Lycke

by Mikaela Bley

  ‘I’ll go through how she was found. I assume the school will have a memorial — we’ll do something there.’

  ‘So you’re thinking “School in sorrow”?’

  Ellen nodded.

  ‘Original,’ Jimmy said. ‘Can’t we do better?’

  ‘Back off. I’m not going to interview the parents — the tabloid reporters can do that. We can’t go in there and mess things up; we’ve already made fools of ourselves —’

  A thudding sound interrupted her. It was Agatha, who’d thrown a thick bundle of papers down on her desk.

  ‘Oh yeah, you’re not that hypocritical — there’ll be some snooping around in their private affairs going on here. Here’s the divorce agreement and the report from the custody dispute you wanted.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Ellen, regarding the pile of papers. She’d hoped that Agatha would have sifted through the mass of documents.

  ‘My God,’ Jimmy said. ‘To think that it can turn out like this. How can they have subjected their child to this?’

  ‘It’s probably better to get a divorce than to live unhappily together,’ Agatha said.

  ‘Yes, maybe. But I still think that if you have a kid you have to take responsibility. But what do I know? It’s sad, anyway. Ellen, would you please join me for a coffee?’

  Ellen squirmed.

  ‘It’s important.’

  Reluctantly, she obeyed.

  ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘Please stop asking me that.’

  ‘Okay, sorry. Listen, is it true you were mugged yesterday?’

  Ellen stopped.

  ‘Philip told me.’

  ‘What, why has he been talking to you?’

  ‘Because he’s worried. Have you talked with the police?’

  Ellen nodded.

  ‘If anything else happens, I’m taking you off this job and bringing in Leif.’

  She nodded. She didn’t have the energy to argue, but she would have to have a talk with Philip later. ‘Was there anything else you wanted?’ she asked.

  ‘No, just that …’

  Ellen turned on her heel and went back to her desk. Opening a new message, she entered Agatha’s address and attached the image of the blanket that she’d cut out from the photo of Lycke.

  Can you find out where this blanket comes from?

  Ellen

  ELLEN

  10.30 P.M.

  ‘I’ve always despised characters in horror films who go back to the scene of the crime alone or to the haunted house in the middle of the night,’ Philip said, as Ellen turned onto Valhallavägen. ‘And now I’m like one of them. I must be your very best friend.’

  ‘It’s not certain that it’s the crime scene, just because she was found there,’ Ellen corrected him.

  She needed to go back to Isbladskärret. Maybe there a few pieces of the puzzle would fall into place.

  ‘Why were you talking to Jimmy about me?’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Knock it off, he’s already told me. How could you do that to me?’

  ‘Because I’m worried.’

  ‘Can’t everybody just stop worrying?!’ she shouted, hitting the steering wheel. ‘I don’t want to hear another word about it. I just want to get on with my job — and you of all people go and talk with Jimmy.’

  ‘I said I’m sorry. But he knows the whole story. I didn’t know who I should talk to. Pretty soon, I’ll be calling your mother.’

  ‘Please, just stop.’

  For the rest of the trip, they sat in silence. Ellen couldn’t even bear to turn on the radio.

  The farther out on Djurgården they drove, the darker it got.

  ‘Can it be the date? The twenty-fifth of May?’ Ellen asked, breaking the silence.

  ‘Please, can we just try to get through this and forget everything else? Do you have anything to drink, by the way?’

  She shook her head. ‘Check in my bag … Maybe it’s a Bible chapter. Or a page reference?’ Ellen continued to think out loud.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure it is,’ he said, searching through her bag. ‘Or else Andreas was right — that thing about the day for missing children.’

  ‘Yes, with the exception that she’s no longer missing.’

  ‘True,’ he said, taking out a bottle of soda water. He opened it and water sprayed all over him. ‘Damn it!’ When the fizzing had settled, he took a gulp. ‘Could it not have something to do with Mother’s Day then?’

  Ellen considered this, even though it sounded completely absurd. ‘That was last Sunday? Didn’t she disappear on Friday?’

  ‘I take it back. There’s a reason that I work with make-up and not this sort of complicated stuff.’

  ‘No, but I’m glad you’re coming with me,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘And you owe me.’

  She slowed down as they approached Isbladskärret.

  She’d read a little about the area, and there was apparently an old pump near where Lycke’s body had been found. Built in 1904, it had been used to pump water out of the marsh, but in 1982 the Djurgård council had discontinued its operation. Since then, the lake had been left undisturbed, and it had become a boon for bird life.

  She turned the car into the parking lot.

  ‘Did you know that Crown Princess Victoria and Prince Daniel received this walkway as a wedding present? It’s called the “Love Path”,’ she said, indicating the path in front of them.

  ‘Are you joking? By who? Doesn’t the royal family already own the whole island?’

  Ellen shrugged.

  Blue-and-white tape still cordoned off the area. In one place, the tape had come loose and was fluttering in the brisk wind.

  Before them was a sea of flowers, and candles struggling against the wind to stay lit.

  Ellen left the warmth of the car and walked slowly up to the pile of tributes. Flowers and toys all jumbled together.

  ‘So awful,’ Philip said, as he came up to stand beside her.

  He leaned down and righted a wet teddy bear that had fallen and was lying with its head in the muddy grass.

  ‘Think if everyone who’s been here and left these things had instead actually cared about Lycke when she was alive,’ Ellen said, fixing her eyes on a doll in pink rain-gear that was lying on top of the pile. ‘Now that she’s dead, they make the effort. Now, people come all the way out to Djurgården and leave flowers, teddy bears, and presents for her. It was the same at the school today, when we were filming. It was as if suddenly everyone had been very close to Lycke. It makes me so sad. Don’t people understand that it’s too late now?’

  ‘Yes, but they probably feel guilty and are just trying to make up for it with flowers and such,’ Philip said. ‘I still think it’s better that they honour her with flowers than not doing anything at all.’

  ‘Yes, maybe,’ Ellen said, reading a card attached to a bouquet of red roses by a string.

  Sleep well, Lycke.

  It was a child’s handwriting. Someone who had just learned to write.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ Philip asked, leaning down and picking up a colourful toy parrot, which had fallen among the pile of stuffed animals.

  ‘You’re okay, but I’m the BEST!’ it cawed, startling them both.

  Ellen recognised it. It was the same parrot that the girls at Lycke’s school had had.

  ‘Just think, Lycke was lying here all alone for several nights.’ She shuddered and looked away toward where they had found her, by the pump.

  ‘Why just here?’ Philip was almost whispering.

  ‘Yes, that’s what I’d like to know …’

  She looked around, not knowing what she was searching for. Something that would lead her closer to the truth. She was looking for a feeling. Or just something.

  ‘It’s a fair di
stance from the Royal Tennis Hall. At least fifteen minutes by car. I don’t understand. The road here leads nowhere; it ends here. You can drive around the island, but then what?’ she said, walking up to the police tape. With every step she took, there was a squelching sound as her feet stuck in the muddy ground.

  Djurgården, which was normally such a lively place, was deserted in the rain — and it was for that reason the murderer was able to bring Lycke here without drawing any attention to themselves. But then, it also might not have been planned. No one knew it would be raining so heavily, she thought.

  An abrupt scream made her freeze.

  She hardly dared move. Where had it come from?

  Cautiously, she turned her head and looked around. Philip was standing stock still by the pile of flowers and stuffed animals, looking just as terrified.

  There was another scream, and she jerked her head in the direction she thought it had come from. Shortly after that, she heard the sound of large wings flapping through the air.

  A bird.

  She breathed out, reminding herself that Isbladskärret was known for its rich bird life. But such a shriek?

  Her nerves were still jangling, making it hard to focus, but at the same time, her senses felt sharper than ever. She glanced over toward the parking lot.

  The murderer couldn’t have been in much of a hurry. First, he or she must have carried Lycke over and then had swathed her in the blanket.

  Was she killed here, or earlier elsewhere? Could it be that she had walked here on her own? Ellen would have to check on that. How had her feet or shoes looked? Were they muddy?

  The murderer had left no trace of themselves behind. Ove said that was due to the rain, but maybe the murderer was practised, and had known what he was doing.

  ‘Can we go now?’ Philip called from over by the police-tape barrier.

  She began slowly walking back. The crime scene now behind her, she could feel her primal instincts begin to take hold. She wanted to run away from there as fast as she could, but she fought against it, making herself walk even slower. She tried to think of what she should do next. She’d already been in contact with the Djurgård management office, and they had no knowledge of anything out of the ordinary taking place. She’d included a brief sound bite from them in a story. One of the managers talking about how they had helped the police with their investigation.

  ‘You drive. I’m going to write down a few thoughts,’ she said, making for the passenger side.

  ‘Sure,’ Philip said, jumping into the driver’s seat. ‘Hello, Pink Mist. Now let’s make some spray.’ He looked at Ellen as he put the car into gear. ‘Sorry. I have to joke. Otherwise, it gets too much.’

  Ellen nodded, wishing she could do the same.

  Philip revved the engine a few times, and then took off up the hill. As they flew over the crest, a bright light blinded them.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Philip slowed, bringing the car to a stop.

  Ellen double-checked that the car doors were locked, and then peered out into the dark night. The rain made it even harder to see anything. She turned around in her seat and tried to see what was behind them.

  ‘Back up,’ she told him.

  ‘What? Good Lord, you’re out of your mind. Right into the trap!’

  ‘Get a grip. Just do as I say.’

  Philip put the car in reverse, and they rolled slowly backwards.

  ‘Okay, we can go now,’ she said.

  He looked at her with surprise. ‘What? Just like that?’

  ‘You’ll have to pay.’

  ‘Pay?’

  ‘It was a speed camera. You got caught.’ She smiled. ‘And it’ll probably be expensive. The limit is probably only twenty here.’

  ‘What? They have speed cameras on Djurgården? The King’s island? Does he allow that?’ Philip sighed. ‘Well, well. I hope it was a good picture at least.’

  ‘Perhaps the person who murdered Lycke was also in a hurry to get out of here.’

  Philip shot her a perplexed look. ‘But don’t you think the police have checked that?’

  ‘I’m sure they have, but they don’t tell us reporters everything.’

  She took out her phone and emailed Agatha, asking her to check if anyone had been caught on Friday by the speed camera here.

  ELLEN

  12.00 A.M.

  Ellen pulled on her big knitted cardigan and tried to warm up.

  The bundle of papers containing all the reports that had been made regarding the custody dispute over Lycke was even thicker than she remembered.

  She really should have gone straight to bed, but had decided to go through the pile. Not because she knew what she was searching for, but because there was something that didn’t add up about the Höök family — and she was going to find out what it was.

  She had to find out. I must focus, she told herself.

  Sinking down on the couch, she set the documents out on the big, round table to get an overview. But first, she needed a glass of wine.

  When she opened the wine fridge, she noted that it would soon need to be refilled. Luckily, there were still a few bottles of her favourite wine left.

  There was a small popping sound as she uncorked the wine, and the aroma alone helped soothe her nerves. She took out a big glass and filled it to the brim. Taking a few sips, she looked at the pictures on the wall, letting her gaze wander between the images of Lycke and Elsa. She closed her eyes and recalled the image that Ove had sent her.

  She slapped herself on the cheek.

  ‘Focus, Ellen, focus,’ she said out loud, and sat down on the couch.

  She started by reading the court decision, where it was decided that the parents would have joint custody of Lycke. It was further established that Lycke would alternate living with each parent, with the handover taking place on Mondays.

  She then closely read the summary, which contained information provided by individuals who had testified in the case, such as the parents and cited witnesses. Because of Lycke’s young age, no consultations with her had taken place.

  Ellen took a sip of wine. And then another.

  In the interview with Harald, he had maintained that Helena suffered from some type of post-partum depression and subsequently still had a hard time bonding with her daughter. Lycke’s mother denied this in her interviews. She admitted that she’d had problems immediately following the birth, but she had recovered after a few months — a statement which had also been confirmed by the hospital records.

  Helena then countered this by attacking Harald for having betrayed and then left them; thereby, in her eyes, he had given up the right to see his daughter.

  So it went on. Page after page.

  Attorneys, parents, relatives — and a little girl, caught in the middle of all this.

  Presumably, it had been like any other custody dispute. Accusations that came to the surface during the interviews, but which didn’t hold up in court.

  Lycke’s mother, for instance, stated that, on several occasions, Harald had looked strangely at his daughter as she was bathing. Not in a way that a father normally looks at his daughter. Ellen looked up, not wanting to read any more, but then forced herself to continue.

  Several examples were rattled off, and the negotiations changed direction as a result of these allegations. A pause had to be taken.

  Ellen sighed loudly, feeling ill at ease. Jimmy doesn’t have to hear of this, she thought. It can’t come out.

  Poor, poor little Lycke. Ellen tried to picture Harald. She had a hard time imagining him doing something so loathsome.

  But what if it were true? Had Lycke been sexually abused by her father? Or was it the final desperate attempt by the mother to get sole custody?

  She poured herself some more wine, then emptied the glass at a gulp and continued reading.
>
  Physical and mental examinations had been made of Lycke. Nothing indicated that she had been sexually abused.

  She was noted to be withdrawn, shy, introverted. But there was no diagnosis of a mental disorder.

  The interviews intensified.

  The parents continued to rain accusations down on each other.

  Ellen poured more wine. Taking a big sip, she decided that, after this glass, it would have to be enough.

  Many pages later, she read how the mother had taken back the accusations made against Harald. So she had falsely accused her ex-husband of the worst thing imaginable. How could she do that to Harald? Above all, how could she do that to her daughter?

  It was strange, too, that Harald had agreed to only have Lycke every other weekend but then Helena had suddenly protested, saying: ‘Why should I have to take care of everything? I want to share custody completely. He’s not getting off that easy.’ End of quote.

  Furthermore, Harald’s new wife demanded a paternity test be carried out. What made her question that Harald truly was Lycke’s father?

  Ellen quickly skimmed further along to see what the result of the test had been. Harald Höök was confirmed as Lycke’s father. It was decided that they would have joint custody.

  Jealousy, hate, and selfishness. That was what the entire document was about. Ellen pushed the bundle of papers angrily to the side and rested her head in her hands.

  Could one of them have gone too far? She turned over a piece of paper and started jotting words down.

  Paternity test

  Post-partum depression

  Bonding difficulties

  False accusations

  Envy

  Greed

  My God, she thought, getting up. She poured herself more wine and then sank back down among the couch cushions.

  The issue now was about reading between the lines. She closed her eyes, but only saw Lycke before her.

  Suddenly, it struck her. Now she remembered.

  When she stood up, her head was spinning. She staggered over to the ‘Shelf of Death’ and climbed up one step to reach the shelf dedicated to murder sites. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?