The Stonecutter: A Novel (Pegasus Crime)

by Camilla Lackberg

  ‘Have a seat,’ said Mia, pointing to a chair across from them.

  He did as she said and took out his notebook.

  ‘Could you tell me exactly what happened yesterday?’

  Her hand holding the spoon began to tremble, but she nodded and related briefly what had happened. Patrik took notes, even though it was the same information that Annika had received the day before when Mia had called in her report.

  ‘And you saw no one in the vicinity of the car?’

  Mia shook her head. Liam, who apparently thought his mother was playing a game, shook his head frenetically too, which made it considerably more difficult to feed him the porridge.

  ‘No, I didn’t see anybody. Either before or after.’

  ‘You parked the stroller in the rear, you said?’

  ‘Yes, it’s more secluded there, and I thought it would be a safer place to leave him in the stroller. I wanted to take him inside with me, but he was asleep, and it seemed more trouble than it was worth to drag the stroller into the store. I was just going to be gone a couple of minutes.’

  ‘And then when you came out, you saw a dark substance in the stroller and on Liam.’

  ‘Yes, he was screaming like crazy. His whole mouth must have been stuffed full, but he’d managed to spit out most of it. The inside of his mouth was colored black.’

  ‘Did you take him to a doctor?’

  Again she shook her head, and Patrik saw that he’d hit a nerve.

  ‘No. I probably should have, but we were in a hurry to get home, and he seemed to be doing all right, except that he was scared and angry, so I …’

  Her voice trailed off and Patrik hurried to say, ‘I’m sure it’s not dangerous. You did the right thing. The boy does look like he’s feeling fine.’

  Liam waved his arms, as if to confirm what had just been said, and then opened his mouth wide for the next spoonful of porridge. There was obviously nothing wrong with his appetite, as evidenced by his plump double chin.

  ‘The shirt I called about yesterday, did you …’

  She got up. ‘No, I didn’t wash it, just as you asked me. And it’s full of that black stuff. Looks like ashes, I think.’

  She went to get the shirt. Liam stared longingly at the spoon, which she’d put down beside the bowl. Patrik hesitated for a second, then moved to the chair Mia had been sitting on and took up where she had left off. Two spoonfuls went smoothly, before Liam decided to demonstrate his car sounds, flubbering his lips so that Patrik’s hair and face were sprayed with mush. Just then Mia came back with the shirt. She couldn’t help laughing.

  ‘Look at you. I should have warned you, or at least given you a raincoat and a sou’wester. I’m really sorry.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Patrik wiping off a little mush from his eyelashes with a smile. ‘My baby is just two months old, so it’s good for me to get a little practice.’

  ‘Go ahead and practice,’ said Mia, who sat down and let him continue the feeding. ‘Here’s the shirt,’ she said, placing it on the table.

  Patrik looked at it. The whole front was black and filthy.

  ‘I’d like to take this with me. Do you mind?’

  ‘Not at all. Take it. I thought I’d just toss it anyway. I’ll put it in a plastic bag for you.’

  Patrik took the bag and got up. ‘If you think of anything else, just call the station,’ he said, handing her his card.

  ‘I certainly will. I just don’t understand why anyone would do something like this. What do you think the shirt might tell you?’

  He just shook his head. Patrik couldn’t say anything about the reason for his interest. As yet nothing had leaked out to the press about the ashes they’d found in connection with Sara’s murder. He glanced at Liam. Thank goodness it hadn’t gone as far in his case. The question was whether murder had ever been the intention; maybe something had interrupted the person with the ashes. But until they had the ashes on the shirt analyzed, they couldn’t say whether it was connected to Sara’s death or not. Although he was convinced they would find a connection. This was no coincidence.

  When Patrik got back in his car, he took his mobile out of his jacket pocket. He hadn’t heard from the team that did the search of Kaj’s house yesterday, and he thought that was a little strange. He’d had too much on his mind yesterday to worry about it, but now he wondered why they hadn’t reported back to him. Swearing, he saw that he’d turned off his phone on his way in to interrogate Kaj and then forgotten to turn it back on. The voicemail icon was flashing. He punched 133 and listened tensely to the message. With a glint of triumph in his eyes, he flipped the phone shut and stuffed it back in his pocket.

  Patrik had again chosen the kitchen as their meeting place. It was the biggest room in the police station, and he also thought the proximity to freshly brewed coffee would be an asset for everyone, given the situation. Annika had dashed off to the bakery down the street and bought a big bag of hazelnut balls, coconut mocha squares, and chocolate oatmeal balls. Patrik didn’t have to twist anyone’s arm; as he stood at the easel with the tablet, everyone was munching on some high-calorie treat.

  He cleared his throat. ‘As you know, yesterday was quite eventful.’

  Gösta nodded and reached for the last hazelnut ball, but Mellberg was too fast for him. The chief was already into his third pastry and clearly eager for a fourth. Ernst sat off by himself, and everyone carefully avoided looking at him. Ever since his disastrous decision to protect Kaj had come to light, a sort of doomsday shadow had hovered over him. Nobody knew when the axe would fall. All such matters had to be deferred as long as they were involved in the most intensive phase of the homicide investigation, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time. Including Ernst.

  All eyes were directed at Patrik. He went on. ‘I’ll sum up what we have so far. Most of this you already know, but it might be good to get an overview of where we stand.’

  He cleared his throat one more time and began writing notes on the big tablet as he talked.

  ‘First of all, we brought in the father, Niclas, for questioning and asked him about his alibi. We still don’t know where he was on Monday morning, and the question is why he tried to concoct a fake alibi. We also suspect child abuse, based on the information we received from the clinic about the injuries that his son, Albin, had sustained. The question is whether Sara was also subjected to abuse and whether it could have escalated to murder.’

  He drew a point on the tablet, wrote ‘Niclas’ next to it, and drew lines to the words ‘alibi’ and ‘suspected abuse.’ Then he turned back to his colleagues.

  ‘Then Sara’s playmate Frida came in yesterday with her mother, and the girl reported that someone she called a “nasty old man” had given Sara a real fright the day before she died. He behaved in a threatening manner toward her and also called her “double pawn.” Is there anyone who can explain what that might mean?’

  Patrik looked inquiringly around the room. At first no one answered, as they all pondered what such an odd phrase could mean.

  Annika looked at them, shook her head at their obtuseness, and then said, ‘He probably said “Devil’s spawn.”’

  It was so obvious that they all looked embarrassed.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Patrik, also cursing his own stupidity. ‘Sounds like we’re dealing with some religious fanatic. And Frida described the individual as an older man with gray hair. Martin, could you check with Sara’s mother and see whether that matches anyone they know?’

  Martin nodded.

  ‘Then we got an interesting report yesterday. A young mother parked a stroller behind Järnboden with her sleeping son inside. Then she went into the shop to buy something. When she came out, the inside of the stroller was covered with some black substance that the boy also had in his mouth. It seemed as though someone had tried to force him to swallow the stuff. I drove over and talked with the boy’s mother this morning, and she gave me the shirt that he had been wearing. The whole front of it is
covered with something that could well be ashes.’

  Silence descended over the table. No one chewed, no one slurped coffee. Patrik continued, ‘I’ve already sent it off for analysis, but I’m guessing it’s the same type of ashes we found in Sara’s stomach. We have a very precise time for when this … assault occurred, so it might be worthwhile to check alibis. Gösta, you and I will handle that.’

  Gösta nodded and picked the last shreds of coconut from his plate.

  The tablet was now covered with notes and arrows, and Patrik paused for a second with his pen hovering. Then he made one more point and wrote ‘Kaj’ next to it. It was obvious to all that he considered this final point the most important.

  ‘After we talked with our colleagues in Göteborg, it came to our attention that Kaj Wiberg is implicated in an investigation of a pedophile ring.’

  They all made an even greater effort not to look at Ernst, and he squirmed a bit in his seat.

  ‘We brought Kaj in for questioning yesterday and also conducted a search of his home, with the help of our colleagues from Uddevalla. The interview produced nothing concrete, but we view it as a first step and will continue our talks with Kaj. Using the material we’re getting from Göteborg, we’ll also see whether we can identify any victims locally. Kaj, as you know, has taken an active role for many years in working with youths in Fjällbacka, so it’s not entirely far-fetched to believe that assaults occurred during his years here.’

  ‘Is there anything to indicate that he might be linked to Sara’s murder?’ Gösta asked.

  ‘I’ll get to that in a moment,’ replied Patrik evasively, and Martin shot him an astonished look. They hadn’t had any luck developing any connection during the interrogation.

  ‘The search of Kaj’s house may have given us our first big breakthrough in the investigation.’

  The tension increased palpably, and Patrik couldn’t resist drawing it out a bit for the sake of effect. Then he said, ‘When they searched Kaj’s house yesterday, the officers found Sara’s jacket.’

  They all gasped.

  ‘Where did they find it?’ asked Martin, looking a bit miffed that Patrik hadn’t told him about this.

  ‘That’s just the thing,’ said Patrik. ‘It wasn’t in the main house, but out in the cabin on their lot where their son Morgan lives.’

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ said Gösta. ‘I could have sworn that weirdo was mixed up in it. People like that—’

  Patrik cut him off. ‘I agree that it looks bad, but I don’t want us to get locked into that theory yet. First of all, we don’t know whether it was the father or the son who put the jacket there; it could just as well have been Kaj trying to hide it. Second, there are too many other unresolved issues—for example, Niclas’s attempt to construct a false alibi—so we can’t completely ignore them. We have to keep working on all the points I’ve put up here on the tablet. Any questions?’

  Mellberg spoke up. ‘Excellent work, Hedström. It looks good. And by all means check out those other things you wrote down as well.’ He gestured idly at the board. ‘But I’m inclined to agree with Gösta. That Morgan boy doesn’t seem quite right, and if I were you,’ he said, holding his hand theatrically to his chest, ‘I’d pull out all the stops to clamp down on him. But it’s clear, you’re responsible for the investigation, and you’re the one who decides.’ Mellberg’s tone made it obvious to everyone that he thought Patrik had better follow his advice.

  Patrik didn’t reply, which Mellberg interpreted to mean his message had hit home. He nodded contentedly. Now it was only a matter of time before the case was solved.

  Resolutely Patrik went back into his office and got to work on the day’s tasks. The old fart could believe what he liked, but Patrik was determined to follow his own gut. Naturally, finding the jacket in Morgan’s cabin had also made him want to draw certain conclusions, but something—whether it was instinct, experience, or merely a hunch—told Patrik that not everything was as it seemed.

  25

  Fjällbacka 1928

  Standing with her back to the Swedish coastline, she closed her eyes and felt the breeze against her eyelids. This was what freedom felt like.

  The boat to America had sailed from Göteborg right on time, and the wharf had been full of people saying both hopeful and sorrowful good-byes to their loved ones. None of them knew whether they would ever see one another again. America was so far away that most people who went there never returned and were heard from only by letter.

  There had been no one to say good-bye to Agnes, which was precisely the way she wanted it. She was leaving her old life behind and setting off toward a new land. With her father’s check in her pocket and a fine cabin in first class, she felt for the first time in years that she was on the right track.

  For a moment her thoughts drifted to Anders and the boys. The church had been filled to the brim for the funeral, and loud sniffles had risen toward the roof in a sorrowful chorus. But she had not wept. Behind the veil of her hat, she had looked at the three coffins near the altar. One big one and two small, covered with flowers and wreaths. The largest wreath was from her father. She had forbidden him to come.

  Not that there had been much to put in the coffins. The fire had raged with such consuming heat that almost nothing was left. So the coffins contained only a few remains. The pastor had suggested urns instead, considering the state of the remains, but Agnes had wanted it this way. Three coffins that could be lowered into the ground.

  Some of Anders’s workmates had carved the headstone. One stone for all three, with their names elegantly engraved.

  They had been the sole victims of the fire. Otherwise only property had been destroyed, but the destruction had been extensive. The whole lower part of Fjällbacka, the part closest to the sea, was now charred and in ruins. Many houses were gone, and burnt pilings stuck up out of the water where docks used to be. But few had complained about the loss of their homes. Whenever they were tempted to cry about what they had lost, they thought of Agnes and the family that had been taken from her. Everyone from that part of town had turned up at the funeral, and their hearts ached when they pictured the little blond boys walking hand in hand with their father.

  But their mother shed nary a tear. When the funeral was over, she went back to her temporary lodgings and packed the few belongings that had been given to her. Charity. Being forced to accept alms was so distasteful to her that it made her feel sick, but she would never be at the mercy of other people’s kindness again.

  As she stood on the top deck of the ship, no one would have been able to guess that until quite recently she had lived a life of poverty. She had hastily acquired a small but stylish new wardrobe, and her baggage was the most elegant that money could buy. With pleasure she stroked her hand over the soft fabric of her dress. What a difference from the worn, faded clothes that had been her lot for four years.

  All that was left of her old life was a blue wooden box that she had carefully stowed in the bottom of her luggage. The box itself was not important, but its contents were. She had sneaked out the night before and filled it to remind her never again to let anything stand in the way of the life she deserved. She had made the mistake of trusting one man, and it had cost her four long years. After the way her father had betrayed her, she was determined never to let another man do the same. And she would see to it that her father would pay dearly for his actions. Loneliness was the highest price, but she also intended to make sure that his money flowed in her direction. She had earned it. And she knew precisely which buttons to push to keep his guilty conscience alive. Men were so easy to manipulate.

  She was roused from her reverie by the sound of someone clearing his throat. She was so startled that she jumped.

  ‘Ah, excuse me, I hope I didn’t frighten you, Madam?’

  An elegantly dressed man smiled suavely and held out his hand to her.

  Agnes scrutinized him with a quick and practiced eye before returning his smile and placing her gloved
hand in his. He had an expensive, tailored suit and hands that had never seen manual labor. In his thirties and with a pleasant, yes, even attractive face. No ring. This passage might be much more pleasant than she’d anticipated.

  ‘Agnes, Agnes Stjernkvist. And it’s Miss, not Madam.’

  Erica’s friend Dan had come to visit. Even though they’d spoken on the phone a couple of times, he still hadn’t been to the house to meet Maja. But now his huge body filled the hall, and he took the baby from Erica with the ease of an experienced father.

  ‘Helllllo, baby girl. What a little beauty we have here,’ he cooed, lifting her toward the ceiling. Erica suddenly wanted to snatch her daughter back, but Maja didn’t look like she minded. Considering that Dan had three daughters of his own, he probably knew what he was doing.

  ‘So how’s little Mamma doing?’ he said, giving Erica one of his bearhugs. Once upon a time she and Dan had been together, but the romance was long since over and for many years now they had been close friends. Their friendship had suffered a real setback two winters ago, when they both got mixed up in a murder investigation under unpleasant circumstances, but the passage of time had healed even that rift. After Dan’s divorce, though, they hadn’t seen each other very often. Dan had jumped into the single life and all that involved, while Erica went in the opposite direction. He had gone through a series of unsuitable girlfriends, but at the moment he was single and on the loose. Erica thought he looked happier than he had in a long time. The divorce had taken its toll on him, and he often lamented being separated from his daughters, but he seemed to have grown used to the situation.

  ‘I wondered whether you’d like to take a walk with us,’ said Erica. ‘Maja is starting to get tired, and if we take a stroll she’ll probably fall asleep in the stroller.’

  ‘A short one, then,’ Dan muttered. ‘It’s pretty chilly out there, and I was looking forward to getting inside where it’s warm.’

  ‘Just until she goes to sleep,’ Erica cajoled, and he reluctantly put his shoes back on.