Buried Angels

‘Take it easy, there’s plenty of room for both of you.’ Anna lifted the boys up and then looked at Erica. ‘That depends on what you’ve got.’ She craned her neck to see what Erica had to offer.

‘How about Grandma’s rhubarb cake with marzipan?’ Erica held out a cake covered with cling wrap.

‘Are you kidding? Who could say no to that?’

Erica cut two big slices of cake and put them on a platter that she set on the table. Noel immediately launched himself towards the platter, but Anna managed to pull him back just in time. She broke off a little chunk of cake for each of the twins. Noel happily stuffed the whole piece in his mouth while Anton carefully nibbled at one corner as he gave her a big smile.

‘They’re so different,’ said Anna, ruffling the hair of the two towheaded boys.

‘You reckon?’ said Erica sarcastically, shaking her head.

She poured the coffee and set Anna’s cup down, making sure, as usual, that it was out of the twins’ reach.

‘Are you doing okay, or should I take one of them?’ she asked, noticing that Anna was trying to juggle the children, the coffee cup and the cake all at once.

‘No, I’m fine. It’s lovely to hold them close.’ Anna nuzzled the top of Noel’s head. ‘So where’s Maja?’

‘She’s glued to the TV. Her new great love in life is Mojje. At the moment she’s watching “Mimmi and Mojje in the Caribbean”. I think I’m going to puke if I have to listen to “On a Lovely Caribbean Beach” one more time.’

‘Adrian is obsessed with Pokemon right now, and it’s driving me crazy too.’ Anna cautiously sipped her coffee, afraid of spilling it on the squirming eighteen-month-old toddlers sitting on her lap. ‘What about Patrik?’

‘He’s at work. Suspected arson out on Valö.’

‘Valö? Whose house?’

Erica hesitated before answering. ‘The summer camp,’ she said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.

‘Oh, how awful. It always gives me the creeps when I think about that place and the way they disappeared into thin air.’

‘I know. I’ve tried to do a little research about it, off and on. I thought I could turn the story into a book if I found out anything. But there’s been nothing much to go on. Until now.’

‘What do you mean?’ Anna took a big bite of rhubarb cake. She’d also been given her grandmother’s recipe, but she rarely baked. Practically never, in fact.

‘She’s back.’

‘Who?’

‘Ebba Elvander. Although her last name is Stark now.’

‘You mean that little girl?’ Anna stared at Erica.

‘Exactly. She and her husband have moved to Valö, and apparently they’ve started renovating the place. And last night somebody tried to burn it down. That makes me wonder.’ Erica had given up trying to hide her enthusiasm.

‘Couldn’t it be a coincidence?’

‘Of course it could. But I still think it’s odd. The fact that Ebba comes back and suddenly things start to happen.’

‘Only one thing has happened,’ Anna pointed out. She knew how quickly Erica’s imagination could jump to conclusions. How her sister had ever managed to write a series of carefully researched and substantiated books seemed both a miracle and a mystery to Anna.

‘Okay, okay. One thing,’ said Erica, waving her hand dismissively. ‘I can hardly wait until Patrik comes home. Actually, I wanted to go with him, but I didn’t have anyone to take care of the children.’

‘Don’t you think it would have seemed a bit strange for you to show up with Patrik?’

By now Anton and Noel had grown tired of sitting on Anna’s lap. They climbed down on to the floor and dashed off to the living room.

‘Well, I was thinking of going out there to talk to Ebba one of these days,’ said Erica, refilling their coffee cups.

‘I can’t help wondering what happened to that family,’ said Anna pensively.

‘Mammmmaaaaa! Get them out of here!’ Maja cried shrilly from the living room. Erica got up with a sigh.

‘I knew it was too good to be true. This is what happens all day long. Maja is forever getting cross with her brothers. You have no idea how many times I have to intervene each day.’

‘Hmm …’ said Anna, watching Erica as she hurried out of the room. She felt a pang in her heart. Personally she could have done with a little less peace and quiet.

Fjällbacka had never looked better. From the dock outside the boathouse where he sat with his wife and in-laws, John had a view of the entire harbour entrance. The glorious weather had enticed more sailing enthusiasts and tourists than usual, and scores of boats were moored close together along the pontoon dock. He could hear music and laughter coming from inside the vessels, and he was surveying the lively scene as he squinted into the sunlight.

‘It’s too bad that debate is at such a low level in Sweden today.’ John raised his wine glass and took a sip of the nicely chilled rosé. ‘People pay lip service to democracy and say that everyone has the right to be heard, but we’re not allowed to express our views. It’s as if we don’t exist. What everybody forgets is that we were elected by the people. A sufficient number of Swedes showed that they harbour a deep mistrust of the way things are being handled. They want change, and we’ve promised them that change.’

He set his glass down and went back to peeling shrimp. A big plate of unpeeled shrimp was still awaiting his attention.

‘I know. It’s terrible,’ said his father-in-law, reaching for the bowl of shrimp and grabbing a handful. ‘If this is truly a democracy, we need to listen to the people.’

‘And everybody knows that lots of immigrants come here purely to take advantage of the social benefits,’ interjected his mother-in-law. ‘It would be fine if all these foreigners were prepared to work and contribute to society. But I have no desire to see my tax money used to support those parasites.’ She had already begun to slur her words.

John sighed. What idiots. They had no idea what they were talking about. It was the same with most voters: they were nothing but sheep, oversimplifying the problem, unable to see the big picture. His in-laws personified the ignorance that he loathed, and here he sat, stuck with them for a whole week.

Liv stroked his thigh in an attempt to calm him. She knew what he thought about them, and she mostly agreed. But Barbro and Kent were still her parents, and there wasn’t much she could do about that.

‘The worst part is the way they’re moving into all areas these days,’ said Barbro. ‘A family just moved into our neighbourhood, and the mother is Swedish, but the father is an Arab. I can’t begin to imagine how awful it must be for that poor woman, the way Arabs treat their wives. And I’m sure the children will be bullied in school. Then they’ll get in trouble with the police, and she’ll end up regretting that she didn’t marry a Swedish boy instead.’

‘You can say that again,’ said Kent, attempting to take a bite of a huge shrimp sandwich.

‘Can’t you let John have a rest from politics for a while?’ said Liv, her tone mildly reproachful. ‘He spends enough time discussing the immigrant issue in Stockholm, day in and day out. He deserves a break when he’s over here.’

John gave her a grateful look as he paused to admire his wife. She was perfect. Silky blonde hair swept back from her face. Classic features and clear blue eyes.

‘Sorry, sweetheart. We weren’t thinking. We’re just so proud of what John is doing, and the position that he has achieved. All right, let’s talk about something else. How’s it going with your little business, by the way?’

Liv eagerly began recounting all the difficulties she’d been having with the customs department, which seemed determined to complicate her business affairs. She was constantly dealing with setbacks to deliveries of the home furnishings that she imported from France and then sold through her online shop. But John knew that her interest in the shop had been dwindling. She was devoting more and more time to party politics. Everything else seemed unimportant in comparison.

The seagulls were hovering lower over the dock, and he stood up.

‘I suggest we clear things away. Those birds are getting a little too close for comfort.’ He picked up his plate, walked out to the end of the dock, and tossed the shrimp peelings into the sea. The gulls swooped down to catch as many as possible. The crabs would take care of the rest.

He stood there for a moment and took a deep breath as he stared at the horizon. As usual, his gaze settled on Valö, and as usual the anger began smouldering inside him. Fortunately his thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing sound in his trouser pocket. He swiftly took out his mobile, casting a glance at the display before answering. The call was from the prime minister.

‘Tell me, what do you think about those cards?’ asked Patrik as he held the door open for Martin. It was so heavy that he had to give it a shove with his shoulder. Tanum police station was built in the 1960s, and the first time that Patrik set foot in the bunker-like building, he’d been overwhelmed by the dreary appearance. He’d since become so accustomed to the dirty yellow and beige of the furnishings that he’d ceased to notice the complete lack of comfort or appeal.

‘It all sounds very odd. Who would go on sending anonymous birthday cards every year?’

‘Not totally anonymous. They were signed “G”.’

‘Well, that makes it even more peculiar,’ replied Martin, and Patrik laughed.

‘What’s so funny?’ asked Annika, peering at them through the glass panes of the reception area.

‘Nothing in particular,’ said Martin.

Annika swivelled about in her desk chair and scooted over to the doorway of her small office. ‘How’d it go out there?’

‘We need to wait and see what Torbjörn can find out, but it does appear that someone was trying to burn down the house.’

‘I’ll make some coffee and we can talk.’ Annika headed down the hall, shooing Patrik and Martin ahead of her.

‘Have you told Mellberg?’ Martin asked as they went into the kitchen.

‘No, I didn’t think it necessary to say anything to Bertil. He’s got the weekend off, after all. No point bothering the boss yet awhile.’

‘You have a point,’ said Patrik, sitting down on a chair next to the window.

‘So here you all are, having a nice chat over coffee, and you didn’t think to invite me.’ Gösta was standing in the doorway, looking sullen.

‘You’re here? But it’s your day off. Why aren’t you out on the golf course?’ Patrik pulled out the chair next to him so Gösta could sit down.

‘Too hot. Thought I might as well come in and write up a few reports, then I can spend a couple of hours out on the course another day when it’s not so hot that you could fry an egg on the pavement. Where have you guys been? Annika mentioned something about arson.’

‘That’s right. It seems somebody poured petrol or some other accelerant under the front door and then ignited it.’

‘Good Lord!’ Gösta took a Ballerina biscuit and carefully separated the two halves. ‘Where did this happen?’

‘On Valö. The old summer camp,’ said Martin.

Gösta gave a start. ‘The summer camp?’

‘Yes. It’s a bit odd. I don’t know whether you heard, but the youngest daughter – the one who was left behind when the whole family disappeared – has come back and taken over the place.’

‘Right. There have been a lot of rumours about that,’ said Gösta without lifting his gaze from the table.

Patrik gave him a puzzled look. ‘You were here then, you must have worked on the case, right?’

‘Yes, I did. That’s how old I am,’ Gösta told him. ‘I wonder why she’d want to move back there.’

‘She mentioned something about losing a son,’ said Martin.

‘Ebba lost a child? When? What happened?’

‘They didn’t say anything else about it.’ Martin got up to fetch some milk from the refrigerator.

Patrik frowned; it wasn’t like Gösta to show concern. But he’d seen this happen before. Every veteran police officer had an unsolved case that he couldn’t get out of his mind. An old investigation that he kept brooding over, constantly mulling it over, trying to solve the mystery before it was too late.

‘So that case stood out for you?’

‘Too right. I’d give anything to know what happened on that night before Easter.’

‘I’m sure you’re not alone in that,’ interjected Annika.

‘And now Ebba is back.’ Gösta rubbed his chin. ‘And somebody tried to burn the place down.’

‘Not just the house,’ said Patrik. ‘Whoever lit that fire must have known, maybe even counted on the fact, Ebba and her husband were asleep inside. It was sheer luck that Tobias woke up and was able to put out the fire.’

‘A bizarre coincidence, no doubt about it,’ said Martin.

He jumped when Gösta slammed his fist on the table.

‘It’s no coincidence!’

His colleagues stared at him in surprise, and a stunned silence descended over the kitchen.

‘Maybe we ought to take a look at the old case,’ Patrik said at last. ‘Just to be sure.’

‘I can show you what we have,’ said Gösta. His gaunt, greyhound-like face had regained its eager expression. ‘Every so often I take out the files and go through them again, so I can easily dig them out.’

‘Okay, do that. Then we’ll help you review the evidence. Maybe we’ll come up with something new if we approach the case with fresh eyes. Annika, could you get out everything you can find in the files about Ebba?’

‘Leave it to me,’ she said as she began clearing the table.

‘We should probably also check out the finances of Mr and Mrs Stark. And see whether the house on Valö is insured,’ said Martin, casting a cautious glance at Gösta.

‘Are you saying they did it themselves? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. They were inside when the house started to burn, and it was Ebba’s husband who put out the fire.’

‘It’s still worth investigating. Who knows, maybe he set the fire but then had regrets. I’ll make a few enquiries.’

Gösta opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind and stomped out of the kitchen.

Patrik stood up. ‘I think Erica has quite a bit of information too.’

‘Erica? Why’s that?’ Martin stopped mid-stride.

‘She’s been interested in the case for a long time. It’s a story that everybody in Fjällbacka knows, and considering what Erica writes about, it’s understandable that she would take a keen interest.’

‘So find out what she knows. The more information, the better.’

Patrik nodded, although he was feeling a bit hesitant. He knew what would happen if he allowed Erica to get involved in the investigation.

‘Sure, I’ll have a talk with her,’ he said, hoping that this wouldn’t be a decision he’d come to regret.

Percy’s hand trembled slightly as he poured two glasses of his best cognac. He handed one of them to his wife.

‘I simply don’t understand what they’re thinking.’ Pyttan downed her drink in several swift gulps.

‘Grandfather would be turning over in his grave if he knew about this.’

‘You’ve got to solve this somehow, Percy.’ She held out her glass, and he didn’t hesitate to refill it. It was still only early afternoon, but somewhere in the world it was past five o’clock. And if ever there was a day that called for strong drinks, this was it.

‘Me? What am I supposed to do?’ His voice rose to a falsetto, and he was shaking so badly that half the cognac splashed over the rim of Pyttan’s glass.

She pulled her hand away. ‘Watch what you’re doing, you idiot!’

‘Sorry. I’m sorry.’ Percy sank down on to one of the big, worn armchairs in the library. They heard a ripping sound, and he realized that the upholstery had split. ‘Bloody hell!’

He jumped up and began kicking the chair in rage. All around him everything was falling apart. The whole manor was on the verge of collapse, his inheritance had been used up long ago, and now these revenue agency bastards were claiming he had to fork over a large sum of money that he didn’t have.

‘Calm down.’ Pyttan wiped her hands on a napkin. ‘There must be some way to work this out. But I don’t understand how all the money can be gone.’

Percy turned to stare at her. He knew how frightening that thought was, but he felt nothing but scorn for her.

‘How all the money can be gone?’ he shouted. ‘Do you have any idea how much you spend each month? Have you no clue how much everything costs? All the travelling, the dinners, the clothes, handbags, shoes, jewellery, and God knows what else you buy?’

It wasn’t like Percy to shout in this way, and Pyttan shrank from him in alarm. Then she sat studying him for a while, and he knew her well enough to surmise that she was weighing her options: deciding whether to fight back or try to soothe him. When her expression abruptly softened, he knew that she’d decided on the latter.

‘Darling, let’s not start quarrelling about something as trivial as money.’ She straightened his tie and then tucked in his shirt, which had been pulled up out of his trousers. ‘All right. Now you look like my elegant lord of the manor again.’

She pressed close, and he felt himself starting to relent. She was wearing the Gucci dress today and, as usual, he was finding it hard to resist her.

‘Here’s what we’re going to do. You phone the accountant and go through the books again. Things can’t be that bad. I’m sure you’ll find it reassuring to discuss the situation with him.’

‘I need to talk to Sebastian,’ murmured Percy.

‘Sebastian?’ said Pyttan, wincing as if she’d swallowed something foul. She glanced up at Percy. ‘You know that I don’t like you spending time with that man. Because then I have to entertain his insipid wife. Those two simply have no class. I don’t care how much money he has, he’s an utter boor. I’ve heard rumours that the fraud authorities have been keeping an eye on him for a while. They’ve yet to come up with any proof, but it’s only a matter of time. We shouldn’t have anything to do with him.’

‘His money is as good as anyone else’s,’ said Percy.

He knew what the accountant was going to say. There was no money left. It was all gone, and in order to get himself out of this bind and to save Fygelsta, he needed capital. Sebastian was his only hope.

They had been taken to the hospital in Uddevalla, but everything seemed fine: there was no sign of residual smoke in their lungs. Now that the first shock had subsided, Ebba felt as though she’d awakened from a strange dream.

Finding herself squinting in the dim light as she sat at her desk, she turned on the lamp. Now that it was summer, dusk crept in slowly, and she invariably sat straining her eyes for a while before realizing that she needed more light.

The angel she was working on was proving intractable, and she struggled to attach the loop. Tobias couldn’t understand why she made the jewellery by hand instead of having it manufactured in Thailand or China, especially now that a lot of orders were coming in via the web shop. But then the work wouldn’t seem as meaningful to her. She wanted to make each piece of jewellery by hand, put an equal amount of love into every necklace that she sent off. Weave into the angels her own sorrow and her own memories. Besides, she found it soothing to do this sort of work in the evenings, after spending a whole day painting and hammering and sawing. When she got up in the morning, every muscle ached, but while she worked on her jewellery, her body would relax.

‘I’ve locked up the house from top to bottom,’ said Tobias.

Ebba gave a start. She hadn’t heard him come in.

‘Damn it,’ she swore as the loop fell off, just as she had almost put it in place.

‘Don’t you think you should take a break from all that tonight?’ said Tobias cautiously, coming to stand behind her.

She could feel him hesitating about whether to put his hands on her shoulders or not. In the past, before what happened to Vincent, he would often massage her back, and she had loved his firm yet gentle touch. Now she could hardly stand to have him touch her, and there was a risk that she would instinctively shake off his hands and hurt his feelings, and then the distance between them would grow even greater.

Ebba tried to fasten the loop again, and finally managed it.

‘Does it really matter whether we lock up the house?’ she said without turning around. ‘Locked doors didn’t seem to stop whoever it was trying to burn the place down last night.’

‘What else can we do?’ said Tobias. ‘And you could at least look at me when we’re talking. This is important. Somebody tried to burn the bloody house down, and we have no idea who it was or why. Doesn’t that scare you?’

Slowly Ebba turned to face him.

‘What should I be scared about? The worst has already happened. Locked or unlocked doors, it doesn’t matter to me.’

‘We can’t go on like this.’

‘Why not? I did what you wanted. I’ve moved back here, agreed to your grand plans to renovate this dilapidated old mansion and then live happily ever after in our island paradise while the guests come and go. I’ve agreed to everything. What more do you want?’ She could hear how cold and unrelenting she sounded.

‘Nothing, Ebba. There’s nothing I want.’ Tobias’s voice was every bit as cold as hers. He turned on his heel and left the room.

FJÄLLBACKA 1915

Finally she was free. She’d found a situation as a maid on a farm in Hamburgsund, and now she’d be able to get away from her foster mother and those odious children of hers. Not to mention her foster father. His nightly visits had become more frequent the older she got and the more her body developed. After she had her first monthly period, she’d lived in constant terror that a baby would start to grow inside of her. A child was the last thing she wanted. She had no intention of being one of those frightened girls, their faces swollen from crying, who came and knocked on her mother’s door, holding a screaming bundle in their arms. Even as a young girl she had despised them, their weakness and their air of resignation.

Dagmar packed up her few possessions. She had nothing left from the home of her real parents, and here she’d acquired nothing of any value to take with her. But she was not about to leave empty-handed. She slipped into her foster parents’ bedroom. In a box under the bed, way back against the wall, was the jewellery that her foster mother had inherited. Dagmar lay down on the floor and pulled out the box. Her foster mother was in Fjällbacka, and the children were playing in the yard, so no one was around to disturb her.

She opened the lid and smiled with satisfaction. There were enough valuables here to give her some semblance of security for a while, and she was glad that it would pain the witch to lose these inherited jewels.

‘What are you doing?’ demanded her foster father from the doorway, making her flinch.

Dagmar had thought he was out in the barn. Her heart pounded wildly for a moment, but then she felt a great calm come over her. Nothing was going to ruin her plans.

‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ she said, taking all of the jewellery out of the box and stuffing the pieces in her skirt pocket.

‘Are you out of your mind, girl? Are you stealing the jewellery?’ He came a step closer, but she held up her hand.

‘That’s right. And I’d advise you not to try and stop me. Because if you do, I’ll go straight to the county sheriff and tell him what you’ve been doing to me.’

‘You wouldn’t dare!’ He clenched his fists, but then the frown on his face relaxed. ‘Besides, who would ever believe the Angelmaker’s daughter?’

‘I can be very convincing. And rumours will start to spread faster than you can imagine.’

His face clouded over again, and he seemed to hesitate, but she decided to help him out.