Lycke

by Mikaela Bley

  The battery was about to run out, so she went back to her station and searched for the charger among the piles of paper on her desk.

  Then her phone rang again. A private number.

  She pressed the green button.

  ‘Hello?’

  No reply.

  ‘Who is it?’ she asked, hearing someone breathing on the other end.

  ‘Say who it is and what you want, or I’m hanging up.’

  There was silence for a few seconds, and then the person on the other end hung up, without a word.

  Ellen stared at the phone.

  ‘Who was that?’ Agatha asked, looking up from her desk opposite.

  Ellen shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I wonder if it’s the same person who called several times before.’

  At the same moment, the phone rang again.

  Agatha and Ellen looked at each other.

  Once again she pressed the green button.

  ‘Ellen.’

  ‘Hi, it’s me.’

  ‘Mum,’ she said, as clearly as she could, to answer Agatha’s curious gaze.

  ‘I’m not calling at a bad time, am I?’

  ‘No, it’s no problem, but I’m at work and can’t talk too long,’ she said, hoping that her mother would accept that. ‘Have you called several times already?’

  ‘No. Why would I have done that?’

  Ellen didn’t answer.

  ‘We had a very nice dinner yesterday.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ said Ellen, dismissing the guilt trip her mother was trying to force on her. Martyrdom. Ellen opened her email, while she continued talking. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.’

  ‘Yes, that’s just the way it is.’

  ‘Was there anything in particular you wanted?’ Ellen asked, scrolling through the tip emails. Nothing relevant seemed to have come in.

  ‘No, nothing special.’

  They were both silent.

  ‘It’s lonely here,’ said her mother.

  ‘Okay,’ said Ellen, leaning back in her chair.

  ‘Have you talked with Dad?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What do you think he’s going to say about all this? That you’re digging into the girl’s disappearance?’

  ‘I don’t know, and I don’t care, either.’

  She still remembered how she had been lying in her bed in her room at Örelo. A week after Elsa disappeared.

  ‘You have to say goodnight to Ellen,’ she heard her mother say in the hall outside.

  ‘I don’t know what I should say,’ her father answered.

  ‘Just say goodnight. That can’t be so hard.’

  For a long time Ellen was lying in bed, staring at the portraits of her parents.

  Her father never came in to say goodnight. A few weeks later, he moved out of Örelo. It was as though he didn’t think it was worth staying when Elsa no longer existed. As if he wanted to get as far as away as possible from Ellen.

  He started over. Got a new family.

  The one time he showed an interest in Ellen’s life was when her mother told him that Ellen was going to major in journalism and become a crime reporter. He called her then.

  ‘Why do you have to provoke us like this? Haven’t we taught you to be more than that? Why can’t you do something more like Elsa would have done if she’d lived? Why can’t you be a lawyer? Or a doctor?’

  ‘Or something else that fits in with the family, do you mean? First, we’re no longer a family; second, you haven’t taught me shit; and third — how the hell can you know that Elsa wanted to become a lawyer when she grew up? She was eight years old. Eight! She dreamed of being a dolphin caretaker, damn it,’ she’d wanted to scream. But she didn’t. She didn’t say anything. It was easiest that way. He would neither understand nor care about why Ellen needed to work with death. And then he was also right. Elsa certainly would have become a lawyer.

  ‘Don’t you remember how the vultures exposed our family? Don’t you remember that they took our passport photos and printed them in the newspapers? Those reporters who were spying on us behind the bushes. Who followed you to school. Don’t you remember?’

  Of course she remembered. But she wouldn’t be that kind of journalist.

  ‘How can you want to get mixed up with those people? I don’t understand. Why can’t you just be normal?’ her father had gone on.

  It was a reaction, at least. And basically the only conversation they’d had with each other since Elsa’s disappearance. Besides wishing each other Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and have a nice summer. Frostily polite phrases.

  There were no ‘Happy Birthdays’, either. But she’d chosen that herself. It felt strange to celebrate a birthday without Elsa.

  On the other hand, she always lit a candle on the anniversary of Elsa’s disappearance.

  Her mother cleared her throat. ‘You think you’re so strong, but you’re not. This opens up so many wounds, Ellen, and I can’t understand why you of all people are the one who’s tearing them open.’

  Ellen closed her eyes. ‘Please, Mum …’

  ‘Oh, well. Today, it’s too bad about little Vera, the girl is a complete wreck.’

  ‘I see. What happened?’ Ellen asked, grateful that the conversation had shifted to her niece.

  ‘Her little birds died.’

  ‘They died?’

  ‘Yes, all of them. The mother, Goldie or whatever she’s called, evidently lost her mind and killed them all. So terrible. We’re saying that they flew out to the happy hunting ground, along with Elsa.’

  Ellen took a few deep breaths.

  ‘Yes, poor Vera is completely crushed. The poor thing. The bird apparently got frightened and thought it was saving its young by killing them. Yes, I don’t know, your brother explained it to me that way anyway. He apparently spoke with someone at the zoo. It’s a great loss for Vera, as I’m sure you understand.’

  Ellen didn’t know what to say.

  ‘I remember when we had to put your rabbit down, you were completely dejected for weeks after that.’

  ‘It was Elsa’s rabbit.’

  There was silence. Neither of them could think of what to say.

  When they hung up, Ellen’s body felt completely heavy.

  ‘What happened?’ Agatha asked. ‘You’re quite pale.’

  ‘Nothing, I’m just tired. There’s been so much work lately.’

  ‘Sometimes you get a case you can’t let go of — it gets crazy, you can’t stop thinking about it.’

  Ellen looked inquisitively at Agatha.

  ‘Yes, I know it can get that way. Sometimes, you get overly involved, certain cases stir something up in you.’

  Ellen stared into the computer screen.

  ‘Who was it that died?’ asked Agatha.

  Ellen slowly raised her eyes.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop, but I just heard that you were talking about —’

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Ellen. ‘My niece’s bird killed its young, trying to save them.’

  ‘Oh boy. That sounds macabre … and contradictory,’ Agatha said.

  ‘Hmm, maybe.’ Ellen continued searching for the charger for her phone. ‘Can private numbers be traced?’

  Agatha shook her head. ‘Not unless there’s a police report.’

  ***

  Ellen finally found a parking space at Skeppsbron across from her building’s entryway. Actually, it wasn’t a real parking space, and she would surely get a ticket, but she didn’t have the energy to drive around searching for another space now. She wouldn’t be able to find one any closer to her building, and she was much too tired to walk in the rain.

  She locked the car and ran across to the other side of the street.

  Skeppsbron was deserted. Hardly a person this ti
me of day and in this weather. At this time of year, the wharf was usually crawling with both tourists and residents of Stockholm.

  Once at the entry, she felt for her keys in her jacket, but they weren’t there. Then she opened her bag and dug around, finally finding the key ring at the very bottom, along with all the other junk she had in there: receipts, make-up, a little bottle of water. I have to clean this out, she thought.

  Just as she was putting the key in the lock, she felt something hit her hard on the side. Suddenly, she found herself lying on the ground.

  It took a few seconds before she understood what had happened. Then she caught sight of a man running away toward Slussen.

  ‘Hey, stop! What the hell are you doing?!’

  He must have run into her. It had happened so fast. She hadn’t even realised that someone was nearby. He was getting away, and all she could see was that he was wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.

  She looked around on the ground. Damn it, he took her bag!

  ‘Stop!’ she screamed, although she knew it was pointless. Luckily, her keys were still in the door, and her phone was in her pocket.

  TUESDAY, 27 MAY

  ELLEN

  5.50 A.M.

  It was just before six o’clock in the morning when Ellen’s mobile rang. She rolled over to the edge of the bed and reached for the phone.

  ‘Are you sleeping?’

  It was Jimmy.

  ‘No. I’m on my way to work,’ she said sarcastically. ‘It’s not even six yet, damn it. To be honest, I don’t really feel like talking to you.’ She sat up in bed. ‘I have other things to think about.’

  ‘Yes, that’s true, you’re going to Djurgården.’

  She swallowed. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘The girl’s body has been found.’

  ‘What?’ Ellen said, pulling the covers around her.

  ‘Lycke. She’s dead. I’m sorry, Ellen. Andreas will pick you up in ten minutes. Or let’s say five.’

  Ellen had a hard time breathing. Time had stopped.

  ‘I don’t know …’

  She didn’t want to go there. Didn’t want to be involved any more.

  ‘Shall I ask someone else to go?’ asked Jimmy. ‘If you can’t handle it?’

  She remained silent. She bit down hard on her lip and forced back the tears.

  ‘Andreas is already on his way. Where are you by the way? Are you sleeping at home?’

  ‘Yes. But …’ She ran her fingers nervously through her hair. ‘Philip can drive me,’ she said, and hung up.

  First the words came as a faint whisper, but then she took a deep breath and filled her lungs with air: ‘DEATH, DEATH, DEATH!’

  The night had been edged by nightmares, and now it was as if she was still in one of them. It was like she was back at square one. She shouldn’t have gotten mixed up in this to begin with. How could she have been so stupid? Everyone had been right.

  But it was too late to back out now. She had to pull herself together and find out what had happened.

  ***

  Her body was tense. With every bump, and every time the car braked, she almost fell apart.

  Philip tenderly placed his hand on her knee.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

  Ellen nodded mutely and swallowed yet another burp.

  ‘You know it’s not your fault, don’t you? You did what you could. You have nothing to do with this.’

  Once again, she nodded, wishing he would stop.

  They drove onto Strandvägen. People were still in bed, asleep. Unaware of what had happened to little Lycke. Their lives continued to roll on as if nothing had happened. They would soon get out of bed, have their morning coffee, read the morning paper. Reflect on something awful that had happened in the world — then forget it a moment later and take a shower.

  She switched on the radio and turned up the volume. When it sounded as if the speakers would explode, she let go of the volume knob, and leant back to a song she didn’t recognise.

  The rain had turned into a light drizzle. Philip slowed down, ending up behind a police car that presumably was en route to the same place. The car didn’t have its sirens on.

  They drove past Skansen and Gröna Lund. Lycke would never get to go to the carnival again. Never eat fairy floss or buy raffle tickets. Never laugh.

  Philip drove up to the parking lot by the little lake in the eastern part of South Djurgården, not far from the Djurgårdsbrunn canal.

  The hyenas were laughing, the vultures smiling, and the maggots were doing their part. The endless cycle around a dead body.

  When Elsa was found, she had been on the other side.

  One of the next of kin.

  Next of kin was one of the worst phrases she knew. It was equivalent to victim, someone who couldn’t do anything about their situation. Someone who was stuck in a black hole, and who others should feel sorry for. Or accuse.

  To this day, she could hear her mother’s scream when the plainclothes police parked in the gravel yard outside the castle and slowly walked to the main entry. No words were needed.

  Elsa had been found. In the lake. At the water’s edge, below the horse paddock and the apple trees.

  She was lying by the stones in the reeds.

  It was an accident, they said. Such a waste. Such a terrible waste. So wrong.

  If Ellen had sounded the alarm in time, they would have found her alive. If Ellen hadn’t forced her to go down there to swim. If Ellen …

  After that, the minister from Bettna parish came. He babbled on about one strange thing after the other. Ellen remembered that she’d tried to understand, but it was as if he was speaking a different language while he held her hands. She remembered thinking that the minister probably wouldn’t hold her hands if he knew it was Ellen’s fault that Elsa was dead.

  The sorrow had only come later. There and then, there was only guilt.

  And now it was guilt about Lycke.

  ‘How long has she been dead?’ she asked Philip.

  ‘Ellen, you couldn’t have done anything more. You have to let go of it. Concentrate now on getting the culprit convicted instead,’ he said, getting out of the car.

  Ellen followed reluctantly. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths before she looked around.

  It was chilly, and she pulled up the zipper on her dark-green parka.

  The police had already managed to cordon off the area down by the Isbladskärret wetland.

  Ellen went over to the blue-white tape, even though her body screamed at her to turn around and run home.

  ‘Ellen!’ Andreas called. ‘Wait!’ He came running after her. ‘So they’ve already put up the party tent,’ he said, as he caught up with her, his camera slung over his shoulder.

  When fieldwork became too heavy, they would try to make light of things, to distance themselves, play it down. Today, it wasn’t working, nor did she have the energy to respond or ask him to stop.

  In the tent, covering the place where the body had been found, two crime scene investigators clad in white cloth overalls were bent over.

  Ellen stopped a few metres from the tape and looked out over the rest of the area. The barricade extended over a large grassy area and ended by the water’s edge. Farther up to the right, behind the parking lot, there were a few houses. Even though she so often took walks or went running around Djurgården, she couldn’t remember having been right here before. She squinted and tried to read the information sign that was set up a short way into the area. The text was too small to read at that distance, but she could make out that it was a bird sanctuary.

  From the parking lot to the crime scene was at least a hundred metres. The murderer must have carried her. Or perhaps dragged her.

  Some CSIs were walking around staring down at the ground
, searching for clues.

  Flashbulbs sounded inside the party tent. They were photographing Lycke where she had been found. White and cold, Ellen assumed.

  ‘I’ll take a few stock images before more reporters arrive,’ Andreas said, nodding at the Swedish Television car that was turning into the parking lot. ‘In ten minutes, the material has to be in. Do you think it’s the murderer’s?’ He pointed with his foot at a cigarette butt on the ground and smiled. Yet another attempt at levity.

  ‘Sorry, not today.’

  Andreas looked ashamed.

  Ellen went up to the uniformed officer standing guard by the barricades.

  ‘Do you know anything about what’s happened?’

  ‘I’m just holding the perimeter. If you have any questions, you’ll have to ask the field commander. He’s standing over there.’ He pointed toward the tent.

  ‘He looks quite occupied — is there anyone else I can talk with?’

  ‘No, unfortunately. You’ll have to come back.’

  ‘Can you confirm that it’s Lycke Höök that’s been found?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t give you any information.’

  Suddenly, Ove appeared, walking over the parking lot. He crouched under the tape and went over to some civilians who were standing by the tent.

  ‘Excuse me, can I speak with someone?’ she called to get his attention. ‘Hello!’

  Finally, they caught sight of her. Ove said something to the others, and came toward her.

  ‘Well, you’ve found your way here, I see. Quick work, I must say.’ He looked at his watch.

  ‘Is it Lycke?’ she asked.

  ‘I can’t answer any questions at this time,’ he said in that superior tone that Ellen loathed.

  ‘Come on.’

  ‘You know how it works. We’ll probably be done here before lunch. There isn’t that much to say right now. The medical examiner is on his way and will confirm the death, and then they’ll drive her up to forensic medicine in Solna for an autopsy.’

  ‘So it is Lycke after all?’

  Ove’s gaze wandered.

  ‘But you must be able to confirm that, at least. Do I have to call someone else?’ Ellen had no desire to play cat and mouse with him.