Tonight You’re Dead (Sandhamn Murders Book 4)

by Viveca Sten

  Nora turned her back on Henrik and joined them.

  CHAPTER 60

  Simon was sitting at the head of the table, his cheeks glowing with excitement after opening his presents. His maternal grandparents had bought him a complete train set with a classic wooden track, and Adam had already started putting it together.

  Henrik had brought various LEGO sets, which had evoked squeaks of excitement from the birthday boy, while Thomas and Pernilla had luckily ignored Nora’s advice and had given him a police uniform, accurate down to the smallest detail.

  Simon had been so thrilled that he had immediately taken off his Spiderman T-shirt and put on his new outfit. Now he was watching Nora as she lit the brightly colored candles on his cake. He took a deep breath and blew them all out.

  “Well done—make a wish!” Nora said, stroking his hair.

  She cut him a big slice, then pushed the cake over to Pernilla, who cut herself a small piece before passing it on to Susanne.

  “Don’t you like princess cake?” Nora asked her friend. “I thought you had a sweet tooth!”

  “I just don’t feel like it this evening,” Pernilla replied, getting to her feet. “Is it OK if I make myself a cup of tea instead of coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  Nora was surprised; Pernilla usually preferred coffee. “The tea bags are in the cupboard on the right. Just help yourself.”

  Pernilla reached for the kettle, and Nora’s eyes lingered on her loose-fitting top. She glanced at Thomas, who was absorbed in a discussion on speed limits with her father. Thomas had been in a fantastic mood ever since he’d arrived.

  “Delicious cupcakes,” Monica exclaimed, turning to Nora. “Did you make them yourself?”

  Nora shook her head, dismissing thoughts of Thomas and Pernilla. It was perfectly obvious that the identical, beautifully decorated cupcakes were store bought.

  “No, I got them from a bakery.”

  “Of course. You wouldn’t have time, what with your job and everything else you do. It was foolish of me to think such a thing. I know you’re a real career woman.”

  Monica picked up a chocolate cookie.

  “The cinnamon buns are homemade,” Nora said, regretting the words as soon as they left her mouth. She didn’t need to justify herself to her ex-mother-in-law. Pernilla came to her rescue once more.

  “I’m surprised you don’t help Nora with that kind of thing, Monica,” she said, smiling sweetly. “My mother-in-law is an absolute angel. She always turns up with a big box of goodies when we celebrate Thomas’s birthday; she knows I’m too busy to bake. Wouldn’t it be nice if you took care of things next time?”

  Nora suppressed a smile. Monica wouldn’t dream of touching a bowl of sticky dough with her well-manicured fingers.

  At that moment, her father cleared his throat. He got to his feet and put down his glass. Simon gazed up at him expectantly. He had already spilled cream on his new police uniform, and his mouth was full of green marzipan. He looked so happy, sitting there surrounded by his whole family, and Nora allowed herself to relax a little. Inviting Henrik and his parents had been the right thing to do. And she had even managed to cope with Marie’s presence.

  “Time to toast the birthday boy,” Lasse said. “Three cheers for Simon! Hip, hip, hurrah!”

  “Did you enjoy your birthday?”

  Nora tucked Simon in and smoothed down the covers. She stroked his warm cheek, which was still rosy with the excitement of the day. The guests had left around half-past nine, and it was definitely bedtime. The boys had school tomorrow, as usual, which meant she would have to wake them at twenty to seven.

  “Mmm.”

  He yawned and turned over, Winnie the Pooh firmly clutched under his arm. Sleepily he snuffled his favorite cuddly toy.

  That bear needs a wash, Nora thought, wondering how on earth she was going to get Simon to agree. There was a battle every time she suggested giving Winnie a bath in a bowl of water with gentle detergent, but his fur must’ve been crawling with bacteria by now.

  “Did you like the cake?”

  “It was really good.”

  “Do you remember making a wish when you blew out the candles?”

  Simon nodded.

  “Do you want to tell me what you wished for, or is it a secret?”

  He hesitated, then his blue eyes cleared as he made his decision.

  “I wished that you and Daddy would be friends again so that we can all move back home.”

  CHAPTER 61

  “I think Nora suspects something,” Pernilla said, then followed it up with a big yawn. She was lying on her side in bed, her head resting on Thomas’s shoulder. It was almost eleven o’clock.

  “What makes you say that?”

  Thomas put down his book.

  “She was looking at me strangely. At my stomach.”

  Thomas bent down and kissed Pernilla’s forehead.

  “Are you sure you’re not imagining things? There’s nothing to see yet.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Pernilla pulled up her nightdress and poked at her tummy; her navel was protruding slightly. “Can’t you see how round it is already? It’s like a ball. I’m going to be enormous!” A big smile spread across her face. “She’s going to be a big, strong baby!”

  Thomas shook his head. “You’re not showing at all.”

  “I can hardly fasten my jeans, and I’ve still got seven months to go. I’ll be walking around wearing a tent by the end.”

  Pernilla sank back against the pillow with an exaggerated groan. Thomas picked up his book, and she ran her forefinger down his back.

  “Simon was cute tonight, wasn’t he?”

  “Mmm.”

  Thomas was absorbed in his novel.

  “He blew out all the candles at once, and he’s so little.”

  “Mmm.”

  Pernilla propped herself up on one elbow and contemplated her husband.

  “Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

  Thomas gave a start. “Sorry?”

  “I was impressed when Simon blew out all his candles. He’s only eight.”

  Something stirred in Thomas’s subconscious.

  “What did you say?”

  “Simon was cute tonight.”

  “No, the other thing.”

  Pernilla frowned. “I said I was impressed when he blew out all his candles. He’s only eight.”

  Eight. Where had he heard the number eight before? He pictured Bo Kaufman, the wrinkled face lighting up as he leafed through the old photo album.

  I was 108. 108 Kaufman.

  There had been eight Coastal Rangers in the group, but they had been given only seven names by the military. Or was he mistaken?

  “I just need to check something,” he said, getting out of bed. “Go to sleep—I won’t be long.”

  He went into the kitchen and got a pen and a notepad out of the top drawer. By the light shining in from the hallway, he quickly scribbled down the names: Kihlberg, Fredell, Kaufman, Martinger, Erneskog, Eklund.

  Six . . . was that everyone? He chewed his pen, trying to remember the biographies Elsa Harning had sent over.

  He had missed Björn Sigurd, the soldier who had died in Bosnia. He added Sigurd to the list.

  There were only seven names.

  There must have been another Coastal Ranger.

  DIARY: JUNE 1977

  It’s almost ten thirty at night, but it’s still light outside. We’ve been paddling all day, and my body certainly knows it. The base of my spine hurts, and my muscles are aching, even though it’s several hours since we got back.

  I ate quickly so that I could have a bit of peace in the room before the others came to bed. Sometimes it’s nice to be alone. I had just stretched out on my bunk when I heard them.

  Two officers were standing outside the window, chatting. At first, it was just an indistinct murmur, but I thought I picked up his name, and I made an effort to tune in.

  They must have been standing right
by the wall—two men talking about a third. They were talking about the sergeant.

  “Nobody else pushes the recruits as hard as he does,” one of them said. “He won’t accept anything less than perfection. He’s brutal.”

  The smell of cigarette smoke drifted in through the open window. Silently I slid out of bed and crouched down by the sill.

  “I guess he just wants to show off, like everyone else.”

  “To make up for the fact that he failed to get into the Royal Swedish Naval Academy?”

  The scorn in the laughter that followed was unmistakable.

  “He probably thought he could walk straight in, his daddy’s an admiral.”

  One of them struck a match and lit another cigarette. I pressed my body closer to the wall; I didn’t want to miss a word.

  “Wouldn’t you think the same? Fucking embarrassing, not being accepted as a reserve officer in the navy when you’ve got a father like that.”

  I couldn’t make out the next few words.

  “He can still apply to be a reserve officer with the Coastal Artillery in the September intake. It’s not as impressive, but otherwise he’ll just end up as a regular.”

  “And what would Daddy say then?”

  Another burst of laughter.

  “If he messes up in the final exercise in August, that’s it. He’ll be fucked, just like all the recruits he’s booted out.”

  Someone spat on the ground.

  “I guess that’s why he drives his boys. He’s desperate for them to perform well, the poor bastards.”

  I could hardly contain myself.

  “As far as he’s concerned, it’s deadly serious.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. He needs to prove himself to Daddy. You know there’s talk of him being promoted to commander in chief?”

  The voices grew fainter, and I could hear footsteps moving away. In the distance, the gulls were screaming as they squabbled over the day’s kitchen scraps.

  I had a bad feeling, and I couldn’t shake it off.

  CHAPTER 62

  Wednesday (The Third Week)

  Simon’s words before he went to sleep had hit Nora hard. She had struggled to hold back the tears as she cleared away the dishes and got ready for bed.

  Move back home, he had said. To the house where they used to live.

  The new apartment counted for nothing; it was just a temporary solution until he could go back to his real home.

  When the alarm went off at five past six, Nora didn’t want to wake up; her body was slow and heavy from lack of sleep. She dragged herself into the bathroom and got in the shower, wishing she could just stay there in the stream of hot water. She had no idea how she was going to face the day, but eventually she turned the shower off and reached for a towel.

  It was still dark when she walked into the kitchen, and she lit some candles to chase away the gloom.

  That was when the tears came.

  She slumped down at the table, her shoulders shaking as she wept over what Simon had said, the fact that Henrik had brought Marie along, and Jonas’s failure to get in touch.

  It felt like an eternity since she had sat in the restaurant on Sandhamn with him, feeling so happy and full of anticipation.

  When she finally pulled herself together, her nose was red, and her mascara was ruined. She took a shaky deep breath and tore off a piece of paper towel to blow her nose. She splashed her face with cold water, filled the kettle and switched it on, then went into the bathroom to repair the damage. She needed to wake the boys up; there wasn’t time for any more crying.

  She fixed her makeup, then went into Adam’s room. His alarm clock had rung, but he often went back to sleep. She sat down on the edge of the bed and gently touched his shoulder.

  “I’m awake,” he mumbled.

  “I just wanted to check.”

  Nora hesitated, then she leaned forward and gave him a little hug. He pulled away so often these days; it wasn’t easy to know if he would accept a gesture of affection from his mom. To her surprise, he hugged her back, almost as if he realized she was a little fragile this morning.

  Holding her eldest son close for a few seconds made her feel much better.

  “I thought Dad was dumb yesterday,” he murmured into her shoulder.

  Nora moved a fraction so that she could see his face.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He shouldn’t have brought Marie.”

  “Don’t you like her?”

  “It’s not that.” He shook his head. “But we live here, not her. I didn’t like her being here.”

  “Oh, honey . . .” Nora stroked his hair. “I don’t think Dad meant any harm.”

  Adam nodded. “By the way, is it OK if Lisa comes home with me this afternoon, before I go over to Wille’s?” he said quietly.

  Nora carried on stroking his hair, and he didn’t protest. She smiled and patted his arm.

  “Of course. There are cinnamon buns and cake left over from yesterday—just help yourselves.”

  “Thanks, Mom—you’re the best.”

  Nora’s eyes filled with tears once more.

  Thomas had picked Margit up earlier than usual in order to avoid the morning rush hour. He didn’t take much notice of the speed limits on the way to Berga. He’d only had six hours’ sleep, but he felt well rested. As soon as she’d gotten in the car, Margit had nodded off with her head resting against the side window, and Thomas concentrated on the traffic.

  They whizzed past Gullmarsplan and Årsta, and Thomas noticed that the worst of the congestion seemed to be in the opposite direction. Hopefully it would be cleared by the time they headed back. Martinger’s plane was due to land in a few hours.

  He didn’t speak until they were approaching the exit for Berga. It was five past eight.

  “Nearly there,” he said, gently touching Margit’s arm.

  “I’m awake. I was just resting my eyes.”

  The faint snores that had been coming from the passenger seat for the past twenty minutes suggested that this wasn’t entirely true, but Thomas didn’t contradict her.

  “I’m wondering if we should ask Martinger and Kihlberg to give us a voluntary DNA sample,” Margit said as she stretched her arms. “If they don’t have anything to hide, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Now there’s an argument nobody has ever used before,” Thomas said.

  Margit ignored the sarcasm.

  “It usually works—at least until they’ve spoken to a lawyer.”

  “It’s certainly worth a try. By the way, what about their phones—what did the prosecutor say?”

  “We got permission. I’ve asked Kalle to check out their cell phones and landlines. He’s also contacted the provider with regard to Marcus Nielsen’s parents’ phone records.”

  “When does he think he’ll get the results?”

  “Today or tomorrow; it shouldn’t take long.”

  Thomas took the turn for the military base. Soon they would be meeting Elsa Harning again. He remembered her aura of professionalism, but he had his doubts about her honesty and openness.

  “Do you think the military is deliberately trying to hide something?”

  Margit took a moment before answering.

  “I don’t know,” she said at last. “But it’s odd that the number of recruits doesn’t match up.”

  CHAPTER 63

  The guard at the gate was unimpressed when it turned out that Thomas and Margit had arrived unannounced. He refused to let them in until Thomas produced his police ID and demanded to speak to his superior officer; he made a point of noting down their car registration plate and personal ID numbers.

  He must have phoned as soon as they had gone through, because Elsa Harning was waiting for them just inside the main door. As before, her uniform was perfectly pressed, but this time her blond hair was pulled back into a simple bun, secured by a barrette.

  “I believe you want to speak to me again?” she said in a civil tone of voice. “It
might have been easier if you’d called in advance to make an appointment; I can’t spare you much time, I’m afraid.”

  “It’s not the only thing that might have made life easier,” Thomas couldn’t help saying.

  They followed her along the same corridor as before, but on this occasion, she led them into her office, a large, light-filled room overlooking the sea. There was nothing on her desk apart from a leather mat, two files, and a pen holder. Thomas couldn’t see any personal items in the room—no photographs of children or dogs, nothing to give a clue as to who the woman in front of them actually was.

  The only unusual item was a particularly large plant standing in one corner; it had wound its way all around the window frame. If nothing else, Captain Harning had a green thumb.

  “How can I be of assistance this time?” she said, gesturing toward the visitors’ sofa. “Would you like coffee, by the way?”

  “Please,” Margit said.

  Elsa Harning picked up the phone, and after only a couple of minutes, the door opened and a young woman came in carrying a tray with three mugs and a jug of milk. No sugar.

  “We’ve gone through the material you sent us on Monday—thank you for that,” Thomas began. “However, we have reason to believe it’s incomplete.”

  Elsa frowned. “Incomplete?”

  “We received names and further details about seven men who belonged to the group we’re interested in. But we know that one of our homicide victims had the designated number 108.”

  Thomas said each number slowly to make sure it sank in, keeping his eyes fixed on Elsa.

  “We’re a little confused, and we’d like an explanation.”

  Elsa looked taken aback, then a furrow appeared between her well-shaped eyebrows.

  “You think we’ve deliberately withheld information?” she snapped.

  “We don’t think anything, but we have four homicide victims, and we don’t want any more. We need your help, and we don’t want you to hold back information that could be important.” Thomas lowered his voice. “Above all, we don’t want to waste time asking questions about something we should have been told in the first place.”