The Fire Dance

by Helene Tursten

  “We secured hair from her hairbrush. There’s more than enough hair in her bedroom at the Änggården mansion.”

  Svante paused for dramatic effect. He looked out over the collection of police officers to make sure they were paying attention.

  “The most valuable piece of concrete evidence is that we have found one of her palm prints on the wall above the toilet.”

  Irene looked at her boss, Superintendent Andersson, and said, “So, we have proof that Sophie was kept prisoner in Björkil. Our suspicions are now directed toward a specific suspect: Frej. Her half-brother. He had access to the farm during his aunt’s absence. Ingrid Hagberg was…oh my God! The Norwegian sweater!”

  Her colleagues looked at her in surprise. Jonny Blom whispered theatrically to Hannu, “There she goes again.”

  Irene ignored Jonny and eagerly began to explain. “Those silver clasps came from a Norwegian sweater, and I know where I’ve seen it before!”

  She glared at Jonny, who was circling his finger against his temple while rolling his eyes. When he stopped, she continued: “I talked to Ingrid Hagberg fifteen years ago, when I investigated the fire at Björkil—the one where Magnus Eriksson died. It was a cold winter day in February, and Ingrid was wearing a beautiful sweater in various shades of blue. I’m absolutely certain that this was the same sweater Sophie was wearing when she died. She was probably freezing cold in that stable, even with a heater.”

  “You spoke to Ingrid Hagberg back then?” Sven Andersson demanded, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Just a short conversation,” Irene said, trying for nonchalance and avoiding Andersson’s gaze.

  In order to direct her boss’s thoughts elsewhere, she said, “Last Friday I was having a pizza, and I realized that Sophie had already told us what happened fifteen years ago. She never lied. She could be silent, but she never lied.”

  Irene took another twenty minutes to explain her train of thought to her colleagues. An additional five minutes went by while she tried to convince her boss that she was on the right track. Grudgingly, he agreed to let Irene and Tommy finish up Sophie’s murder investigation. One justification for his decision was that their workload lightened when the narcotics division had been brought into the gang killings. If all went well, they’d soon be bringing in the entire bunch.

  Nurse Ulla opened the door for them and smiled warmly at Tommy, so much so that Irene took note of it. The nurse had never given her a smile so filled with sunshine.

  “I’ll go with you,” she twittered, with a new smile toward Tommy. “Ingrid is still weak from her latest episode.”

  Irene thought it was odd how many women thought Tommy was attractive. In her eyes he was just average looking. His brown hair was always cut short. His brown eyes matched his hair. He was just a few inches taller than she was, and he wasn’t in good shape since he didn’t exercise. A slight beer belly was beginning to form, too, and Irene had teased him about it. He didn’t let her get to him.

  “Women like love handles. Can’t lose!” Tommy would reply and smile mischievously.

  Nurse Ulla seemed to conform to his assertion. She swung her hips as she walked in front of them toward the elevator.

  As they rode up, she said, “The truth is, Ingrid is a bit confused right now. More mixed up than before. And she’s often sad. The doctors are going to come take a look at her tomorrow.”

  The mechanical voice informed them they’d reached the fourth floor. The elevator came to a smooth stop. The nurse went to Ingrid’s apartment door and unlocked it.

  “Hello, Ingrid! It’s me, Ulla. I have two people who want to talk to you,” she called out into the apartment.

  They could hear soft whimpering in the bedroom. Nurse Ulla led the way. The room had only room for the bed, a small nightstand and a small dresser. With three grown people, the room felt like a streetcar during rush hour. They stood rigidly upright close to each other.

  “I’ll head back out,” Tommy said, and walked out to the living room.

  Ingrid looked ashen-faced and still very ill. It was clear she’d gone through an extreme medical crisis. The scars on her forehead shone bright red against her pale hairline.

  “Ingrid, this is Irene Huss. Do you remember her?” asked the nurse.

  Ingrid’s thin eyelids fluttered. She opened them halfway and began to look around. When her gaze fastened on Irene, she said, “The policewoman.” Her voice was thin and shaking, but her sour tone could not be mistaken. She closed her eyes again to shut out the unwelcome guest.

  Irene cleared her throat and said, “I hope you will be able to answer a few questions for me.”

  “I know nothing about the girl. I never saw her after…after…” Ingrid began angrily, but she didn’t have the energy to complete her sentence.

  “I know. You never saw her again after the fire fifteen years ago. But that is the fire I want to talk to you about.”

  “Too long ago…I don’t want to…” Ingrid grumbled.

  She seems clear in her head right now at any rate, Irene thought. How confused was she really? She had to determine if the old lady was counterfeiting confusion so she wouldn’t have to answer. Considering the secret she’d been carrying all those years, she must be a great actress.

  “Before Sophie died, she wrote down exactly what happened the night the cottage at Björkil burned down. It took us a while to figure it out, because she wrote it in ‘ballet language’. Now, however, we understand her description of the course of events.”

  Irene paused so that what she’d told the old woman had a chance to sink in. At the same time, Irene thought again about the ballet performance she’d seen. The Fire Dance contained the truth.

  The party guests began to yawn, lie down, and fall asleep. The light diminished and the scene had a twilight feel. Only the Prince was still awake. He’d found a bottle and drunk what was left in it. On unsteady legs, he got up and began to stagger to the tower. Since the Guardian was not at her post, he had no trouble opening the door to the tower.

  “You told me yourself that you picked up Frej at the bus that afternoon. Your brother had told you he was going downtown and asked you to take care of the boy. Then you and Frej had dinner. Then he fell asleep and slept until eight thirty that night. Is this true?”

  Not a single muscle twitched in Ingrid’s haggard face, but Irene felt that she was listening intensely. Calmly, Irene continued: “Sophie’s story is different. According to her version, she came home at the usual time in order to get ready and pick up her ballet things. Frej was already in the house.

  He was tipsy. He had found one of his father’s bottles, and he’d drunk quite a bit. It doesn’t take much to make an eight-year-old drunk. It wasn’t Frej who’d fallen asleep after dinner. It was you. Sophie probably called you because she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to miss her ride, because then she would also miss ballet class, the most important thing in Sophie’s life. So, she called you before she biked away to the convenience store. There was a time gap between when she left and when you arrived. Let’s say, ten to fifteen minutes. During that time, Frej began to play with fire. When you arrived…”

  “Go away!” Ingrid began to scream. “Go away! Get out of here!”

  Her shriek was the most heart-rending thing Irene had heard. Nurse Ulla came rushing through the bedroom door. Irene had not even noticed she’d left—presumably to spend more time with Tommy in the living room.

  “What are you trying to do? Are you trying to be the death of poor Ingrid?”

  Irene stretched to her full height and held up a warning finger toward the red, indignant face of the nurse.

  “If ‘poor Ingrid’ had told the truth fifteen years ago, an innocent young girl would not have had to suffer so terribly. Perhaps she might not have been murdered!” Irene snapped at the nurse.

  Right away, Irene regretted saying it, but it shut the nurse up.

  Ingrid had also fallen silent and lay there with her eyes closed and her lips fir
mly pressed together. Irene would get nothing more from her.

  Sophie had told the truth. The Guardian had existed in real life.

  * * *

  Angelika had just finished her last class for the day when they reached her by phone at the House of Dance. Very unwillingly she agreed to go directly to the police station to meet Tommy and Irene.

  The first thing she did when she arrived was apologize for not having taken a shower and changed. She’d have to wait until she got home, she’d said while giving Tommy a coquettish look. She still wore her leotard underneath her coat. From her body came the scent of body-heated perfume, which was not at all unpleasant. The aroma gave her a strong, sensual attraction. She again ignored Irene completely. Apparently, Angelika never noticed any woman if there was a man in the room. She found her affirmation solely from men.

  Tommy appeared to give her all the attention she needed. In reciprocation, Angelika flirted with giggles and suggestive glances. Tommy’s head was being turned.

  Irene felt like a piece of furniture. An ugly, clunky piece badly placed. Certainly not something deserving attention.

  Irene was tired of playing the role of third wheel. She decided to begin her questioning, no help coming from Tommy.

  “Perhaps you’re wanting to know why we asked you here,” Irene began.

  Her statement seemed unnecessarily brusque, but it forced Angelika to look at her.

  “Go ahead and sit down,” Irene said.

  Tommy pulled out a chair for Angelika to sit on. He looked at Irene quizzically and pointed to the other chair, but Irene shook her head. Tommy quickly took it instead.

  Irene cleared her throat before the first question. “This morning we talked to your former sister-in-law, Ingrid Hagberg. As you know, she has just recovered from another diabetic coma. Someone gave her a box of the sweetest nougat imaginable.”

  Angelika crossed one leg over the other and began to jiggle her foot in its stylish boot. It was the only indication that she was actually listening.

  “We have found your fingerprints on the bag the candy came in. How would you like to explain this?”

  The tiny figure stiffened and her foot stopped jiggling. She swallowed a few times. Finally, she was able to say, “That’s impossible…I didn’t…”

  “They are your fingerprints,” Irene insisted, without taking her gaze from the woman.

  Angelika could not endure Irene’s look, and she looked over to Tommy. Tommy was not able to offer support. He still had a smile, but his eyes held the same question that Irene had just asked. A question that needed a good answer.

  “Maybe I left a bag there,” she muttered.

  “When would this have been?” Irene asked.

  “Don’t remember…”

  “When I met you a week ago, you told me that Ingrid did not let you in. I watched you enter the building and then come out, so your statement seemed most likely true. You also told me that you and Ingrid hadn’t been in touch for over fifteen years.”

  Irene let her words drop off and kept her eyes on Angelika, who kept her gaze fixed on a spot close to Irene’s shoe.

  “So when were you in her apartment?”

  Silence.

  Irene continued, “The truth is, you weren’t in her apartment at all. You came through the front door and then stuffed the bag holding the box of candy through the mail slot. You knew that she wouldn’t be able to resist it.”

  Angelika hadn’t moved, but Irene knew that she was listening and that she was nervous, as she had every reason to be.

  “Did Frej ask you to bring Ingrid the…”

  “Frej didn’t know anything!” Angelika yelled and jumped out of the chair. Her eyes were shimmering with rage, and it looked as if she wanted to punch Irene.

  “So? Frej knew nothing. How was I supposed to know this? He will inherit everything from his aunt, and we know that the sale of her farm will bring in a fortune,” Irene said, calmly.

  Angelika swallowed hard a few times and then said, “I…I took his keys. That is, Ingrid’s keys.”

  All her instinct to fight deserted her and she sank back onto the chair.

  “Where did you get them?” Irene asked.

  “From the Änggården mansion. He wasn’t home when I took them. He’d put them on the work table in his darkroom.”

  “Which keys were on the ring?”

  “The keys for the farm and for the apartment.”

  “So you used Ingrid’s keys to get into her building.”

  Angelika nodded, and it appeared she was about to start crying.

  “When were you at Ingrid’s place?”

  “Wednesday. About six.”

  That was when Irene was talking to Frej in his darkroom.

  He’d been so stressed he’d probably forgotten that he’d put the key ring on his worktable. He probably hadn’t missed them, either. At least, he hadn’t said anything to Irene about them.

  “Did you take the elevator?”

  “No, the stairs,” Angelika replied in a low voice.

  “You met no one on the stairs.”

  Angelika shook her head and wiped away the tears that started running down her cheeks.

  “When did you put the keys back?”

  “The same evening. I knew Frej was taking capoeira and would be home late. He knew absolutely nothing about any of this! I did it on my own! I was the only one involved!”

  Tommy leaned over and placed a hand on Angelika’s arm. “Why did you, Angelika?”

  She gave him a confused look and said, “I can’t tell you!”

  Her tears turned into heart-breaking sobs. Tommy took a box of paper tissues and handed it to her.

  When she had calmed slightly, Irene said, “Angelika. I attended the premiere of The Fire Dance. I remember your face as you ran from the building. You looked scared to death, as if you’d seen a ghost. You certainly knew enough about dance to interpret the story Sophie had put in her creation.”

  Irene paused for effect. Angelika sat and stared at her with a paper tissue pressed to her nose. Her eyes were wide with fear.

  The Guardian had found the peacefully sleeping Prince, who was holding the bottle so tenderly in his arms. She resolutely pulled him to his feet and hid him beneath the Queen’s wide skirts. The Guardian took off her cape and flung it over the Queen’s shoulders to help hide the Prince. The trick worked as none of the other guests saw how the two women took the Prince away from the scene.

  “Sophie’s Fire Dance is the true story of what happened at Björkil so long ago when the fire broke out. Ingrid was the Guardian and you were the Queen. Together, the two of you have been protecting Prince Frej all these years. You were able to keep him out of the investigation. No one knew that he had been at the house that afternoon except three people: you, Ingrid, and Sophie. Sophie protected her brother in the only way she knew: by keeping silent. And you kept silent, too.”

  “It was that old hag’s fault! If she hadn’t fallen asleep, nothing would have happened! She was responsible for him, but when she fell asleep, he sneaked out!”

  “He went home.”

  “Yes,” Angelika whispered.

  “Did he know that his father was home?”

  Angelika said nothing for a while, but then she shook her head. “No. Magnus was sleeping on the second floor. The house was dark. Frej didn’t think anyone was at home, and I believe he was unhappy to come home with nobody there. Or he thought no one was there. The door must have been unlocked, so he could walk right in. I don’t know where he found one of Magnus’s bottles, but they were often lying around everywhere…I also don’t know why he drank what he found…but kids are like that. They try things. He was so little!”

  She was pleading as she said those words. Irene could understand her a bit. A mother is inclined to ignore and explain away anything to protect her child. In this case, however, it came at the price of her other child. This Irene found more difficult to comprehend.

  “You told me
earlier that Sophie was fascinated by fire at an early age. But it was really Frej you were talking about, right?”

  Angelika opened her mouth to say something, but then realized that words weren’t necessary. The fear in her eyes revealed everything.

  Interrogating Frej went well. In the beginning, he’d refused to answer the questions the police asked him, but in time he was ready to talk.

  At first, he just answered in short syllables, but the urge to tell all about what happened soon made itself known, and then the words flowed so quickly it was hard to get him to stop. Irene played the recorded interrogation several times.

  She felt sad and sorrowful each time she listened to it.

  Family secrets. The things that everyone knew but no one was supposed to talk about. As long as everyone kept quiet, the secret was invisible. The truth was still there like a wound ready to burst. The lies that were spun around it would keep growing like a cancer until the whole thing could no longer be contained and erupted all at once. The one frightful thing everyone was afraid of.

  The truth.

  Angelika, Ingrid and Sophie had all conspired to protect Frej. Had their silence actually helped him, or did it make his guilt grow along with their own?

  Irene kept starting the tape where Frej revealed what happened on the night of September 24th when Sophie disappeared from the Park Aveny Hotel:

  Frej: We had, like, a code. When we saw a fire truck. Or if we saw…something good. Something to set fire to…that is…Sophie wanted photographs, of course. So we texted ‘FIRE’ and then we would meet at a predetermined place. That night I saw a really old shed, and I thought it was time…to set it on fire…out at Skrabro. Each time I’d drive over to Ingrid’s place, I’d see it. It was just fifty meters from the road. I knew it was going to be torn down…they were going to build a shopping center. So I sent my text and she got it while she was going up the stairs at the hotel. They were supposed to have an after party at that old man’s suite…the one she’s related to…that author. There’s another staircase at the back of the hotel, and she just went right back down…I’d parked my car behind the hotel…there’s a parking lot there. We drove out to Björlandavägen and out to Skrabro. The shed was there. It was already falling down, and they were going to get rid of it anyway…so, we, like, poured on some lighter fluid and lit it up. Then things went wrong because an old guy from a house down the road came running and started to yell at us. That son of a bitch had a rifle and started to shoot at us! Sophie was terrified and began to run to the car. She fell into a ditch. She didn’t notice right away that she’d hurt her arm. We threw ourselves into the car and drove off as fast as we could. Sophie yelled, “We have to hide! He’s going to call the police, and they’re going to set up roadblocks!” I believed her—at least then. So we drove to Björkil because I had the keys to Ingrid’s farm. We drove the car straight into the stable so that it wouldn’t be seen. Sophie was out of her mind with hysteria. I’ve never seen her like that! She just lost it completely! She wanted to hide in the office in the stable, so that no one would think we were, like, burglars or something and start shooting at us. She went on and on about that guy. She was completely out of it! And…she’d been smoking pot—