The Stonecutter

The drive to Fjällbacka took place in total silence. Neither of them had anything to say to the other. When they turned up the hill and into the family’s driveway Patrik recognized the pram standing outside. His first thought was: oh shit! But he quickly revised his reaction. It might be good for the family if Erica was there. At least for Charlotte. She was the one he was most worried about; he had no idea how she was going to take the news they were bringing. People responded so differently. He had actually met relatives who thought it was better that their loved one had been murdered than that the death was accidental. It gave them someone to blame, and they were able to centre their grief on something specific.

With Ernst at his heels, Patrik went up to the front door and knocked cautiously. Charlotte’s mother opened it, and he could see that she was upset. Her face was flushed, and her eyes had a glint of steel that made Patrik hope he never had to cross her.

When she recognized Patrik she made a visible effort to control herself and instead put on an inquiring expression.

‘The police?’ she said, stepping aside to let them in.

Patrik was just about to introduce his colleague when Ernst said: ‘We’ve met.’ He nodded to Lilian, who nodded back.

Well, well, Patrik thought. Of course, with the number of police reports flying back and forth between Lilian and the next-door neighbour, most people at the station should have met her by now. But today they were here on a more serious errand than a petty dispute between neighbours.

‘May we come in for a moment?’ Patrik asked. Lilian nodded and led them into the kitchen, where Niclas was sitting at the table. He too had the flush of anger on his cheeks. Patrik looked around for Charlotte and Erica. Niclas noticed and said, ‘Erica is helping Charlotte take a shower.’

‘How is Charlotte doing?’ Patrik asked as Lilian poured coffee for him and Ernst and placed the cups in front of them on the kitchen table.

‘She’s been completely out of it. But it worked wonders for Erica to come over. It’s the first time Charlotte’s been able to get up and take a shower and change her clothes since …’ he hesitated, ‘it happened.’

Patrik was wrestling with himself. Should he speak to Niclas and Lilian in private and ask Erica to break the news to Charlotte, or was she strong enough to join them? He decided on the latter option. If she was on her feet now, and also had the support of the family, then it ought to go all right. And Niclas was a doctor, after all.

‘Why exactly are you here?’ said Niclas in confusion, giving first Ernst and then Patrik a puzzled look.

‘I think we should wait until Charlotte can join us.’

Both Lilian and Niclas seemed content to wait, but they exchanged a hasty, inscrutable glance. Five minutes passed in silence. Small talk would have felt out of place under the circumstances.

Patrik looked around the kitchen. It was pleasant enough, but obviously the domain of a world-class obsessive-compulsive. Everything was sparkling clean and arranged in straight lines. A bit different to his and Erica’s kitchen, he mused, where there was most often total chaos in the sink while the dustbin overflowed with packaging from frozen meals that could be heated in the microwave. Then he heard a door open, and there stood Erica holding Maja asleep in one arm. Beside her stood Charlotte, fresh from the shower. The astonished look on Erica’s face quickly changed to concern, and she slipped her other hand under Charlotte’s elbow to guide her friend to a kitchen chair. Patrik didn’t know how Charlotte had looked before, but now she had a little colour in her face and her eyes were clear and alert.

‘What are you doing here?’ Charlotte asked in a voice that was still hoarse from several days spent alternating between shrieks and silence. She looked at Niclas, who shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he didn’t know either.

‘We wanted to wait for you before we …’ Patrik’s words failed him as he searched for a good way to present what he had to say. Thankfully Ernst kept his mouth shut and let him handle the situation.

‘We’ve received some new information about Sara’s death.’

‘You’ve found out something else about the accident? What is it?’ said Lilian excitedly.

‘It looks as though it wasn’t an accident.’

‘What do you mean? Why wouldn’t it look like an accident?’ demanded Niclas in obvious frustration.

‘It wasn’t an accident at all. Sara was murdered.’

‘Murdered? What do you mean? She drowned, didn’t she?’ Charlotte looked confused, and Erica grabbed her hand. Maja was still asleep in Erica’s arms, unaware of what was playing out around her.

‘She was drowned, but not in the sea. The medical examiner didn’t find seawater in her lungs as he’d expected. It was fresh water, apparently from a bathtub.’

The silence around the table felt explosive. Patrik looked with concern at Charlotte, and Erica fixed her big eyes on her husband’s face, obviously alarmed.

Patrik understood that the family was in shock, and he began cautiously asking questions to bring them back to reality. Right now he thought that was the best approach. Or at least he hoped it was. In any case, that was his job, and for the sake of both Sara and her family he had to get on with the interview.

‘So now we need to go over in detail the chronology of everything Sara did that morning. Which of you saw her last?’

‘I did,’ said Lilian. ‘I saw her last. Charlotte was lying down in the basement resting, and Niclas had driven off to work, so I was taking care of Sara for a while. Just after nine she said she was going over to Frida’s house. She put on her coat and went out. She waved as she left,’ said Lilian in an empty, mechanical tone of voice.

‘Could you be more precise than just past nine o’clock? Was it twenty after? Five after? How close to nine was it? Every minute will have to be accounted for,’ said Patrik.

Lilian thought it over. ‘I suppose it was about ten after nine. But I can’t say for sure.’

‘Okay, we’ll check and see if any of the neighbours saw anything, so maybe we can get the time corroborated.’ He made a note in his book and went on: ‘And after that no one saw her?’

They shook their heads.

Ernst asked brusquely, ‘So what were the rest of you doing at that time?’

Patrik cringed inside and cursed his colleague’s less than sensitive interviewing technique.

‘What Ernst means is that procedural routine requires us to ask both you and Charlotte the same thing, Niclas. Purely routine, as I said, just to be able to rule you out as suspects as quickly as possible.’

His attempt to dilute the impact of his colleague’s question seemed to work. Both Niclas and Charlotte replied without showing great emotional distress, and they seemed to accept Patrik’s explanation for this uncomfortable question.

‘I was at the clinic,’ said Niclas. ‘I start work at eight.’

‘And you, Charlotte?’ Patrik asked.

‘As Mother said, I was lying down in the basement, resting. I had a migraine,’ she replied in a surprised voice. As if she were shocked that a couple of days earlier she could have viewed that as a big problem in her life.

‘Stig was at home too. He was upstairs resting. He’s been bedridden for a couple of weeks,’ Lilian explained. She seemed annoyed that Patrik and Ernst dared to ask about her family’s activities.

‘Ah yes, Stig, we’ll need to talk to him too eventually, but that can wait a bit,’ said Patrik, who had to admit that he had completely forgotten about Lilian’s husband.

A long silence followed. There was the shriek of a child from another room, and Lilian got up to go and fetch Albin. Like Maja he had slept through all the commotion. He still looked half asleep and wore his usual serious expression as Lilian carried him into the kitchen. She sat down on her chair again and let her grandson play with the gold chain she wore round her neck.

Ernst took a breath and seemed about to ask some more questions, but a warning glance from Patrik made him stop. Patrik continued instead, cautiously. ‘Can you think of anyone at all who you think might have wanted to harm Sara?’

Charlotte gave him an incredulous look and said in her hoarse voice, ‘Who would want to hurt Sara? She was only seven years old.’ Her voice broke, but she was making an obvious effort to control herself.

‘So none of you can think of any motive? Nobody who wanted to hurt you, nothing like that?’

That last question prompted Lilian to speak. The red patches of anger she’d had on her face when they arrived flared up again.

‘Somebody who wanted to hurt us? I should say so. There’s only one person who fits that description, and that’s our neighbour Kaj. He hates our family and has done everything to make our life a living hell for years!’

‘Don’t be stupid, Mamma,’ said Charlotte. ‘You and Kaj have been fighting with each other for years, and why would he want to hurt Sara?’

‘That man is capable of anything. He’s a psychopath, I have to tell you. And take a closer look at his son Morgan. He’s not right in the head, and people like that are capable of anything. Just look at all those psychos that have been let back out on the streets and what they’ve done. He’d be locked up if anyone had any sense!’

Niclas put his hand on her arm to calm her down, but it had no effect. Albin whimpered at the tone of their voices.

‘Kaj hates me, simply because he’s finally met somebody who dares to contradict him. He thinks he’s a big shot just because he was the manager of a company and has plenty of money. That’s why he and his wife can move here and everyone in town treats them like some sort of royalty. He’s totally inconsiderate, so I wouldn’t put anything past him.’

‘Stop it, Mamma!’ Charlotte’s voice now had a new sharpness to it, and she glared at her mother. ‘Don’t go making a scene.’

Her daughter’s outburst made Lilian stop talking. She clenched her jaws hard with anger, but she didn’t dare contradict her daughter.

‘So,’ Patrik hesitated, a bit shocked by Lilian’s vehement remarks, ‘besides your neighbour you can’t think of anyone who has anything against your family?’

They all shook their heads. He closed his notebook.

‘Well then, we have no more questions for the time being. Once again, I just want to say that I’m truly sorry for your loss.’

Niclas nodded and got up to show the policemen out. Patrik turned to Erica.

‘Are you staying, or would you like a lift home?’

With her eyes fixed on Charlotte, Erica replied, ‘I’ll be here for a while yet.’

Outside the front door Patrik paused to take a deep breath.

Stig could hear voices rising and falling downstairs. He wondered who had come to visit. As usual nobody bothered to inform him about what was going on. But maybe that was just as well. To be honest he didn’t know whether he could handle all the details about what had happened. In a way it was nicer to lie up here in bed, in his private cocoon, and let his mind process in peace and quiet all the feelings that Sara’s death had provoked. His illness somehow made it strangely easier for him to deal with the grief. The physical pain was always assaulting his consciousness and pushed away some of the emotional torment.

With an effort Stig turned over in bed and stared blankly at the wall. He had loved the girl as if she were his own granddaughter. Naturally he saw that she could be difficult and moody, but never when she came up to see him. It was as if she instinctively sensed the full extent of the illness that was ravaging his body. She showed respect for both him and his illness. She was probably the only one who knew what a bad state he was in. With the others he made every effort not to show how great the pain was. Both his father and grandfather had died a miserable and humiliating death in a crowded hospital room, and that was a fate he intended to do everything to avoid. So to Lilian and Niclas he always managed to call up his last reserves of energy and put on a relatively controlled façade. And the illness seemed to be doing its part to help him stay out of the hospital. At intervals he would get better, perhaps feeling a little weaker and more tired than usual, but fully capable of functioning in everyday circumstances. But he always took sick again and ended up back in bed for a couple of weeks. Niclas had begun to look more and more concerned, but thank goodness Lilian had so far managed to convince him that it was best for Stig to be at home.

She was truly a gift from God. Of course they’d had their clashes during the more than six years they’d been married, and sometimes she could be a very hard woman, but the best and most tender side of her seemed to come out in caring for him. Since he’d taken ill they had lived in an exceedingly symbiotic relationship. She loved taking care of him, and he loved having her do it. Now he had a hard time imagining that they had been so close to going their separate ways. There was nothing so bad that it didn’t bring some good with it, he always told himself. But that was before the worst of all possible evils had befallen them. And he couldn’t find anything good in that.

The girl had understood the state he was in. Her soft hand on his cheek had left a warmth that he could feel even now. She would sit on the edge of his bed and tell him about everything that had happened that day, and he would nod and listen intently. He didn’t treat her like a child, but as an equal. She had appreciated that.

That she was gone was inconceivable.

He closed his eyes and let a strong new wave of pain carry him away.

STRÖMSTAD 1923

It was a strange autumn. Anders had never before felt so exhausted, and yet so full of energy. Agnes seemed to infuse him with new strength, and sometimes he wondered how he’d been able to make his body function before she came into his life.

After that first evening, when she plucked up her courage and came to his window, his whole life had changed. Now-a-days the sun didn’t shine until Agnes arrived, and it went out when they parted. The first month they had approached each other cautiously. She was very shy and quiet, and he was still astonished that she had dared take that first step. It was unlike her to be so forward, and he felt a warmth come over him at the thought that she had made such a departure from her principles for his sake.

He would willingly admit that at first he had hesitated. He had sensed problems on the horizon and could see only how impossible the situation was. Yet the feeling inside him was so strong that he somehow managed to convince himself that everything would work out in the end. And she was brimming with confidence. When she leaned her head on his shoulder and rested her slender hand in his, he felt as though he could move mountains for her.

There weren’t many hours when they could meet. He didn’t get home from the quarry until late in the evening, and then he had to get up early in the morning to go to work again. But she always found a way, and he loved her for it. They took many long walks round the edge of town under cover of darkness, and despite the raw autumn cold they always found some dry spot where they could sit and kiss. By the time their hands began venturing under each other’s clothes it was already far into November, and he knew they had reached a crossroads.

He cautiously brought up the subject of the future. He didn’t want her to get in trouble, he loved her too much for that, but at the same time his body was urging him to choose the path that would lead them to a union. Yet his attempts to talk about his torment were silenced by a kiss from her.

‘Let’s not talk about that,’ she said, kissing him again. ‘Tomorrow, when I come to your place, don’t come outside to me. Instead let me come inside.’

‘But what about the widow —’ he said before she interrupted him again with a kiss.

‘Shh,’ she said. ‘We’ll be as quiet as two mice.’ She caressed his cheek and went on, ‘Two quiet mice who love each other.’

‘But what about —’ he continued, nervous, but at the same time excited.

‘Don’t think so much,’ she said with a smile. ‘Let’s just live in the present. Who knows, tomorrow we could be dead.’

‘Oh no, don’t talk like that,’ he said, pulling her close. She was right. He thought too much.

7

‘It’s probably just as well we get this over with right away.’ Patrik sighed.

‘I don’t see the point,’ Ernst muttered. ‘Lilian and Kaj have been fighting for years, but I have a hard time believing that was reason enough for him to kill the girl.’

Patrik was taken aback. ‘It sounds as if you know them. I got the same impression when Lilian opened the door.’

‘I only know Kaj,’ said Ernst sullenly. ‘Some of us old guys get together to play cards occasionally.’

Patrik frowned. ‘Is that something I need to worry about? To be quite honest, I’m not sure you should even be taking part in the investigation under the circumstances.’

‘Bullshit,’ said Ernst sourly. ‘If we couldn’t work on a case because of some minor objection, we wouldn’t be able to investigate shit. Everybody knows everybody else in this town, you know that as well as I do. And I’m quite capable of keeping my work and my private life separate.’

Patrik wasn’t really satisfied with that answer, but he also knew that Ernst was right to some extent. The town was so small that everyone had some connection to everyone else, so it wouldn’t be possible to use that as an excuse for removing an officer from an investigation. If that did happen, it would be because of a considerably closer relationship. But it was a shame. For a second he had smelled the morning air and seen a chance of getting rid of Lundgren.

Walking side by side they approached the house next door. A curtain fluttered in the window next to the door but fell back into place so fast that they couldn’t see who was standing behind it.

Patrik studied the house, the ‘showplace’, as Lilian had called it. He’d seen it every day as he drove back and forth from his home but had never given it a closer look. He agreed that it wasn’t very attractive. It was a modern design with lots of glass and artificial angles. It seemed that an architect had been given a free hand, and Patrik had to admit that to some extent Lilian had a point. The house was perfect for Beautiful Homes magazine, but it fitted in as poorly with the old neighbourhood as a teenager at a party for pensioners. Whoever said that money and taste went hand in hand? The town architect must have been blind the day he approved that building permit.

Patrik turned to his colleague. ‘What sort of job does Kaj do? Since he’s home on a weekday, I mean? Lilian said something about managing director.’

‘He sold the company and took early retirement,’ said Ernst, whose tone was still grouchy after having his professionalism questioned. ‘But he also coaches the football team. He’s very good at it, actually. He would have turned pro when he was young, but he had some kind of accident that made it impossible. And I say again, this is a waste of time. Kaj Wiberg is one of the really good guys, and anyone who says different is lying. All this is just ridiculous.’

Patrik ignored his comments and kept climbing the front steps.

They rang the doorbell and waited. Soon they heard footsteps and the door was opened by a man Patrik assumed was Kaj. He brightened up when he saw Ernst.

‘Hi, Lundgren, how are things? There’s no card game today, is there?’

His broad smile faded quickly when he saw that neither of them reacted. He rolled his eyes. ‘So what’s the old bitch come up with this time?’ He showed them in to the big, open living room and sat down heavily in an easy chair, motioning them to have a seat on the sofa.

‘Well, not that I don’t feel sorry about what’s happened to them; it’s a real tragedy. But it’s incredible that she has the stomach to keep quarrelling with us even under these circumstances. I think that says a good deal about what sort of person she is.’

Patrik ignored this comment and studied the man before him. He was thin, of average height, with the physique of a greyhound and silver hair cut short. Nevertheless there was actually something quite nondescript about him – he was the sort of man witnesses would never be able to describe if he decided to rob a bank.

‘We’re going round to all the neighbours who might have seen anything. It has nothing to do with your disputes.’ Patrik had already decided, before they came in, not to say anything about Lilian having singled out her neighbour.

‘I see,’ said Kaj in a tone that had a slight hint of disappointment. A clear indication that the feud with his neighbour had become a constant and almost essential element in his life.

‘But why the questions?’ he went on. ‘It’s tragic that the little girl drowned, but there can’t be anything for the police to investigate further. Surely there can’t be much else for you to do,’ he chuckled, but quickly altered his expression when he saw that Patrik did not find the situation the least bit amusing. Then something dawned on him.

‘Am I wrong about that? People are saying that the girl drowned, but you know how people talk. If the police are going around asking questions, that can only mean that it’s a different cause of death. Am I right or not?’ he asked excitedly.

Patrik gave him a look of distaste. What was the matter with people? How could they view the death of a little girl as something exciting? Didn’t people have any common decency any more? He forced himself to maintain a neutral expression when he answered Kaj.

‘Well, that’s partially right. I can’t go into the details, but it turns out that Sara Klinga was murdered, so it’s of the utmost importance that we find out everything she did that day.’

‘Murdered,’ said Kaj. ‘Wow, that’s horrible.’ His expression was sympathetic, but Patrik could sense, rather than see, that the sympathy did not run very deep.

Patrik had to repress a desire to slap Kaj in the face. He found the man’s phoney sympathy disgusting, but he merely said, ‘As I mentioned, I can’t go into the details, but if you saw Sara on Monday morning then it’s important that we find out where and when. As precisely as you can remember.’

Kaj frowned and thought hard. ‘Let me see now, Monday. Yes, I did see her sometime that morning, but I can’t say exactly when. She came out of the house and scampered off. That kid could never walk like regular people, she always bounced up and down like a blasted rubber ball.’

‘Did you see which direction she went?’ said Ernst, speaking for the first time during their visit. Kaj looked at him in amusement; apparently he found it funny to see his card-playing buddy in his professional role.

‘No, I just saw her go down the driveway. She turned and waved at someone before she bounded off, but I didn’t see which way she went.’

‘And you don’t recall what time this was?’ asked Patrik.

‘Not really, but it must have been sometime around nine. I’m sorry I can’t be more exact.’

Patrik hesitated a moment before he continued. ‘I understand that you and Lilian Florin are not on a friendly footing.’

Kaj snorted out loud. ‘No, you could certainly say that. There’s probably nobody who could stay on a “friendly footing” with that hag.’

‘Is there any special reason for this …’ Patrik searched for the right word, ‘antagonism?’

‘Not that there needs to be any special reason to quarrel with Lilian Florin, but I do happen to have a very good excuse. The trouble began as soon as we bought the lot and were about to build a house here. She had objections to the design and did everything she could to try and stop construction. She stirred up a small storm of protest, I must say.’ He chuckled. ‘A storm of protest in Fjällbacka. Can you hear my knees shaking?’ Kaj opened his eyes wide and pretended to look scared, and then burst out laughing. Then he collected himself and went on, ‘Well, we managed, of course, to take the wind out of that little commotion, even though it cost us both time and money. But since then it’s been one thing after another. And I’m sure you know the extremes she’s willing to go to. It’s simply been hell all these years.’ He leaned back and crossed one leg over the other.