Buried Angels

‘I have a suggestion. When my dear foster mother discovers that her jewellery is missing, you’ll do everything you can to calm her down and convince her to forget all about it. If you promise to do that, then I’ll give you a little extra reward before I leave here.’

Dagmar went over to her foster father. Slowly she raised her hand, placed it on his genitals, and began rubbing. The farmer’s eyes soon took on a glazed look, and she knew that she had him in her power.

‘Do we have a deal?’ she said, slowly unbuttoning his trousers.

‘We have a deal,’ he replied, placing his hand on top of her head and pressing it down.

Chapter Four

The diving tower at Badholmen loomed as majestically against the sky as it always had. Erica cast aside the image of a man gently swaying from a rope attached to the tower; the last thing she wanted was to be reminded of that awful event. As if trying its best to distract her from such dark thoughts, the small islet of Badholmen was sparkling like a jewel in the water off Fjällbacka. The youth hostel out there was very popular and often fully booked during the summer, and Erica could understand why. The location and the old-fashioned charm of the building made an irresistible combination. but today she wasn’t really able to enjoy the view.

‘Is everybody here?’ Feeling her stress levels mounting, she looked around her, counting the children.

Three rambunctious figures wearing bright orange life-jackets were capering about on the dock.

‘Patrik! Maybe you could help out a little here,’ she said, catching hold of the big collar on Maja’s life-jacket as her daughter dashed past, running dangerously close to the edge of the pier.

‘Then who did you think is going to start up the motor?’ Patrik threw out his hands, his face flushed.

‘If you get the kids into the boat first, before they fall into the water, then you can start the motor.’

Maja was squirming like a worm to get loose, but Erica had a good grip on the loop of her collar and held on tight. With her free hand she grabbed Noel, who was chasing after Anton on his chubby little legs. Now at least there was only one child running wild.

‘Here, come and get them.’ She hauled the boisterous children towards the wooden snipa boat tied up at the dock. Clearly annoyed, Patrik climbed up on to the deck to grab Maja and Noel. Then Erica spun around and hurried after Anton, who had taken off in the direction of the little stone bridge between Badholmen and the mainland.

‘Anton! Stop!’ she shouted, but he carried on regardless. Despite his best efforts though, Erica caught up with him in the end. Shrieking hysterically, he struggled to break free as she carried him back to the boat.

‘My God, why on earth did I think this would be a good idea?’ she said as she handed the sobbing Anton to Patrik. Perspiration running down her face, she untied the mooring line and jumped into the boat.

‘It’ll be better when we get out on open water.’ Patrik turned the ignition, and for once the motor started up on the first try. He leaned over to untie the aft mooring line as he used his other hand to keep the boat a safe distance from the next vessel at the dock. It was no easy task to make their way out into the harbour. The boats were crowded together, and if they hadn’t had rubber fenders, neither their own boat nor their neighbours’ would have been able to avoid damage.

‘I’m sorry about snapping at you,’ said Erica as she sat down after getting the children to settle on the floor of the boat.

‘I’ve already forgotten all about it,’ Patrik shouted, slowly shoving the tiller away from him, which made the boat swing around with the aft towards the harbour and the bow facing Fjällbacka.

It was a radiantly beautiful Sunday morning, with a clear blue sky and mirror-smooth water. Shrieking gulls circled overhead, and when Erica looked around, she noticed that people were eating breakfast on several of the boats in the harbour. No doubt plenty of people were also still in bed, sleeping off the booze they’d consumed the night before. Saturday nights involved a good deal of drinking for the visiting youths. I’m glad those days are past, she thought and then glanced with much greater tenderness at the children who were now sitting quietly in the boat.

She went over to stand beside Patrik, leaning her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek.

‘By the way,’ he said suddenly. ‘When we get there, remind me to ask you some questions about Valö and the summer camp.’

‘What do you want to know?’ asked Erica with interest.

‘I’ll tell you later, when we have a bit of peace and quiet,’ he said, giving her another kiss.

She knew he was doing this to tease her. She was itching to know more, but she controlled herself. Silently she raised her hand to shade her eyes as she gazed at Valö. As they slowly chugged past, she caught a glimpse of the big white house. Would they ever find out what happened out there so many years ago? She hated books and movies that failed to answer all the questions in the end, and she could hardly bear to read about unsolved murders in the newspapers. When she’d started digging into the Valö case, she’d found out nothing new, despite searching long and hard for an explanation. The truth was as hidden as the house, which was now out of sight behind the trees.

Martin paused for a moment with his hand in the air before pressing the doorbell. He soon heard someone approaching inside, and he had to fight back an impulse to turn around and leave. The door opened, and Annika stared at him in surprise.

‘Martin? What are you doing here? Has something happened?’

He forced a smile. But Annika was the wrong person to try to fool, and that was essentially why he’d come to her house. Ever since he’d started at the station, she’d been like a substitute mother to him, and right now she was the one he wanted to talk to.

‘Well, you see, I …’ That was all he could manage.

‘Come in,’ said Annika. ‘We’ll go in the kitchen and have a cup of coffee. Then you can tell me what’s on your mind.’

Martin stepped inside, took off his shoes, and followed her.

‘Sit down,’ she said, and with a practised hand she began putting scoops of coffee grounds in the filter. ‘Where are Pia and Tuva?’

‘They’re at home. I said I was going for a walk, so I have to get back soon. We’re thinking of heading out to the beach.’

‘Ah. Sounds nice. Leia loves to swim too. We were out at the bathing beach earlier today, and we could hardly get her out of the water when it was time to come home. She loves the water, that girl. Lennart just went off with her so I could catch up on some cleaning.’

Annika’s face lit up when she talked about her daughter. It was almost a year now since she and her husband Lennart, after many years of sorrow and grief, had been able to bring home their adopted daughter from China. These days everything in their lives revolved around Leia.

Martin couldn’t imagine a better mother than Annika. She had such an air of warmth and concern, and she always made him feel secure. Right now he would have liked nothing more than to lean against her shoulder and let loose the tears that were threatening, but he restrained himself. If he started crying, he might never stop.

‘I think I’ll get out a few buns.’ She took a bag from the freezer and put two buns in the microwave. ‘I baked yesterday, and was planning to take some over to the station.’

‘I hope you realize that it’s not part of your job description to keep us supplied with treats,’ said Martin.

‘I don’t think Mellberg would agree with you about that. If I were to study my employment contract more carefully, I’m sure the small print would read: Supply the Tanum police station with homemade baked goods.’

‘My God, without you and the bakery, Bertil wouldn’t last a day.’

‘I know. Especially since Rita put him on a diet. According to Paula, they’re eating nothing but wholewheat bread and vegetables at Bertil and Rita’s flat lately.’

‘I’d like to see that.’ Martin burst out laughing. It was nice to laugh, and some of the tension he was feeling started to ease.

The microwave dinged, and Annika put the warm buns on a plate and then set two cups of coffee on the table as well.

‘All right now. Help yourself and then tell me what’s bothering you. I could see something was wrong earlier today, but I thought I’d let you talk about it in your own good time.’

‘It might not be anything, and I don’t want to bother you with my problems, but …’ Martin noticed with frustration that sobs were already rising in his throat.

‘Don’t be silly. That’s why I’m sitting here. Now tell me.’

Martin took a deep breath. ‘Pia is sick,’ he said at last, hearing how the words echoed off the walls in the kitchen.

He saw Annika’s face turn pale. This was probably not what she was expecting. He rotated the coffee cup between his hands and started over. Suddenly the words came pouring out.

‘She’s been feeling tired for a long time. Actually, ever since Tuva was born, but we thought nothing of it. It just seemed a normal response after having a baby. But Tuva is almost two now, and Pia hasn’t been feeling any better. In fact, it’s getting worse and worse. Then Pia noticed several lumps in her neck …’

Annika’s hand flew to her mouth, as if she understood where this conversation was going.

‘And a few weeks ago I went with her to see a doctor, and I could tell at once what he suspected. She got an immediate referral to see a specialist in Uddevalla, and we went there so she could have some tests. And now she has an appointment with an oncologist tomorrow afternoon to hear the results, but we already know what they’re going to say.’ Tears began rolling down his face, and he angrily wiped them away.

Annika handed him a paper napkin. ‘Go ahead and cry. It usually helps.’

‘It’s so unfair. Pia is only thirty-three, and Tuva is still a baby, and I’ve Googled the statistics, and if it’s what we think, the odds aren’t very good. Pia is being incredibly brave, but I’m such a bloody coward, and I can’t bear to talk to her about all this. I can hardly stand to see her with Tuva or even look her in the eye. I feel so damned useless!’ He could no longer hold back the tears. He leaned over the table, burying his head in his arms and sobbing so hard that his whole body shook.

Annika put her arm around his shoulders and pressed her cheek against his. She didn’t say a word, just kept stroking his back. After a while, he sat up, turned towards her, and crept into her arms. Annika gently rocked him, the way she would have rocked Leia if she’d hurt herself.

They had been lucky to find a table at the Café Bryggan. All of the outdoor seating was taken, and Leon watched as one shrimp sandwich after another was served. The location near Ingrid Bergman Square was perfect, with tables along the entire wharf, all the way out to the water.

‘I think we should buy the house,’ said Ia.

He turned to gape at his wife. ‘Ten million kronor isn’t exactly small change.’

‘Did I say it was?’ She leaned forward to straighten the blanket on his lap.

‘Leave the damn blanket alone. I’m sweating to death.’

‘You’re not supposed to catch cold. You know that.’

A waitress came over to their table, and Ia ordered a glass of wine for herself and mineral water for Leon. He glanced up at the young girl.

‘I’ll have a large beer,’ he said.

Ia gave him a reproachful look, but he merely nodded at the waitress. She reacted in the same way that everyone he met always did, making an exaggerated effort not to stare at the scars from the burns. When she left, he gazed out at the water.

‘It smells just the way I remember,’ said Leon. His hands, covered with thick scar tissue, rested in his lap.

‘I still don’t care for this place. But I’ll learn to like it if we buy the house,’ Ia said. ‘I have no intention of living in some hovel, and I don’t plan to be here all summer. A couple of weeks a year should be sufficient.’

‘Don’t you think it’s unreasonable to buy a house for ten million if we’re only planning to use it a couple of weeks a year?’

‘Those are my conditions,’ she said. ‘Otherwise you can stay here alone. And that won’t work, will it?’

‘No. I realize that I can’t manage on my own. And on the rare occasions I forget, I can always count on you to remind me.’

‘Do you ever think about all the sacrifices I’ve made for your sake? I have to put up with your crazy whims, and you never consider how I feel. And now you want to come here. Aren’t you a little too burnt to be playing with fire?’

The waitress brought the wine and the beer, setting the glasses on the blue-and-white checked cloth. Leon took several swigs and then ran his thumb over the cold glass.

‘Okay, do whatever you want. Call that estate agent and say that we’re going to buy the house. But I want to move in as soon as possible. I hate staying in a hotel.’

‘Great,’ said Ia without enthusiasm. ‘If we have that house, I’m sure I can stand being here a couple of weeks a year.’

‘You’re so brave, darling.’

She gave him a dark look. ‘Let’s just hope that you don’t regret this decision.’

‘A lot of water has gone under the bridge,’ he said calmly.

At that moment he heard someone behind him gasp with surprise.

‘Leon?’

He flinched. He didn’t have to turn his head to recognize that voice. Josef. After all these years, there stood Josef.

Paula gazed out across the glittering fjord, enjoying the heat. She put a hand on her stomach and smiled when she felt the kicking.

‘Okay, I think it’s about time for some ice cream,’ said Mellberg, getting to his feet. He cast a glance at Paula and wagged his finger at her. ‘Don’t you know that it’s not a good idea to expose your stomach to sunlight?’

She stared at him in astonishment as he headed for the kiosk.

‘Is he pulling my leg?’ said Paula, turning to her mother.

Rita laughed. ‘Bertil means well.’

Paula muttered to herself but got out a shawl to cover her stomach. Leo dashed past, totally naked. Johanna quickly caught up with him.

‘Bertil’s right,’ she said. ‘The UV rays can cause pigment changes, so you should also slather your face with sunblock.’

‘Pigment changes?’ said Paula. ‘But my skin is already brown.’

Rita handed her a bottle of factor 30 sunblock. ‘I got lots of brown spots on my face when I was pregnant with you, so don’t argue.’

Paula obeyed, and Johanna rubbed some on her own fair skin.

‘Well, you’re lucky,’ she said. ‘At least you don’t get sunburnt.’

‘I just wish Bertil would take things a little easier,’ said Paula, squeezing a big blob of sunblock into the palm of her hand. ‘This morning I caught him reading my pregnancy magazines. And the day before yesterday he brought home a bottle of Omega-3 oil for me from the health food store. He read in some magazine that it was good for the development of the baby’s brain.’

‘He’s so happy about the whole thing. Leave him be,’ said Rita. For the second time she began smearing sunblock on Leo from head to toe. He had inherited Johanna’s ruddy, freckled skin, and he burned easily in the sun. Paula wondered absentmindedly whether the baby would have her colouring or that of the unknown donor. It didn’t matter to her. Leo was their son – Johanna’s and hers – and she hardly ever thought about the fact that anyone else had been involved. The same would be true of this baby.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Mellberg’s happy shout. ‘Ice-cream time!’

Rita fixed him with a stern glare. ‘I hope you didn’t buy any for yourself.’

‘Only a tiny Magnum. I’ve been so good all week.’ He smiled and gave Rita a wink, in an attempt to get her to relent.

‘Nothing doing,’ she said calmly, taking the ice cream away from him and tossing it into the rubbish bin.

Mellberg muttered something.

‘What did you say?’

He swallowed. ‘Nothing. Not a word.’

‘You know what the doctor said. You’re in the risk group for heart attacks and diabetes.’

‘One Magnum isn’t going to do me any harm. A man’s got to live a little once in a while,’ he said, handing out the other ice cream bars that he’d bought.

‘Another week of holiday left,’ said Paula, closing her eyes to the sun as she ate her Cornetto.

‘I really don’t think you should go back to work,’ said Johanna. ‘The baby’s due soon. I’m sure you could take sick leave if you talked to the midwife. You need to rest.’

‘Stop right there,’ said Mellberg. ‘I heard what you said. Don’t forget that I’m Paula’s boss.’ He pensively scratched his thinning grey hair. ‘But I agree. I don’t think you should be working either.’

‘We’ve already discussed this. I’ll go crazy if I just sit around at home, waiting. Besides, things are pretty quiet at the moment.’

‘What do you mean by quiet?’ Johanna stared at her. ‘This is the most hectic time of the whole year, with drunks and everything else.’

‘I mean that we don’t have any big investigation in progress. The usual summer break-ins, et cetera – I can handle those in my sleep. And I don’t need to go driving around. I can stay at the station and take care of the paperwork. So quit fussing. I’m pregnant, not sick.’

‘We’ll see how things go,’ said Mellberg. ‘But you’re right about one thing. It’s actually nice and quiet at the moment.’

It was their wedding anniversary, and Gösta had brought fresh flowers to put on Maj-Britt’s grave, just as he did every year. Otherwise he wasn’t very good about tending to the grave, but that had nothing to do with his feelings for Maj-Britt. They’d had many happy years together, and not a day went by that he didn’t miss her. Of course he had grown used to his life as a widower, and his days were so regimented that sometimes it felt like a distant dream when he thought about how he’d once shared the small house with someone else. But the fact that he’d got used to life alone didn’t mean that he liked it.

He squatted down and touched the letters etched into the headstone, spelling out the name of their little boy. There were no photos of him. They’d thought that they had all the time in the world to take pictures of him, and it hadn’t occurred to them to take any photos right after the birth. And when he died, no pictures were taken. That just wasn’t done. He understood that they handled things differently these days, but back then a person was supposed to forget and move on.

Have another child as soon as you can. That was the advice they were given as they left the hospital in shock. But that was not to be. The only child they’d ever had was the girl. The lass, as they called her. Maybe they ought to have done more to keep her, but their grief was still too great, and they didn’t think they’d be able to give her what she needed, except for a brief time.

It was Maj-Britt who had finally made the decision. He had tentatively suggested that they should take care of the girl, that she should be allowed to stay. Maj-Britt had replied: ‘She needs siblings.’ And so the little girl had disappeared. They never spoke of her afterwards, but Gösta hadn’t been able to forget her. If he had a one-krona coin for every time he’d thought about her since then, he’d be a wealthy man today.

Gösta got up. He’d pulled out a few weeds that had sprouted up, and the bouquet of flowers looked lovely in the vase. He could hear Maj-Britt’s voice so clearly in his mind: ‘Oh, Gösta, what nonsense. Wasting such gorgeous flowers on me.’ She had never believed that she deserved anything out of the ordinary, and he wished that he had thrown caution to the wind and spoiled her more often. Given her flowers when she could actually enjoy them. Now he could only hope that she was up there somewhere, looking down, and that the beautiful flowers made her happy.

FJÄLLBACKA 1919

The Sjölins were having another party. Dagmar was grateful for every occasion that they celebrated with a party. She needed the extra income, and it was marvellous to have the chance to see up close all those rich and beautiful people. They lived such wonderful and carefree lives. They ate good food and drank copiously, they danced, sang, and laughed until dawn. She wished that her own life was like that, but so far she would have to settle for waiting on those more fortunate, basking in their presence for a short while.

This party seemed to be something special. Early in the morning she and the other staff had been taken over to an island off Fjällbacka, and all day long boats had shuttled back and forth, bringing food, wine, and guests.

‘Dagmar! You need to fetch more wine from the root cellar!’ shouted Mrs Sjölin, the doctor’s wife. Dagmar hurried off.

She was anxious to stay on good terms with Mrs Sjölin. The last thing she wanted was for the woman to start keeping an eye on her. If that happened, Mrs Sjölin would soon notice the glances and affectionate pinches her husband kept giving Dagmar during their parties. Sometimes he went even further, if his wife excused herself and retired to her room. By then the rest of the revellers would be too drunk or preoccupied with their own merriment to care about anything else going on around them. After those occasions, the doctor would slip Dagmar a little extra when the wages were handed out.

Quickly she plucked up four bottles of wine and dashed back up the steps with them. She was hugging them close to her chest when she ran right into somebody, and the bottles fell to the ground. Two of them broke, and Dagmar realized with anguish that the cost would most likely be deducted from her wages. Tears began rolling down her cheeks as she stared at the man in front of her.

‘Forgive me!’ he said, but the Danish words he spoke sounded strange.

Her distress swiftly turned to anger.

‘What do you think you’re doing? Don’t you know you can’t stand in front of a door like that?’

‘Forgive me,’ he repeated. ‘Ich verstehe nicht,’ he said in German.

Suddenly Dagmar knew who he was. She had collided with the evening’s guest of honour, the German hero, the pilot who had fought bravely during the war. But after Germany’s stinging defeat, he had been making his living by flying in air shows. Everyone had been whispering about him all day. He’d apparently made a home for himself in Copenhagen, but it was rumoured that some scandal had now forced him to come to Sweden.

Dagmar stared at him. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He didn’t seem to be as drunk as many of the other guests, and his gaze was unwavering as he looked into her eyes. For a long moment they stood there, staring at each other. Dagmar lifted her chin. She knew she was beautiful. She’d had this confirmed so many times by men who ran their hands over her body and panted words in her ear. But never before had she been so pleased with her own beauty.

Without taking his eyes off her, the pilot bent down and began picking up shards of glass from the broken bottles. Carefully he carried them over to a little grove of trees and tossed them to the ground. Then he set his finger to his lips, stepped into the root cellar and brought out two more bottles. Dagmar smiled gratefully as she went over to take the bottles from him. She happened to glance down at his hands and discovered that he was bleeding from a cut on his left index finger.

She gestured to show that she wanted to have a look at his hand, so he set the bottles on the ground. It was not a deep cut, but it was bleeding heavily. With her eyes fixed on his, she put his finger in her mouth and gently sucked away the blood. His eyes widened, and she saw the familiar look as they glazed over. She moved away and picked up the bottles. As she turned and walked back to the guests, she could feel his eyes following her.