She was aware that it was a selfish feeling, but she couldn’t help being happy that she was no longer alone. It felt like an eternity since she’d had the company of another person, but she didn’t believe it would last more than a couple of days. It was so hard to keep track of time down here in the dark. Time was something that only existed up above. In the light. Down here, time was an enemy. It made her aware that there was another life which by now might have passed her by.
When the girl’s sobbing ebbed away, a flood of questions began. She had no answers to give her. Instead she tried to explain the importance ofsubmitting, not fighting against the evil. But the girl didn’t want to understand. She cried and asked questions, pleaded and prayed to a God in whom she had never for an instant believed, other than maybe long ago in her childhood. Because for the first time she found herself hoping that she was wrong, that there really was a God. Otherwise how would life seem to the baby, without either a mother or God to turn to? It was for her daughter’s sake that she had given in to the fear, immersed herself in it. The other girl’s urge to fight it began to arouse her anger. Over and over again shetriedtoexplainthatitwouldn’t doanygood, butthegirlwouldn’t listen. Soon the girl would infect her with her fighting spirit, and then it wouldn’t be long before hope also returned and made her vulnerable.
She heard the hatch being opened and the steps approaching. She quickly shoved the girl away, who’d been lying with her head her lap. Maybe she would be lucky. Maybe he would hurt the other girl instead of her this time.
The silence was deafening. Jenny’s chatter usually filled the entire small space of the caravan, but now there was only silence. They sat across from each other at the little table, enclosed in their separate bubbles. Each of them lost in a world of memories.
Seventeen years flickered quickly like in some sort of internal film. Kerstin felt the weight of Jenny’s little newborn body in her arms. Unconsciously she formed her arms into a cradle. The baby grew and after a while everything seemed to go so fast. Much too fast. Why had they spent so much of their precious time bickering and squabbling? If only she had known what was going to happen, she wouldn’t have said a single mean word to Jenny. Sitting at the table with a hole in her heart, she swore that if everything ended well, she would never raise her voice to her daughter again.
Bo looked like a mirror image of his wife’s own internal chaos. In only a couple of days he had aged ten years, and his face was furrowed and dejected. Now was the time when they ought to be reaching out to each other, leaning on each other, but terror had paralyzed both of them.
His hands on the table were shaking. Bo clasped them in an attempt to quiet the trembling, but unfolded them quickly because it looked like he was praying. So far he had refused to call on any higher powers. That would force him to admit what he had not yet dared confront. He clung to a vain hope that his daughter was off on some innocent adventure. But deep inside he knew that too much time had passed for that to be plausible. Jenny was altogether too considerate and too loving to inflict such worry on her parents deliberately. They had certainly had their quarrels, especially the past two years, but he had always been secure in the knowledge of the strong bond that existed between them. He knew that Jenny loved them. The only answer to why she hadn’t come home had to be something dreadful. Something had happened. Someone had done something to their beloved Jenny. He tried to break the silence. But his voice failed him and he had to clear his throat before he could go on.
‘Shall we ring the police again and hear if they’ve made any progress?’
Kerstin shook her head. ‘We’ve already called them twice today. We’ll hear from them if they find out anything.’
‘But we can’t just sit here, damn it.’ He jumped up, striking his head on the cabinet above. ‘It’s so effing cramped here! Why did we have to force her to come on a bloody caravan holiday again? She didn’t want to come. If only we’d stayed home instead. Let her hang out with her friends instead of forcing her to sit cooped up here with us in this bloody hole!’
He started pounding on the cabinet. Kerstin let him be. When his rage turned to tears she got up without a word and put her arms around him. They stood there in silence for a long time, united in their terror and a rising sense of grief which they couldn’t ward off, despite all their efforts to cling to hope.
Kerstin could still feel the weight of the baby in her arms.
This time the sun was shining when Patrik walked down Norra Hamngatan. He hesitated a second before he knocked on the door. But then his sense of duty tookover and he knocked firmly several times. No one came to the door. He tried again, now even more determined. Still no response. Typical. He should have rung them before he came over. But when Martin arrived and told him what Tanja’s father had said, Patrik reacted on impulse. Now he looked all around. A woman was tending to her plants outside the house next door.
‘Excuse me, do you happen to know where the Struwers are? Their car is here, so I assumed they were at home.’
She broke off what she was doing and nodded. ‘They’re in the boat-house.’ She pointed with a little garden trowel to one the little red buildings facing the sea.
Patrik thanked her and walked down a short stone staircase leading to the front of the boat-house. A sun chair was set up on the pier, and he could see that Gun was sunbathing in a skimpy bikini. He noticed that her whole body was as ginger-snap brown as her face, and just as wrinkled. Some people apparently didn’t care about the risk of skin cancer. He cleared his throat to get her attention.
‘Hello, please forgive me for bothering you like this in the morning, but I wonder whether I could have a few words with you.’ Patrik had put on his formal tone, as always when he was the bearer of bad news. Assume the role of policeman, not fellow human being –that was the only way to be able to go home and get a good night’s sleep.
‘Not at all. Just a moment, I just have to put something on.’ She vanished inside the boat-house.
Patrik sat down at a table to wait, permitting himself for a second to enjoy the view. The harbour was emptier than usual, but the sea was glittering and the gulls were still flying over the piers in search of food. It took a few minutes, but when Gun finally emerged she was wearing shorts and a top, and she had Lars in tow. He said a solemn hello to Patrik and sat down at the table with his wife.
‘What’s happened? Did you catch the person who killed Siv?’ Gun’s voice was eager.
‘No, that’s not why I’m here.’ Patrik paused and weighed his next words. ‘This morning we happened to talk to the father of the young German woman whose body we found with Siv’s.’ Another pause.
Gun raised her eyebrows quizzically. ‘Yes?’
Patrik told her the name of Tanja’s father and was not disappointed by Gun’s reaction. She jumped and gasped for air. Lars gave her a puzzled look, unaware of what the connection could be.
‘But that’s Malin’s father. What are you telling me? Malin is dead, isn’t she?’
It was difficult to express himself diplomatically. But to be crass, it wasn’t his job to be a diplomat. He decided to give her the unvarnished truth.
‘She didn’t die. It was just as he said. According to him, he clearly viewed your demand for compensation as a bit – how should I say it? – troublesome? So he made up a story that your granddaughter had died.’
‘But the girl who died here was namedTanja, wasn’t she, not Malin?’ Gun looked confused.
‘Obviously he changed her name, to one that sounded more German. But there’s no doubt that Tanja was actually your granddaughter Malin.’
For once Gun Struwer was speechless. Then Patrik saw that rage was beginning to boil inside her. Lars tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off.
‘Who the hell does he think he is? Have you ever heard anything so shameless, Lars? To lie right to my face and tell me that my granddaughter, my own flesh and blood, is dead! All these years she’s been living in the b
est of health while I went around thinking that my poor darling died a terrible death! And to have the nerve to claim that he did it because I was too troublesome –have you ever heard the like, Lars? Just because I demanded what was rightfully mine, now I’m troublesome!’
Lars again tried to calm her down, but she shook him off. She was so upset that little bubbles of saliva were forming in the corners of her mouth.
‘Well, I’m certainly going to give him a piece of my mind. The police must have his telephone number. I’d like to have it, please. That German devil is going to hear what I think about this whole matter.’
Patrik sighed to himself. He could understand that she had a right to be upset, but in his view she was missing the whole point of what he’d told her. He let her rage on for a few moments and then said calmly, ‘I know this must be difficult to hear, but it’s your granddaughter that we found murdered a week ago. Along with Siv and Mona. So I have to ask you: Have you ever had any contact with a young woman who called herself Tanja Schmidt? She didn’t get in touch with you in some way?’
Gun shook her head vigorously, but Lars looked thoughtful. Hesitantly he said, ‘There was someone who rang a couple of times without saying anything. Don’t you remember that, Gun? It must have been two or three weeks ago, and we thought it was a prank call. Do you think it could have been her?’
Patrik nodded.‘Very likely. Her father had told the whole story to her two years ago, and she may have thought it would be difficult after that to get in touch with you. She also went to the library and made copies of articles about her mother’s disappearance, so she probably came here to find out what really happened to her mother.’
‘My poor little heart.’ Gun had finally realized what was expected of her and turned on the crocodile tears. ‘To think that my little darling was still alive, and that she was so close. If only we could have met before … What sort of person would do something like this to me? First Siv and then my little Malin.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Do you think I’m in danger? Is there someone who wants to get me? Do I need police protection?’ Gun’s eyes flicked nervously between Patrik and Lars.
‘I don’t think that will be necessary. We don’t believe that the murders are connected to you in any way, so I shouldn’t worry.’ Then he couldn’t resist the temptation: ‘Besides, the murderer only targets young women.’
He regretted saying it at once, and got up to show that the conversation was over. ‘I’m really sorry to be the bearer of such terrible news. But I’d be grateful if you’d ring me if you think of anything else. We’ll start by checking up on that telephone call.’
Before Patrik left he cast one last envious glance at the view of the sea. Gun Struwer was the ultimate proof that good things didn’t always come to those who deserved them.
‘What did she say?’
Martin was sitting in the lunchroom with Patrik. As usual, the coffee-maker had been on for far too long, but they were used to it and drank the coffee greedily.
‘I shouldn’t say this, but damn, what a ghastly person she is. What she was most worried about wasn’t that she’d missed so many years of her granddaughter’s life, or that the girl had just been murdered. It bothered her more that father discovered such an effective way of squelching her demand for financial compensation.’
‘That’s terrible.’
Their mood was dismal as they sat pondering the pettiness of human beings. It was unusually quiet in the station. Mellberg hadn’t shown up; he seemed to have awarded himself a sleep-in. Gösta and Ernst were out ‘chasing road pirates’, as they called it. Actually they were probably having a snack at some roadside rest stop, hoping that the pirates would walk up and introduce themselves and ask to be taken to jail. ‘Preventive police work,’ they it. And they were probably right. That rest stop was safe, at least as long as they were sitting there.
‘What do you think Tanja planned to gain by coming here? Surely she wasn’t thinking of playing private eye and finding out what happened to her mother.’
Patrik shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think so. But I can understand that she’d be curious about what happened. She probably wanted to see the place with her own eyes. I’m sure that sooner or later she would have got in contact with her grandmother. But I should think that what she’d heard from her father wouldn’t have been all that flattering, so I can see why she postponed the visit. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if, when we get the phone records from Telia, it turns out that the calls to Lars and Gun Struwer came from one of the public telephones in Fjällbacka, probably the one at the campground.’
‘But how did Tanja end up in the King’s Cleft together with the skeletons her mother and Mona Thernblad?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine. The only thing I can imagine is that she must have stumbled on something, or rather someone, who was involved in the disappearance of her mother and Mona.’
‘If so, that automatically excludes Johannes. He’s lying safe in his grave in Fjällbacka churchyard.’
Patrik looked up. ‘Do we know that? Do we know beyond all doubt that he’s really dead?’
Martin laughed. ‘Are you joking? He hanged himself in 1979. You can’t get much deader than that!’
A certain agitation slipped into Patrik’s voice. ‘I know this sounds incredible, but listen to this: imagine if the police began to get too close to the truth and he could feel the law breathing down his neck. He was a Hult and could scrape up plenty of money, if not by himself then through his father. A bribe here, another one there, and bingo –you have a false death certificate and an empty coffin.’
Martin laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach. ‘You’re out of your mind! This is Fjällbacka we’re talking about – not Chicago in the Twenties. Are you sure you weren’t out in the sun too long? It sounds like you have sunstroke. Take the fact that it was his son who found him. How do you get a six-year-old to tell a story like that if it isn’t true?’
‘I don’t know, but I intend to find out. Are you coming?’
‘Where to?’
Patrik rolled his eyes and enunciated every syllable. ‘To talk to Robert, of course.’
Martin sighed but got to his feet. He muttered, ‘As if we don’t have enough to do.’ On the way out he remembered something about the fertilizer? I thought I’d look into that before lunch.’
‘Ask Annika to do it,’ Patrik called back over his shoulder.
Martin stopped at the reception desk and left Annika the information she would need. She was having a slow day and was grateful for something specific to do.
Martin couldn’t help wondering if they were wasting valuable time. Patrik’s theory seemed much too far-fetched, much too imaginative to have any relation to reality. But he was the boss on this case …
Annika threw herself into the task. The past few days had been hectic, since she was the one who’d sat like a spider in the centre of the web and organized the search parties for Jenny. But now they’d been called off after three days of fruitless searching. Because the lion’s share of the tourists had left the area as a direct result of the events of the past week, the switchboard at the station was eerily quiet. Even the reporters had begun to lose interest in favour of the next sensational new stories.
Annika stared at the information Martin had given her and looked up a phone number in the book. After being shunted round to various parts of the company, she finally got the name of the sales manager. She was placed in a telephone queue, and with canned music fizzing in her ear she spent the time on hold in dreamy recollections of her week in Greece, which now seemed an eternity away. When she’d returned from her holiday she had felt rested, strong and beautiful. After being thrown into the maelstrom at the station, the effects of the break were long gone. She yearned for the white beaches, the turquoise water and big bowls of tzatziki. Both she and her husband had put on about five pounds eating the wonderful Mediterranean food, but it didn’t worry them. Neither of them had ever been thin,
and they had accepted this as a fact of life. They were happily unfazed by the slimming tips offered in the newspapers. When they lay close to each other their curves fit together perfectly, and they became one big, warm wave of billowing flesh. And there-had been plenty of that during their holiday …
Annika’s holiday memories wereabruptly interrupted by a melodious male voice speaking with the unmistakable accent of Lysekil to the south.
Annika told him what she needed to know.
‘Oh, howexciting. A murder investigation. Despite thirty years in the fertilizer business, this is the first time I’ve ever been asked for help with a homicide.’
Happy to be able to gild your day, thought Annika sourly, but she kept her caustic comment to herself, so as not to stifle his eagerness to assist her. Sometimes the public’s appetite for sensation bordered on the morbid.
‘We’d like some help compiling a customer list for your fertilizer FZ-302,’ Annika told the man.
‘Well, that’s not going to be easy. We stopped selling that type in 1985. Fantastic product, but new environmental regulations forced us to stop manufacturing it.’ The sales manager sighed heavily at the injustice of environmental protection laws circumscribing the sales of a successful product.
‘But I assume you have some form of documentation?’ Annika coaxed him.
‘Well, I’d have to check it with the administrativedepartment, but it’s possible there’s information on it in the old archives. In fact, up until 1987 we had manual storage of all such data; after that everything was computerized. But I don’t think we threw anything out.’
‘You don’t recall anyone who purchased … ,’she checked her notes again, ‘the product FZ-302 in this area?’
‘No, my dear. That was so many years ago that I can’t just pick the information out of thin air.’ He laughed.‘There’s been a lot of water under the bridge since then.’
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