by Karin Nordin
‘What do you know so far?’
‘It hasn’t been confirmed officially, or at least no one’s told us yet, but after talking to my father I suspect the body is that of Peter Lindqvist. He was the head of a mining company just north of here. Been in the area for generations. I found a photograph of him and my father as young men. Dad says they were friends. They were stationed together during their conscription service period. According to Dad he broke his leg during a training exercise. And the pathologist said the body we found had an old leg injury as well.’ Kjeld rubbed his chin. He needed a shave. ‘But there’s another man who’s missing. Valle Dahl. He was something of a town drunk. He was also in one of the photographs.’
‘Are all small towns full of suspicious disappearances or just the one you’re from?’
‘I did meet one man from the photographs. A lawyer named Erik Norberg. Some hotshot with an office in Stockholm. I found his number in my dad’s things. I suspect he might also work for the Lindqvist family. Or at least for their company.’
‘He’s a corporate attorney?’ Esme asked.
‘Contract law.’ Kjeld shook his head. ‘There’s some kind of connection between my father and this company, but whatever it is I can’t see it. All I know is that he was close enough with the owner that he and my mother used to attend their Christmas parties. But I think it stopped shortly after my sister was born.’
‘Did they ever talk about them when you were growing up?’
‘Not that I remember. And I don’t remember anyone ever coming by the house. My dad kept us pretty isolated. He didn’t like people so much. Nature was always more important to him. Still is. Those damn birds are practically his legacy.’
‘And the car?’
Kjeld pulled up the photo on his phone. Esme studied it with a grim stare.
‘Have you told the local police about it?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Kjeld …’ She refrained from scolding him, but Kjeld could practically hear what she was thinking.
‘I know. And I will tell them about it. Just as soon as I know how it got there.’
‘As soon as you have control of it, you mean.’
Kjeld knew what she was getting at. She was suggesting that he was withholding information from Gunnar because he was afraid of the consequences. That vehicle, if it had anything to do with the man buried in his father’s barn, could implicate his father in the man’s death. It could be proof that his father had murdered a man. And whatever feud Kjeld had with his father, he didn’t want that to be true.
‘When I have more information, I’ll tell the police,’ Kjeld said. ‘I promise. But first I have to see how all of the pieces fit together. And right now I can’t see the forest for the trees.’
Esme held her mug in front of her with both hands. That was her thinking pose. Kjeld had seen it often enough in their office. So many cups of coffee had gone cold while Esme Jansson worked through the thoughts in her mind. It was like a self-induced trance. She had an uncanny ability to visualise things in her mind. Not quite an eidetic memory, but something she referred to as puzzling or, as she sometimes liked to clarify it to others, the ability to put together the picture of something in her mind before ever seeing the pieces. It had gained her the reputation among their colleagues of being a little bit odd, but that might have explained why Kjeld had eventually taken a liking to her. They were both outcasts among outcasts in a way.
She brought the mug to her lips, took a sip, and seemed surprised that the coffee wasn’t scalding. The trance was over. ‘So as far as I can tell you have two major questions that need answering. The first, did your father do it? And the second, regardless of who murdered this man, whether it’s Lindqvist or not, why? I’m including all the whys in one for the sake of simplicity, but most importantly, why him? Why here? Why dig him up now?’
It wasn’t until Esme went into full investigation mode that Kjeld realised how relieved he was to have someone else – someone he trusted – involved in the case. And while he struggled with the fact that Esme might learn more about his life before becoming that detective in Gothenburg, the one who was known for being as reckless as he was determined when it came to his cases, he was pleased to have her by his side. With any luck she would help him to see the situation from a more impartial perspective. Perhaps she could even help him to ignore his prejudice, which had spilled over to everything this investigation touched – his father, Varsund, Gunnar, his memories of the past.
Kjeld tried to treat it like any other case in his mind. What were the major motives for murder? Kjeld remembered sitting in a lecture at the police college when a guest speaker from the University of Copenhagen gave a talk on the five basic reasons why a person committed murder. Listed from least to most common these motives were: war, hate, politics, revenge, and jealousy. Kjeld remembered the lecture so well because afterwards there had been a heated debate about the difference between revenge and jealousy. More than half of the students in attendance felt that revenge and jealousy went hand in hand. That a person couldn’t possess the desire to seek revenge without first expressing some form of jealousy and vice versa, that murders based on envy were at the core a kind of revenge. Most of the students were thinking about cheating spouses, of course.
But Kjeld remembered sitting there in the curved seats of the auditorium and thinking that a child who was beaten his entire life could want revenge against the parent who hurt him. Or that a woman who was raped could kill her rapist in revenge. He also thought he remembered stories about American soldiers returning home only to receive poor integration counselling from their government-sponsored healthcare providers and murdering their doctors as revenge for their wives and families leaving them. Kjeld agreed with the lecturer. He didn’t think revenge had to have a basis of jealousy for someone to use it as a motive. Likewise, he could see how someone might kill solely as an act of envy, completely isolated from an act of retaliation. Wasn’t that a basic human condition, after all? Wanting what somebody else had?
The image of Nils on the docks popped into his mind and Kjeld shook it away. ‘Whether my father was involved or not, I think it has to have something to do with the Lindqvists’ mining company. That’s the only thing that makes sense right now.’
Oskar scooped another pawful of kibble onto the floor and crunched them between his teeth one at a time.
Esme reached across the table and placed a hand on Kjeld’s. She gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. ‘Then that’s where we’ll start.’
Chapter 30
Kjeld sat on his father’s bed, deleting Esme’s missed-call messages from his phone. The house was eerily still. Even the birds had settled down for the night, leaving Kjeld with the uncomfortable feeling of being completely alone in the universe. And were it not for the fact that he knew his partner was asleep in the room across the hall, he might have even believed it.
Knowing that Esme was there to help was like a breath of fresh air to Kjeld’s restless mind. It was crazy, of course. Driving all of that way just because he refused to answer his calls, but Kjeld appreciated it. It was a reminder that he didn’t exist in a vacuum. That even though he sometimes was alone or felt alone, he wasn’t. Not completely. There was always someone whose life was affected by his absence. And even though he would probably spend the next few years joking with her about the time she drove halfway across the country just to deliver his cat and berate him about ignoring her messages, he knew he would do the same for her. Esme had been there for him during some of his darker moments. She knew better than anyone how easily he could slip into that terrifying bleakness that followed an episode of tragedy. And he suspected that she believed he was more affected by the situation with Nils than he was letting on.
His thoughts drifted back to the nightmares he’d been having. He could still picture them clearly in his mind – Nils raising his weapon, Esme shouting in the background, Tove staring up at him with fearful eyes, the rain matting down her curls and t
earing over her freckled face. Tove hadn’t been there when the shootout actually occurred, but for some reason his subconscious persisted on inserting her into the moment. Kjeld’s heart raced just thinking about it.
It could have been worse. It could have been so much worse.
He suddenly had the need to hear her voice.
Kjeld scrolled through his contacts until he came to Bengt’s name. He hesitated, just long enough to take a deep breath and slow his heart rate, then pressed the call button.
The phone rang four times before Bengt answered.
‘Do you know what time it is?’ Bengt’s voice was groggy, half asleep.
Kjeld glanced at his father’s alarm clock. It was almost midnight.
‘I’m sorry,’ Kjeld said. ‘Can I talk to Tove?’
There was another voice in the background. It was muffled, but Kjeld could hear the complaining whine in its tone. After a pause, which Kjeld interpreted as Bengt moving to another room, his ex gave an exhausted sigh. ‘She’s in bed, Kjeld. Can’t this wait until the morning?’
‘Not really.’
The line went quiet. Kjeld, all too accustomed to Bengt’s silences, frowned. And when he couldn’t wait any longer, knowing that Bengt could easily hang up on him, he begged. ‘Please, Bengt? I just need to hear her voice. I just need to make sure she’s okay.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine. I’m—’ Kjeld took a deep breath. ‘It’s been a trying week.’
‘Give me a minute.’
Kjeld took the phone away from his ear and pressed the speaker button. He could hear the sound of Bengt’s voice, quiet and calm, waking Tove up. Kjeld imagined her curled up against her stuffed animals and her polka-dot bedsheets. Was she still sucking her thumb at night? He felt guilty that he didn’t know.
‘Daddy?’
Kjeld breathed a sigh of relief when he heard her voice. An unconscious smile crossed his lips. ‘Hey, sweetheart. How are you?’
‘I’m sleepy,’ she said with a yawn.
‘I know. I’m sorry I called so late. I just missed you.’
‘I miss you, too, Daddy. Are you coming to visit soon?’
‘I hope so. I’m going to try to. Would you like that?’
‘I’d like to go to the zoo.’
‘Maybe we can do that the next time I come over.’
‘Okay.’ Tove yawned again.
‘I’m going to say goodnight now, sweetheart. You can give the phone back to Papa. I love you.’
‘Love you, too.’
Kjeld turned off the speakerphone and brought the mobile to his ear. On the other end of the line was the faint sound of Bengt tucking Tove back into bed. A minute later he was back. It was impossible for Kjeld to ignore the worry in Bengt’s voice and he didn’t know if he should feel angry, relieved, elated or sad.
‘What’s going on, Kjeld?’
‘I’ve made so many mistakes. I don’t know where or how to begin to fix them.’
‘Well I wouldn’t recommend starting in the middle of the night.’
Kjeld laughed. ‘Yeah. Fair point.’
‘Look, I have to be up early for work,’ Bengt said.
Kjeld thought he heard him hesitate, but he may have just imagined it. ‘I know. I’m sorry I woke you.’
‘Are you at home?’
The question should have been innocuous, but Kjeld knew what it really meant. He’d never been the kind of person who drowned his sorrows and depression in a bottle of vodka until he blacked out, but he’d had his benders in the past. Although his had usually been prefaced with an indulgence of prescription medications and the occasional dose of E. But it had been years since he’d fallen that low. Long before the situation with Nils or his father.
‘I’m at my dad’s place.’ As an afterthought Kjeld added, ‘Esme’s with me.’
‘Good. All right, well, I suppose I’ll see you in a few weeks for your weekend. You won’t forget this time, will you?’
‘No,’ Kjeld said. ‘I won’t forget.’
‘I hope not. She’s looking forward to it,’ Bengt said. ‘Goodnight, Kjeld.’
‘Goodnight, Bengt.’ Kjeld held on to the line, waiting to see if Bengt would say something more. What he was hoping to hear, however, Kjeld wasn’t sure. Or, perhaps he simply wasn’t willing to admit.
The phone beeped. The call had been ended.
Kjeld dropped the phone on the empty side of the bed and lay down. He stared up at the ceiling for what felt like hours before he finally closed his eyes. Then he waited for the nightmares to come, but they didn’t.
Chapter 31
Onsdag | Wednesday
The persistent pressing of claws into his cheek and the high-pitched wail of a cat who thought he was hungry woke Kjeld from another restless sleep. He focused his eyes in the darkness to the digital alarm clock on his father’s nightstand. The red numbers glared back at him: 4.57.
‘Couldn’t you have at least waited three more minutes?’ Kjeld grumbled.
Oskar responded by lifting his back leg in a ballerina pose and licking the soft fur on his neutered balls.
‘Arsehole cat.’
Kjeld pulled on a sweatshirt, which quickly reminded him that he needed to do laundry, and crept down the stairs as quietly as possible so as not to disturb Esme in the other room.
When Esme came down an hour later, showered, dressed, and looking like the chipper early bird that she was, Kjeld was sitting on the back-porch steps smoking a cigarette and eating a hardboiled egg. He didn’t really start functioning until after lunch and that was on a good day. In contrast, Esme was always ready to hit the ground running.
She sat down beside him and immediately turned up her nose. ‘Chrissakes, Kjeld. You’re rank.’
‘I haven’t had time to do laundry,’ he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke away from her.
‘Do the world a favour and at least shower. Or brush your teeth.’
Kjeld ran his tongue over his front teeth as though expecting to find some kind of greasy film that could account for the smell. He just assumed it was a combination of the cold egg and the cigarette smoke that bothered her. His hygiene wasn’t that bad. Esme was just unnecessarily tuned in to the odours of other people.
‘What, are you pregnant or something?’
She jabbed an elbow into his arm.
‘Watch it now! Fuck, Esme. It was a joke.’
‘You can’t joke about that kind of shit, arsehole. That’s what gets people written up for sexual harassment.’
Kjeld flicked the ash from the cigarette onto the step beside his boot. ‘Are you feeling sexually harassed?’
‘No, I have hyperosmia, but that’s beside the point.’ She crossed her arms over her chest and clenched her fingers into her wool sweater. ‘It’s fuckin’ freezing out here.’
‘It’s warmer than yesterday.’ Kjeld tossed the rest of the egg in his mouth. When he asked his next question he did so with his mouth full. ‘Hyper-what?’
‘Hyperosmia. It means I have an increased olfactory acuity.’
Kjeld stared blankly at her.
‘A heightened sense of smell,’ she clarified.
‘Yeah, I know what olfactory acuity means. How is it you’ve never told me that before? I didn’t know people could just get that.’
‘Because it’s none of your business and normally you don’t smell like a wet dog who’s been digging his nose in the garbage.’ She tugged her sweater up around her neck. ‘And you don’t just get it. It’s genetic. Well, in my case it’s genetic. So trust me, you need to take a fuckin’ shower.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Kjeld said, but his tone was only half-mocking. He might give Esme a hard time on occasion, but in almost all matters she was right. And he already knew from the moment he slipped on his unwashed sweatshirt that he smelled.
‘You got anything to eat other than eggs?’
Kjeld stubbed out the cigarette on the porch. ‘Bread and cheese, I think.’
�
�Vegan,’ Esme said, looking at him with a “come on, I know you know this” gaze.
‘Don’t you usually put creamer in your coffee?’
‘Nobody’s perfect.’
‘Shit, Esme. Before you know it you’ll be wallowing with the rest of us carnivores.’
She rolled her eyes and stood up. ‘I’m going to put on the coffee. It’s too damn cold out here.’
‘You’re such a southerner,’ Kjeld said, inwardly cringing at how much that comment made him sound like his father.
‘Better that than hypothermic,’ she replied. ‘Go take a shower. I’ll see if I can’t find anything healthy for breakfast.’
Kjeld used the railing to pull himself up to a stand. He scratched at the hairs along the side of his jaw. They were long enough to tug on now. ‘Guess I should probably shave.’
Esme stopped in the doorway and looked back at him. ‘I wouldn’t. It looks good on you.’
‘Really?’
Esme stared at him and for a moment Kjeld thought she was doing that thing she did with her mind. He thought she was puzzling him. Then she shrugged. ‘Makes you look like less of an arsehole.’
She went inside, the rickety screen door slamming shut behind her.
* * *
After a quick shower, change of clothes into something he hadn’t worn for three days in a row, and a breakfast consisting of a cup of coffee and a slice of bread with lingonberry jam, Kjeld took Esme out to the barn so she could see the scene for herself.
Esme walked around the inside of the barn, careful not to disturb too much more than had already been disturbed by Kjeld and his father continually going out to feed the ravens. She crouched down beside the empty grave. The birds watched her with wary eyes, shining in the shadows of the rookery.
‘It’s not very deep,’ she said.
‘I think the assumption is that the killer didn’t have time to dig a deeper hole.’
‘Or didn’t have the energy.’
She stood up and scanned the barn.
Kjeld assumed she was looking for anything out of the ordinary, but to a city girl from the southern tip of the country just about everything in that barn was probably out of the ordinary.