if you have time.’
Patrik glanced cautiously at Mellberg when he said this. He hoped that Bertil wouldn’t persist in forcing Ernst on him. He was in luck. Mellberg didn’t say a word. Maybe that whole issue was forgotten by now.
‘Sure, I can come along,’ said Martin.
‘All right, then. The meeting is adjourned.’
Annika had intended to tell everybody about the call she’d received, but they had already stood up so she decided to wait. Patrik had the note, and she was sure he’d deal with it as soon as he could.
But the handwritten note was in Patrik’s back pocket. Forgotten.
Stig heard the footsteps on the stairs and steeled himself. He’d heard Niclas and Lilian’s voices downstairs and knew they were talking about him. He carefully pushed himself up to a half-sitting position. It felt like a thousand knives slicing into his stomach, but by the time Niclas came into the room Stig’s face was without expression. The image of his father in hospital, helpless and small, languishing in a cold, clinical hospital bed, filled his thoughts. He swore once again that it would never happen to him. His condition was only temporary. It had passed before and it would pass again.
‘Lilian says that you’re feeling worse today.’ Niclas sat down on the edge of the bed, and put on his most concerned doctor’s expression. Stig saw that his eyes were rimmed in red. And it was no wonder if the boy had cried. Losing a child. Stig himself missed the little girl so much, it hurt. He realized that Niclas was waiting for an answer.
The Stonecutter: A Novel (Pegasus Crime) Page 20