The Scent of Almonds: A Novella

by Camilla Lackberg

  But now there was no more time left. Grandpa was dead. Matte’s only friend in the world was gone. The one person he’d ever felt safe with. Gone. And Bernard’s jeering smile provoked him. Signalling that Bernard was the one who had triumphed.

  Suddenly a great crashing sound rattled all the windows. The snowstorm had brought thunder! At that moment Matte realized what he had to do. But first he needed to rest for a while. He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. After only a few breaths, he fell asleep.

  ‘Well, that’s what I call drama.’ Gustav Liljecrona and the rest of the family were sitting on the white sofa and matching armchairs. From the kitchen marvellous aromas came wafting into the library, and Gustav’s stomach growled loudly.

  ‘I’m looking forward to lunch,’ he said with forced merriment as he took a sip of cognac, which had already begun to flow freely. On a weekend like this, all conventions had to be set aside.

  No one replied to his attempt at small talk. Bernard rubbed his throat and muttered, ‘God damn it, I’m probably going to have a huge fucking bruise. And how am I supposed to explain that at work? I leave to spend the weekend with my family and come back looking like somebody tried to strangle me.’

  ‘Matte’s always been unstable. I don’t understand why they didn’t realize that long ago. He’s a serious danger to everyone.’ Gustav shook his head as he swirled the cognac in his glass.

  ‘Do you think that …?’ Miranda hesitated but then went on. ‘Do you think that Matte was the one who …’ She couldn’t make herself finish what she had planned to say, but she didn’t need to. A glint appeared in everyone else’s eyes.

  ‘Of course!’ said Bernard, now looking considerably happier. He sat up straight on the sofa and continued eagerly. ‘My God. Of course it was Matte! He’s always had something wrong with him, mentally. And you saw how he attacked me.’

  ‘But … he and Ruben were so close,’ said Vivi. Her objection was dismissed by Gustav, who also suddenly had a zealous look in his eye.

  ‘Maybe that’s why. It makes it even more plausible that Matte would have killed him. Who knows how he perceives things in that brain of his. Isn’t it true that people are most often murdered by someone they know?’

  Bernard and Gustav nodded at each other with satisfaction. Miranda still looked uncertain. She didn’t seem convinced, even though she was the one who had first broached the idea.

  ‘But …’ she began, looking for support from her mother before she went on. ‘But … what motive could he have?’

  ‘Money, revenge, imagined offences. Who can tell?’ snorted Bernard.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Miranda, plucking at a sofa cushion. ‘I’m not sure …’

  ‘But I am,’ said Bernard, standing up. ‘I’m going to have a talk with Lisette’s policeman. He needs to have a clearer picture of how things stand. It wouldn’t surprise me if he turns out to be rather interested in this particular theory.’

  ‘But …’ said Miranda again. She was about to say more, but Bernard was already on his way out the door.

  She suddenly wished that she’d kept her mouth shut. She was actually quite fond of Matte. And he wasn’t nearly as off balance as they made him out to be. Good Lord, practically everyone she knew had suffered some sort of nervous breakdown at one time or another. And taking Prozac or whatever drug had become so commonplace that nobody even raised an eyebrow any more. On the contrary. Plus it wasn’t so strange that Matte had flown at Bernard. She loved her brother, but he could be incredibly aggressive. He had an unerring ability to sniff out people’s weaknesses, and then he took a perverse pleasure in pressing their buttons.

  ‘What will Harald and Britten say when they hear that Bernard has accused Matte of murdering Ruben?’ asked Vivi anxiously as she fidgeted on the sofa.

  ‘Who the hell cares what they say?’ replied Gustav, still swirling the cognac in his glass. ‘Matte is clearly an unstable and aggressive individual. It’s not much of a stretch to picture him as the most likely candidate.’

  ‘But a murderer …’ said Vivi, giving Miranda a pleading look.

  ‘I have to agree with Mamma,’ Miranda said, to her own surprise. It was rare for her to see eye to eye with Vivi, but for once they seemed to be on the same side. ‘I know that I was the one who planted the seed, but … no. Matte as a cold-blooded killer? That doesn’t feel right at all.’

  ‘Women!’ snorted Gustav, taking a gulp of the golden liquid before continuing. ‘You’re always so gullible. What do you think a murderer looks like? A crazy man with a big beard and lots of tattoos? Personally, I reckon Matte is more than capable of killing someone.’ With a smug expression, he leaned back in his chair, apparently thinking he’d had the last word.

  Miranda and Vivi exchanged a glance. Both sensed that this was not good. Not good at all.

  ‘Did we make a mistake?’ asked Britten quietly. She and Harald had retreated to the dining room to escape from the rest of the family for a while. Both Matte and Lisette had stormed upstairs to their rooms. Gustav and his family were in the library, no doubt gloating over all the commotion. And out of the corner of her eye Britten could see Martin Molin in the kitchen, talking to the hotel owners. Harald was sitting across from her, his face such an ashen grey colour that she instantly grew concerned.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she said, placing her hand over Harald’s. He smiled, but it was a strained smile.

  ‘Don’t worry about me.’

  ‘You know that I can’t help worrying.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Harald smiled again and then pulled his hand back so he could place it on top of hers. He meant the gesture to be reassuring, but it wasn’t.

  ‘I’ve made some fresh coffee. Help yourselves,’ said Kerstin as she went over to the sideboard to set down a tray holding a thermos jug and cups. Then she returned to the kitchen.

  ‘Would you like some?’ Britten asked her husband as she stood up and moved towards the sideboard. Harald nodded, so she filled two cups. Black for herself, and milk with two lumps of sugar for Harald. She’d spent years trying to get him to stop putting sugar in his coffee, but in the end she’d realized that it was a battle she couldn’t win.

  ‘You didn’t forget the sugar, did you?’ asked Harald, giving his coffee a suspicious look.

  Britten smiled. ‘No, sweetheart. I didn’t forget the sugar.’ They knew each other so well.

  She took a few sips of her coffee and then repeated her initial question. ‘Did we make a mistake?’

  ‘You mean with Matte?’ Harald stirred his coffee to dissolve the sugar.

  ‘With Matte and Lisette. She’s right, you know. We’ve neglected her. Matte always got so much attention, whereas she was forever being told to be a good girl and help out. We left her to manage on her own. But she didn’t – manage on her own, I mean. And she still can’t.’

  ‘What should we have done instead?’ replied Harald wearily, rubbing his face. ‘Matte required more from us. We did the best that we could.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Britten. Her eyes were shiny with tears. ‘Did we really do our best? Couldn’t we have tried harder? Tried to help them both? Given Lisette the time and the attention that she deserved? Now I’m afraid it’s too late.’

  Harald fixed his eyes on his coffee as he shook his head. ‘I suppose I could have worked less …’ he said. Britten realized that this was the first time she’d ever heard him mention that possibility. She thought of all the times she’d told him that he didn’t need to work so hard, sometimes pleading with him, sometimes shouting at him in anger. But now that he’d said the words out loud, she realized how unrealistic that would have been. Harald might not be the most brilliant of men – that was a fact she’d accepted long ago. But he loved to work, and to work hard. That was all he knew how to do, and he couldn’t live any other way. So maybe he was right. Maybe they’d done the best they could, in the circumstances.

  ‘What do we do now?” she asked, again putting her hand
over Harald’s.

  ‘We leave them alone for a while. Later, once we’re off this island, we’ll find some sort of solution. It’ll all work out.’

  They drank their coffee in silence. There was nothing more to say.

  Martin gave a start as another rumble of thunder sounded overhead. He’d always been afraid of thunder. It was embarrassing, now that he was a grown man, but there was something about the flash of lightning that illuminated everything with its horrible glare, and then the waiting … the waiting for the boom that he knew would follow. Silently he began counting after the lightning lit up the kitchen. One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three … ‘Pow!’ Martin flinched. Bernard had sneaked up behind him and was now smiling at him with that nasty expression of his. ‘Sorry. Did I scare you?’ He laughed. The real thunder rumbled, sounding more distant.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Martin dismissively.

  ‘When’s lunch?’ asked Bernard, turning to Kerstin and Börje. He made the question sound as though he was speaking to servants.

  ‘In half an hour,’ replied Kerstin, before going back to her work preparing the food.

  ‘Good. That means we have time to talk.’ Bernard motioned to Martin, who reluctantly followed him out of the kitchen. No matter how unpleasant Martin found the man, he had to admit that Bernard did possess a great deal of authority. It would be hard not to obey Bernard Liljecrona.

  ‘What’s this about?’ asked Martin in an attempt to regain control.

  Bernard cast a glance at Harald and Britten, who were sitting at the far end of the dining room, but he didn’t reply. With long strides he headed for the office, and for a moment Martin thought that Bernard was intending to sit down behind the desk and start interrogating him. Fortunately, he sat down in the visitor’s chair instead, giving Martin a challenging look.

  Against his will, Martin found his curiosity piqued. He took his seat behind the desk and raised his eyebrows, signalling for Bernard to tell him what was on his mind.

  ‘You saw what just happened,’ said Bernard, his voice dry and matter-of-fact.

  ‘You mean the … fight between you and Matte?’ Martin wondered where this conversation was headed. He had his suspicions.

  ‘Yes. You saw how Matte attacked me. And it was more or less unprovoked.’

  Martin questioned how ‘unprovoked’ it had really been, but he remained silent, waiting for Bernard to continue.

  ‘This is nothing new. Matte has had certain … problems.’ Bernard paused for a moment, then went on. ‘Harald and Britten have done their best to keep it under control, to hide it – and Ruben did his part, too. But the truth is, Matte has always been unstable. He’s even been locked up a few times … And, well … If I were looking for the most likely murderer in this group of people …’ He threw out his hands.

  Martin sighed. He’d been hoping that Bernard would give him something more substantial. The fact that Matte had psychological problems was not news, and it did nothing to move the investigation forward.

  ‘Do you have anything more concrete to tell me?’ said Martin wearily.

  ‘What do you mean, “more concrete”? He tried to strangle me! What could be more concrete than that? It was attempted murder, goddamnit!’

  ‘I’d say that calling it “attempted murder” is going a bit far. And even if it were, there’s nothing to link this incident to Ruben’s death. Besides, everyone has said that Ruben and Matte were very close. So why would he want to kill him?’

  Another crash of thunder. Bernard and Martin both flinched.

  Bernard grunted. ‘You can talk all you want about motive, but who can understand the workings of a sick mind? The fact that they were so close just makes it more plausible. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Martin, though he couldn’t muster much enthusiasm.

  ‘Love can so easily turn to hate. An unstable person like Matte can easily start imagining things, and who knows what he might have been thinking about Grandpa.’

  ‘Hmm … Doesn’t sound very convincing, in my opinion,’ said Martin, shaking his head. ‘I’ve made a note of what you’ve told me, but I’ll need proof before I put Matte’s name at the top of the list of suspects.’

  ‘All right, but I’m thinking of filing a formal complaint as soon as we get off this island. He can’t attack me like that and get off scot-free.’ Bernard leaned forward to glare at Martin.

  ‘You’re fully within your rights to do that,’ he replied, standing up to indicate that the conversation was over.

  Bernard’s response was drowned out by another loud clap of thunder, and this time it sounded much closer.

  Lunch was eaten in silence. While Lisette had sullenly re-emerged from her room, Matte remained conspicuously absent. The food that Kerstin and Börje served was both tasty and well-prepared, yet no one seemed in the mood to enjoy it.

  Martin wondered what Harald and Britten would say if they knew that Bernard had tried to pin the murder on their son. Not that he was about to tell them. He stole a glance at Lisette, who was seated next to him, her eyes obstinately fixed on her plate. She hadn’t exchanged a single word with him since she’d come downstairs, and he realized once more that they had passed the point where their relationship could be repaired. And that was fine with him. In the meantime, so long as they were stuck on the island, things were bound to be frosty between them.

  He leaned towards Harald and Britten who sat across from him and said quietly, ‘Have you spoken to Matte?’

  They both shook their heads.

  ‘No,’ said Britten after a glance at her husband. ‘We wanted to give him some time alone. He usually calms down after a while if he’s left in peace.’

  ‘Maybe we should go upstairs and look in on him,’ said Harald in a subdued voice.

  ‘No. Leave him be,’ said Britten, although she didn’t seem convinced. Harald didn’t insist, and everyone continued eating their lunch in strained silence. The only sound was the clinking of forks and knives on the china plates.

  Martin felt panic growing inside him. He wanted desperately to get out of this building and away from this island. Above all, he wanted help with the investigation, the assistance of someone more experienced who could advise him on how to proceed and point out leads that he had missed. Right now he had absolutely no idea who had murdered the old man. He was no closer to solving the case than he’d been the day before, and he was beginning to seriously doubt his own competence.

  ‘I think I’ll take a little afternoon nap after lunch,’ said Harald, patting his paunch.

  ‘That sounds like a good idea,’ replied Martin, stifling a yawn. There was something about the oppressive mood in the hotel, combined with all the food and drink he’d consumed, that made him feel extremely tired. Even though he’d already taken an hour-long nap.

  ‘I’m going upstairs to lie down,’ he told Lisette as he got up from the table. She muttered a reply but still refused to look at him.

  A short time later, as Martin was lying on the bed, he heard one door after another open and close. The other guests seemed to have decided to follow his example. The last thing he heard before sleep overcame him was the sound of rolling thunder outdoors.

  Britten awoke with a strong feeling that something wasn’t right. She tried to shake off her uneasiness, telling herself it must be due to an unpleasant dream, but the feeling remained. She sat up and listened. All she could hear was Harald snoring next to her in the bed and the thunder outside. She’d never known such terrible weather. Every once in a while it looked as if the storm might abate, only for it to get worse. She thought it must have been the thunder that woke her, but she wasn’t sure. She sensed it was something else.

  She lay down and tried to go back to sleep. But it was no use. She sat up again.

  Harald made a snuffling noise and turned onto his side. When he was sound asleep no storm in the world, no matter how loud, was going to wake him. Britten swung her legs off the b
ed and set her feet on the floor. She was wearing stockings, but she could still feel how cold the floor was under the soles of her feet.

  Worry about Matte suddenly struck her with such force that she almost felt ill. Her concern for her son was a constant in her life. It had started the moment he was born and had never ceased. What Lisette didn’t understand was that Britten felt just as worried for her as for Matte. And just as much love. But her feelings for her daughter had never been given full expression. Matte had required so much more attention than Lisette. And so much more effort.

  Britten sighed. Then she stood up and put on her cardigan. She could hear nothing to indicate that anyone else was awake. It was almost eerily quiet.

  Slowly she walked over to the door, not sure what she planned to do. Lisette had stretched out on the sofa in the library, and Britten didn’t want to wake her. She didn’t have the energy for any sort of discussion with her at the moment. Not when she was feeling so uneasy.

  Out in the corridor she made up her mind to look in on Matte. If he was asleep, she would merely stroke his hair, as she’d done so often when he was a boy. If he was awake, she’d have a brief chat with him, just to make sure that he was all right.

  Cautiously she pressed down the door handle to his room. Maybe she should have knocked first, but she was almost hoping to find him asleep. Britten wanted to sit on the edge of his bed and look at his face as he slept peacefully, to see how all the different faces that had come and gone over the years were mirrored in his adult face. Matte as a baby, as an inquisitive five-year-old, as an ever-curious ten-year-old, as a sulky teenager.