The Forest Lake Mystery

by The Forest Lake Mystery (retail) (epub)

  Holst bent forward and looked in the direction in which she was pointing. In the middle of the street were three gentlemen in conversation. A slight shudder went through him and he stepped back instinctively. The three gentlemen were Captain Ankerkrone, Kurk and young Lieutenant Claes Ankerkrone. A few steps behind them walked the Danish district magistrate and by his side was Ulla, accompanied by a small lady with a slightly twisted back – Claes’s wife, Holst guessed, for he hadn’t seen her before. Blood rushed to Holst’s head. So they were all in Venice. He clenched his teeth. Now he had to keep on his toes.

  Jeannette noticed his step back.

  “Do you know them?” she asked.

  Holst nodded.

  “Yes, I know them.”

  Jeannette looked sharply at him.

  “Who?”

  “All of them,” said Holst, “but I’ll tell you more about this later. I have to go now. And you, Jeannette, must go home to where you live. I’m going to visit Sjöström today, but you mustn’t tell him I’m coming.”

  Jeannette went silent – doubt was eroding her trust of Holst; his manner had changed so much.

  “Tell me where you live.”

  Holst named his hotel.

  “Alone?” Jeannette asked.

  “I’m staying there with a young German called Dr Braun, a very nice young man I met on the trip down.”

  Jeannette went crimson. Holst pretended as if nothing had happened but watched her intently. Jeannette was silent. They agreed to meet in her home that same afternoon and she left the hotel first. She was a little nervous, but Holst promised to keep his word and she said a very warm goodbye to him.

  Holst smiled when the waiter presented him with the bill with many bows to ‘His Excellency’. They were undoubtedly two of the most unusual bills he had ever put on his expenses during his activities as a policeman, but it was also probably the most remarkable experience he had ever had.

  It was completely certain that if he had withdrawn discreetly that evening, his new friend would have been in her complete, unassailable right if she doubted his love. He knew who she was, a young girl who could count her lovers in the dozens; his power over her existed only in the love he had feigned for her at their meeting and later, when he had learnt her fate. If he stepped back now, she would instantly see through him, her wounded vanity would be woken, she would become his enemy, and the quarry he was pursuing would slip through his fingers.

  He hadn’t told her anything about Annie, but her name had been mentioned between them. Jeannette – she persisted in calling herself Jeannette, although she had been baptised Johanna – would hurry to her lover and warn him of the danger. One word from her about Annie would be enough. Holst still had no idea where Sjöström was to be found.

  He had to admit to himself that what he had done was the only right thing – from a tactical standpoint.

  But if he should be ashamed of himself or not – well, that was another matter. He had to honestly admit that he felt no shame – just a certain nervousness, although he fully realised that, in relation to such an experienced woman as Jeannette, his role wouldn’t be as difficult as if he had been facing a more untainted woman.

  He hurried back to the Hotel Bauer-Grünewald and met Dr Braun, who was very much in suspense about the outcome of the expedition.

  Holst shrugged.

  “Failed,” he said, “the donna didn’t turn up and I spent the evening with some countrymen I met yesterday in the Accademia.”

  Braun was sceptical – but Holst gave him no further answer; he was too busy. It was necessary to make the necessary arrangements with regard to Sjöström.

  V

  Holst was happy to visit the Accademia; he was extremely interested in painting and was delighted with the rare collection of North Italian masterpieces, Titian, Paolo Veronese, Tintoretto etc., in connection with a large collection of genuine old pieces by Dutch painters who had come to study Italy’s masters but left a series of motifs from their homeland. It was doubtful whether the future would give him an opportunity to see such things again, so he made good use of his time. When he had approached the central police station, the most senior officer was not in his office. He therefore decided to spend the waiting time on a visit to the Accademia. He might also have had an ulterior motive.

  Unstoppable, like a surging current, the faces of strangers glided past him, faces he had seen at the hotel, in the square, on the Riva and on the excursions to the Lido, but constantly changing; there was only one of his countrymen, whom he knew from Copenhagen but whom he wasn’t anxious to bump into – that was how comfortable he was here, far from everything familiar and customary. As he stood in front of Titian’s famous Presentation of Maria at the Temple and was delighting in the glorious detail at the foot of the staircase, he suddenly heard a strong voice in broad Danish.

  “My goodness, here we have the famous Maria of Titian – so that’s how she looks.”

  Holst turned quickly and stood face to face with the district magistrate from North Zealand. There was no one else in the gallery other than the two of them and a young lady who had just turned her back and was looking at a small painting hanging on the opposite wall.

  The magistrate cast a quick glance at Holst, and then continued in his usual tone without transition.

  “…and also, my goodness, here is Lieutenant Holst of the capital’s night-watchmen – so that’s how he looks when abroad.”

  The young lady turned quickly – it was Ulla Ankerkrone.

  She blushed, and not at all just slightly, and Holst felt the blood shooting up to his cheeks too without him being able to stop it. It only lasted a few seconds. The young people exchanged friendly greetings and the conversation continued in a most conventional manner. The magistrate was an excellent travelling companion who had stripped away all of his rather odd bachelor manner. He told Holst about the sudden decision to travel and about the stay in the Tyrol and the pleasure he was finding in the journey and the excellent company.

  He was particularly fond of Miss Ulla, who paid him such a wealth of attention in small ways, the sort that an old bachelor receives with a smile and gentle mockery, but not without great inner delight when it comes from a beautiful, young girl. Ulla had set herself to show the ‘district chieftain’ the world at its most beautiful and the district chieftain looked at the world and at Ulla and found them both beautiful.

  His joy at bumping into Holst was sincere. Ulla’s joy was less sincere, inasmuch as she sometimes tried to hide it without really succeeding. On the other hand, she was enormously pleased on her ‘Pappa’s’ behalf, and she expressed this joy just as strongly as she felt obliged to withhold her own.

  She was a lovely girl, Holst thought, and she had become even more beautiful since he last saw her. He felt something like a stab in the heart at the thought of yesterday’s adventure – it preyed on his mind.

  Captain Ankerkrone was staying at the Hotel Victoria on the Riva. He hadn’t come out as he was not very well and an old friend of his accompanying him on the journey was keeping him company. They had all just arrived.

  “Now the young lady is walking around with a poor old man like me, on steamers and gondolas, like a piece of luggage,” as the magistrate put it with a smile.

  They didn’t discuss the important business at all. The district magistrate was on leave and he was just as conscientious about his leave as about his duties.

  Holst joined up with the magistrate and Ulla and they gave the Accademia a thorough viewing. Holst of course knew his way around and the young lady’s eyes rested on him in wonder when he gave his account of the various artists and works of art. The magistrate invited him to dinner, but Holst had to apologise for not being able to accept the invitation. At the thought of the meeting he had agreed with Jeannette, he blushed slightly; it made it really difficult for him to proceed with his project now that he knew that a certain young lady whom he greatly appreciated was in the city and he could have spent th
e day in her company.

  They walked together to the Riva. Holst took his leave of Ulla at the hotel, promising to visit the Ankerkrones; however, he asked the magistrate to grant him a brief conversation about important matters. The magistrate did so – but unwillingly.

  Ulla was happy at meeting Holst; she spent more time thinking about him than she let on, and she felt quite bored in the company of the older men. The magistrate was a charming enough man and Captain Kurk – Uncle Holger – was an excellent uncle, but… In short, it was extremely pleasant that Holst was in Venice. She had no idea what he was doing there, but then she didn’t think about it either.

  The magistrate and Holst went into the hotel’s reading room. Holst decided to tell the magistrate as much as he considered right and proper. He held back a lot about his venture, but disclosed that in the next few hours he would stand face to face with the murderer, and that the case would take a new direction that might necessitate the magistrate’s return home. The magistrate could hardly believe his ears; he leapt to his feet and put his hands on Holst’s shoulders.

  “Is that true, my boy? It’s like an adventure story.”

  Holst bowed his head.

  “Yes, it is an adventure and yet a quite natural one. The fellow is a scoundrel of the highest order – a gambler and waster who makes a living here in the vilest way. The money that his crime has brought him has been gambled away; he owns nothing any more, but he is probably a desperate type, so I won’t be at peace until I’ve arrested him.”

  “Have you secured the assistance of the local police?” asked the magistrate.

  “No, not yet,” said Holst. “As you are aware, I have relied entirely on my own resources in this case.”

  “Yes, but now you’re close to your goal. You really must be careful. It’s important to take action – after all, we have the arrest warrant. If I was in your place, I would take the man into custody as soon as possible. Yes, I know – I’m just an old man on holiday. But that’s my advice. Get the man locked up first – we can discuss the rest later.”

  Holst was silent for a couple of seconds. He wasn’t quite sure whether he should tell the magistrate about the connection between the murdered woman and the Ankerkrone family. Perhaps it would be the right thing to do, but on the other hand he was unwilling to alert the old magistrate to the details of the case before it was absolutely necessary. He decided to hold his tongue.

  “Sir, I think it will be best to tread very carefully,” he replied in a lighter tone. “We’re dealing here with an adventurer who can easily cause us a lot of bother and I think the safest step would be to arrest him for falsification and let the murder case wait. I’m afraid that if we play our trump cards right away, it will be harder to get a conviction and the attendant circumstances are still not at all clear. It may even turn out that he isn’t the murderer.”

  “Who should it then be?” asked the magistrate, a little puzzled.

  “I think it’s him, of course, but the falsification charge is obvious. It can hardly be denied, and if you have no objections, I would like to completely ignore the murder at this stage, also because of the newspapers. I’ve got this all arranged with the authorities back home, but I won’t, of course, take any action without your approval. It shall be you who leads the investigation.”

  “You’re a kind young man, Holst, and I’ll never forget you for this. I never expected that I would be managing my post in an important case – in a murder case, even – on the Riva degli Schiavoni in Venice. But no matter – do as you think best, but be careful and don’t let yourself be outfoxed. Will you join us for lunch?”

  Holst apologised and shortly afterwards took his leave, after changing his mind and promising to come to dinner at six o’clock in the hotel. He took care of the necessary matters in the Municipality and was given a couple of detectives for assistance that would be at the specified place at the agreed time. The arrest warrant was for falsification and fraud – he hadn’t mentioned the murder.

  VI

  At three o’clock on the dot, a gondola delivered Holst to the house where Sjöström lived. He was perfectly calm, though he had deemed it necessary to arm himself with a light pocket revolver, which he had never used before on duty, but which he knew how to use with great certainty, excellent shot that he was. He sent the gondolier away and went quickly up the stairs to the first floor where Jeannette had told him that the apartment was located. On the door was a nameplate: Montuori, Agenzia. He rang the bell and a wrinkled old woman appeared. She opened cautiously and asked for his name and business. Holst spoke poor Italian, but he could make himself understood and asked if he might speak with the Swedish gentleman. The old woman pretended not to understand, so he handed her the card on which the equerry had written a greeting. She closed the door and went away.

  While Holst was waiting, he heard steps on the stairs followed by a faint whistle, the signal that his Italian colleagues were in position. The agreement was that Holst should fire a shot at a window in the apartment if there was any need for help, but he wanted the whole operation to be peaceful so that as little attention as possible would be aroused. The old woman returned and invited him in. He followed her briskly through a narrow, dark entrance to a room facing the canal.

  It was shoddily furnished, more like a kind of office; there were a couple of desks that gave the impression of a legal office or the like.

  The room was quite bright and spacious. Holst heard voices in the neighbouring room. They were speaking Swedish; two male voices, one strong and rough, the other lighter. A lady’s voice sounded like Jeannette’s. So Sjöström wasn’t alone.

  The door opened and Sjöström entered.

  Holst bowed and cast a quick glance at his opponent. Sjöström was about six foot tall and very strongly built. His face was reddish, his beard strong and blond; he looked like a soldier, except for his eyes being puffy and red, his hair thin at the temples and his face furrowed with many wrinkles. He had been a magnificent soldier, that was obvious, but there was an uneasiness in his eyes and a pervasive nervousness about his bearing that marked him out as an adventurer, an insecure man.

  He bowed a little stiffly to Holst and asked him to sit down.

  Holst took a chair and made himself comfortable as he put his hat on a table.

  “To what do I owe the honour of your visit, Lieutenant?” asked Sjöström with a slight bow.

  “Your brother, the equerry Bror Sjöström, as you will see from the card I gave your servant, has asked me to visit you to bring you his regards,” Holst said in a friendly tone. “I have the honour of knowing your brother rather well and I couldn’t neglect the fulfilment of his wish.”

  “Oh, really…” replied Sjöström.

  Holst shuffled comfortably in his chair, like someone who had plenty of time.

  “Your brother was very concerned because he hadn’t heard anything from you, apart from occasional messages from countrymen who had met you in Nice. He was frankly afraid that something unpleasant may have happened to you. As you know, rumours spread very fast. So I promised to look you up and find out at first hand.”

  “Oh, really…”

  Sjöström didn’t seem very communicative. It was apparent that his thoughts were in the other room, where the conversation appeared to have stopped. Holst didn’t get put off by Sjöström’s attitude, but continued in the same friendly tone.

  “In particular, it caused your brother some concern that you didn’t visit him in March this year when you were in Helsingborg.”

  “How do you know I was in Helsingborg?” Sjöström blurted out.

  “Oh, Sweden isn’t that big a place – Scania, I mean. Then there is a certain Mr Karlkvist from Kristianstad, who, to put it bluntly, has been bothering your brother a great deal.”

  “Karlkvist…”

  Sjöström’s eyes blinked then he directed them sharply at Holst.

  “I beg you to speak more clearly, Lieutenant. What do you want of me?�
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  “But I have told you my errand,” said Holst in the same mild tone. “Your brother has instructed me to seek you out. He imagined you were in some difficulty and that you might be in need of some money – yes, I’m sorry to speak so indiscreetly, but your brother is my friend. So to put it plainly: if you would be so kind as to come with me to the Austrian Bank, I will be able to pay you an amount according to your brother’s wishes.”

  “I don’t need any money,” said Sjöström curtly, before seeming to think better of it. “Besides, I don’t need to come with you. A cheque would do just as well.”

  Holst smiled amiably.

  “In order to insure himself against all eventualities, your brother wanted the money paid out in my presence.” He looked very sharply at Sjöström. “Because of all eventualities.”

  Sjöström became uneasy. He made his choice and got up quickly.

  “You must excuse me, Lieutenant, but I have guests. I don’t know you but I thank you for the greetings from my brother. I don’t need any money – not at all. Yes, I don’t wish to be rude to a stranger – a friend of my brother, no less – but, as I said, I don’t have a lot of time. Perhaps I could visit you where you’re staying. At present, it’s impossible for me to talk to you any further.”

  Holst remained quietly seated.

  Sjöström stood in front of him, looking at him with suppressed ill-temper. His gaze wandered uneasily and he glanced now and then at the door.

  “Well now, so Mr Sjöström doesn’t need any money,” continued Holst in a slightly teasing tone; he had made his decision when he failed to lure Sjöström out of the house. The friend in there was apparently a golden goose who promised Sjöström some good profits. There was therefore nothing else to do than get on with arresting him. But on the other hand, Holst was reluctant to raise the alarm while a stranger was in the house. He had to take action and make sure everything happened peacefully.