Текст книги "Still Waters"

Автор книги: Viveca Sten

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

WEDNESDAY, THE THIRD WEEK

CHAPTER 28

Charlotte Öhman, the prosecutor, peered at Thomas. Her light-brown hair was fastened at the back of her neck, and she had pushed her glasses up on top of her head. She was rolling a pen between her thumb and forefinger as she tried to grasp the situation.

“If I’ve understood this correctly, we have one deceased cousin where we know the cause of death, but we have no idea if he was killed by someone. Then we have another deceased cousin whom we suspect was murdered, but we are unable to establish that fact at the moment.”

“Exactly.”

The prosecutor made a note on her pad. She was left-handed. She had a furrow of concern on her forehead that resembled a figure eight. Thomas had never seen anything like it.

“And how are you intending to proceed?”

Charlotte raised her eyebrows a fraction. She didn’t seem particularly impressed by the investigation so far. Hardly surprising, Thomas thought, given that they had made so little progress.

He went over the points the team had raised the previous day and outlined the way in which they intended to move the investigation forward. He summarized what they had done so far and the conclusions they had been able to draw.

The room fell silent, and Charlotte leaned back in her chair. She unclipped the barrette holding her ponytail in place, then refastened it—a ritual seemingly designed to give her time to think.

“I’m not sure if there’s much substance to this smuggling idea, but I agree that you ought to look into it. The most important thing at the moment is to track Kicki Berggren’s movements on Sandhamn and find the people she met.”

“I’ve spoken to Inger Gunnarsson, the waitress who served her that Friday evening. According to her, Berggren was in the bar with Jonny Almhult for several hours. They ordered several rounds of beer, and it seemed as if they were getting along well. She certainly didn’t have the impression that Kicki Berggren was in any way afraid of Almhult.”

Charlotte made notes and nodded. “That sounds good,” she said. “Sandhamn is a small island, so it seems reasonable that a number of people must have met her.” She unfastened and refastened the barrette again. “When are you expecting the detailed analysis from Linköping?”

“I expect it will take a few more days; by the end of the week at the earliest, I think. We’ve asked them to give it priority, but they’re short-staffed in the summer, just like everyone else.”

The prosecutor smiled. “I appreciate that it could take a while before we have definite information, so just carry on as best you can.”

“Of course.”

“Keep me informed.” She jotted down a few additional points. “By the way, have you checked on the financial situation?”

“There are no large sums of money floating around. Krister Berggren had a savings account containing a few thousand kronor; Kicki Berggren had a monthly savings plan, but we’re not talking unusual amounts.”

Charlotte nodded. “So if they were making money from smuggling booze, there’s no sign of it in their bank accounts,” she said. “Did either of them have a safety deposit box?”

“Not that we know of, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. We’ll keep looking.”

Thomas stood on the steps outside the prosecutor’s office. It was a glorious day, perfect for sitting in the sunshine with ice cream. You could hardly imagine more unsuitable weather for a murder investigation.

He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked at his watch. There was a boat back to Sandhamn after lunch; with a bit of luck he might catch it.

CHAPTER 29

Strindberg’s Café was almost full as Thomas, Erik, and Kalle sat down with cups of coffee.

Just a few yards away a young girl in a white apron was making waffles, using big black old-fashioned waffle irons. They were obviously popular, because they disappeared as soon as they were ready. She had a large bowl of whipped cream in front of her and another of dark-red strawberry jam, both of which she heaped on generously.

Thomas thought they looked delicious, in spite of the warm weather. The golden waffles reminded him of when he was a little boy and used to come over from Harö with his parents. If he were lucky they would come to Strindberg’s.

They were sitting in one of the booths, which was made from a skiff standing on end. A fishing net was draped over the prow for decoration. It didn’t provide much in the way of shade, but it did create an authentic atmosphere.

The name of the café came from the fact that August Strindberg had spent the night there when he’d visited Sandhamn in his youth. When he spent time on the island later in life, during his marriage to Siri von Essen, he had stayed elsewhere, but the café had borne his name ever since.

Thomas noticed that the dish of the day was fried herring with mashed potatoes. What could be better out here in the archipelago?

As Erik and Kalle discussed the forthcoming Stockholm derby between Hammarby and Djurgården, Thomas’s thoughts returned to his conversation with Kicki Berggren’s friend, Agneta Ahlin.

It had taken Carina just a few hours to track her down on Kos, where she was still working, and she had passed on a number where Agneta could be reached. The conversation hadn’t made things any clearer. Thomas had explained what had happened and said that he would like to ask her a few questions. Agneta had become distraught and had wept most of the time. She had been unable to accept that Kicki was dead. She had no idea why anyone would have wanted to kill her friend or Krister, whom she had met only once. The police already knew more or less everything she could tell him about the relationship between the cousins, and she didn’t have much else to add.

Agneta did, however, tell him that Kicki had called her the day she found out Krister was dead. Kicki had been devastated, and they had talked for a long time. Toward the end of the conversation Kicki had hinted that she had an idea why her cousin had been found dead on Sandhamn. She had made some cryptic remark, said that was where the money was, but then she had changed the subject and talked about other things. She hadn’t told Agneta that she was intending to travel to Sandhamn.

Kicki had talked a lot about money, according to Agneta, and was always complaining that she was broke. She was fed up with her job but didn’t know how she could afford to give it up or get another job, because she had no qualifications. While she was in Greece she had given some thought to how she could earn more money. The question had come up on several occasions.

After the call, which was memorable largely for the sound of Agneta sobbing, Thomas wasn’t really any the wiser.

But the information that Kicki needed money was interesting. If she had known that her cousin was involved in something illegal, she might well have decided to exploit this knowledge in order to make some cash—the easy money she had been wanting for so long.

Sandhamn, that’s where the money is, Kicki had told her friend.

Thomas thought about the comment. Was it a failed attempt to get ahold of that money that had led to her death?

THURSDAY, THE THIRD WEEK

CHAPTER 30

Why do kids enjoy playing in the sand so much? Nora wondered as she spread the beach towels out on the shore at Trouville. The boys had been nagging her for several days to bring them here. She thought they might have had enough of swimming, since they were taking lessons every day, but a trip to the beach was still the best thing in the world.

The beaches at Trouville were among the finest stretches of sand in the archipelago. There was a reason the real name of the island was Sandön, or Sand Island, although most people these days called it Sandhamn. It was one of the few islands in the Stockholm archipelago that didn’t consist mainly of rocks.

As soon as they woke up, both boys had started campaigning for a trip to the beach. Adam had asked if they could miss their swimming lessons for today, and Nora had allowed herself to be persuaded. Once in three weeks wasn’t the end of the world, after all. In addition, the water was unusually warm: seventy-two degrees. It wasn’t often possible to swim in water like that in the outer archipelago.

Once breakfast was eaten and cleared away, Nora packed their swimming gear and beach towels. Simon found their brightly colored plastic buckets and spades, then they cycled across the sand, past the tennis courts, and through the forest until they reached Trouville.

Adam complained that they were cycling too slowly, but Simon was pedaling as fast as his little legs could go. Nora hadn’t the heart to tell him to hurry up.

After a mile, the Trouville road ended in a fork, and they headed off to the right. Just a few hundred yards along the track they reached the shore.

As it was still quite early, the tourists from Stockholm had not yet arrived. When they came on the ferry from the city at about eleven o’clock, the beach was usually packed, but it was still only ten, so Nora and the boys could choose where they wanted to set up.

Nora certainly didn’t begrudge the tourists their enjoyment of the islands, but she couldn’t help thinking how nice it had been when she was a child and the stream of visitors was a mere trickle. Now she could almost imagine the island was going to sink when she saw all the people pouring off the ferries in July.

Henrik had arrived home late and left early. He would be out sailing all day. She had tried raising the issue of the post in Malmö again, but he made it clear that he wasn’t interested in talking about it. The recruitment company had contacted her, just as the HR director had said they would. They had agreed that she would come into Stockholm the following week for an interview. Nora really wanted to hear more about the new job, but a meeting presupposed that she and Henrik had decided it was a good idea to continue the discussions.

As she dug out sunscreen and sunglasses, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from running away with her. Why not go and meet the consultant, Rutger Sandelin? It couldn’t do any harm, could it? It was just like any other interview really, even if it was being held somewhere other than the office. If she didn’t bother turning up for the interview, HR would think she was crazy. She’d been offered a really exciting job, and yet she couldn’t even be bothered to go through the motions.

She squirted plenty of sunscreen on her shoulders and arms, then rubbed it in with a frenzy that suggested it was a matter of life and death, rather than the avoidance of a sunburn.

With a deep breath she decided she would at least find out what the job involved. The boys could spend the day with her parents. She and Henrik could discuss it later, when she had something concrete to tell him. At the moment it was all quite vague; it wasn’t worth making a stand until she knew more.

The simplest thing would be to say that she had to go into the office for the morning. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to make a quick dash into work during the summer. Since it took her only a few hours to get into the city, it was easy to call her in when something urgent came up. At least that’s what her ghastly boss thought. He parked himself and his family on Gotland for the entire summer and refused to get himself back to Stockholm unless it was absolutely essential. Which meant a message either came down from the managing director of the bank or God.

In that order.

Somewhere deep inside she could hear a little voice asking what was really driving her. Why couldn’t she be satisfied with what she had? Appreciate her life, which gave her the opportunity to combine an enjoyable job with a husband and children. A happy marriage, wonderful kids, and enough money to be able to afford the house on Sandhamn. Why turn everything upside down? Why challenge Henrik, instead of paying attention to the clear signals he had given her?

She took the bottle of cold juice out of the beach bag and set it in the shade. She could see her uncertainty and anxiety reflected in its chrome surface. She wasn’t at all sure where she and Henrik were heading.

Suddenly she decided to forget the whole thing. It could only lead to trouble in their marriage. No new job was worth that. No boss was so useless that she couldn’t put up with him. It was better to stay where she was than to start something when she didn’t know where it would lead. The whole thing was ridiculous, just a whim. How could she even think of sneaking off to town behind Henrik’s back?

She took out her cell phone and called Rutger Sandelin to tell him that she couldn’t come and see him, after all, that she’d changed her mind. He could inform HR that she was no longer interested. The number was busy. She sat there with the phone in her hand, then pressed redial. Still busy. Then she started to have second thoughts.

What harm could it do to go and see Sandelin? She had never met anyone from a recruitment company, and she was curious. Plus, her only aim was to find out what he had to offer before she brought the matter up with Henrik again. She was bound to learn something from the experience.

Nora cursed herself. She was being ridiculous. The idea of calling and turning the job down before she had even met Sandelin was just stupid. Of course Henrik would agree that she ought to at least go and see him before making a decision.

She put the phone back in her bag. One meeting wouldn’t do any harm.

CHAPTER 31

The sun was blazing down in spite of the fact that it was only eleven in the morning. Even the cry of the gulls sounded more tired than usual in the heat. The boys had spread out their buckets and spades and had started to build a sandcastle down by the water.

Nora had positioned herself so she could keep an eye on them while reading her book. It was by an English author and was about combining life as a professional woman working full-time with bringing up young children. She was completely absorbed by a hilarious chapter where the mother discovers late one evening that her daughter is supposed to take mince pies into school the following day for a bake sale. In desperation she buys a batch from the supermarket and bashes them with a rolling pin to make them look homemade.

Nora understood exactly how she felt. She stretched in the sun, enjoying the heat. Then she shaped the sand under her towel to provide better support for her neck. Little piles of fine sand had already accumulated in the towel’s creases, in spite of the fact that she had only been lying there for a short while.

Simon came rushing over with his bucket. “Come and help us build a sandcastle!” He threw his sandy arms around her neck.

Nora smiled and kissed his forehead. “Why not?” she said. She put down her book and picked up a spare bucket and spade. She adjusted her bikini and walked down to the water, glancing out across the waves. In the distance she could see an odd shape, a long, dark lump, floating some distance offshore. It looked like an old, rotten log, bobbing awkwardly with the movement of the water.

Something wasn’t right.

“Hang on, I’m just going to look at something,” she shouted to the boys. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

She waded out a little way, but it was difficult to see because of the bright sunshine reflected on the water. She tried to shade her eyes with one hand as she moved farther out. The light was so intense that it dazzled her, however much she screwed up her eyes. Soon she was a good thirty yards from the shore and was able to make out more than a vague outline.

Then she realized what it was.

Her hand flew to her mouth in horror.

“This can’t be happening,” she whispered. “Not again.”

She took a deep breath and cautiously moved closer. A man’s body was floating facedown in front of her. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and had longish brown hair. She couldn’t tell whether he was dead or not, but she started to run through the water as fast as she could. It was hard work, and it felt as if it was taking an eternity to cover those last few strides.

When she reached the body she grabbed an arm. Touching it felt strange, but it was surprisingly easy to turn the body over. Once it was on its back, she recognized the man immediately.

Jonny Almhult, Ellen’s son.

Jonny who had mended their fence and lived just a short distance away.

Nora felt the cold sweat break out on her forehead. It was the first time she had touched a dead body. It was almost like a film, but this was real.

She fought off the impulse to throw up and bit her lip hard. Jonny’s body must be brought ashore. The police must be informed immediately.

She glanced over at Adam and Simon. They were still playing and didn’t seem interested in what she was doing.

They mustn’t see the body.

Nora tried to wave to some people on the beach to show she needed help, but none of them noticed. She didn’t yell, because she didn’t want to frighten the children. Instead, she took ahold of Jonny’s T-shirt and started dragging him toward the shore. It took all her strength, and her arms began to ache after only a couple of minutes. She ended up nudging the body along, as far away from the boys as possible. When she finally got him to the water’s edge, both sweat and tears were pouring down her face.

“Don’t come over here,” she shouted to the boys, waving them away. “Stay where you are.”

She ran to her bag and grabbed her phone. She called Thomas as quickly as she could. “It’s Nora. I’m on Trouville beach. I’ve just found Jonny Almhult. He was floating in the water. Like a lump of wood. He’s dead.” She started giggling hysterically and pinched her arm to stop herself. “Sorry. It was just so horrible. I’m here with the boys. I don’t know what to do.” The last sentence ended in a sob. She felt dizzy and could hardly stay on her feet.

Thomas’s familiar voice was a relief. It was the first time she had encountered him in a professional capacity. Just talking to him calmed her down.

“Listen to me, Nora. Take deep, slow breaths. You’re starting to hyperventilate; you need to calm down.”

“OK.” Nora could hear her own voice as if it were coming from a distance. It sounded weak and breathless.

“Sit down on the sand. Are you going to faint?”

“I don’t know,” Nora said.

“Put your head down, and try to slow your breathing.”

Nora did as she was told, and after a few minutes she started to feel better.

“You need to stay there until I get to you,” Thomas said. “Can you do that?”

“I’ll try.”

“I’m already in the village. I just need to borrow a bike. You can do this. I know you can. Just stay calm. I’ll be there in no time.”

Nora tucked her legs beneath her on the warm sand. It was unreal, seeing a dead body just a few feet away.

In the distance she could see Adam looking anxiously in her direction. He probably thought her blood sugar was low because of her diabetes. Which was better than him finding out what had really happened.

She waved at him.

“Play with Simon,” she shouted. “I’ll be there soon.”

CHAPTER 32

In the afternoon, Jonny’s body was taken to the forensic pathologist in Solna. After that, Thomas spent a few hours at the local station, which by this time was starting to feel like home. He settled down in the small interview room on the first floor, which had been transformed into a temporary office. He did all the necessary paperwork and called both Persson and Margit to inform them that Jonny Almhult was no longer missing.

Dead. Probably drowned.

With some difficulty he persuaded Persson to allow him to remain on the island, rather than travel back to the mainland to attend the press conference, which had been arranged for seven o’clock that evening—just in time to make the evening bulletins.

Thomas insisted that someone had to inform Ellen Almhult that her son was no longer alive. He wasn’t looking forward to the task, but common decency dictated that it couldn’t be entrusted to anyone else. Besides which, the idea of participating in a press conference wasn’t remotely appealing, and there were plenty of others who enjoyed that kind of thing.

Persson raised objections but eventually gave in after complaining about all the idiots who kept asking him for information he didn’t have. The chief constable wanted to be kept up to date daily, while at the same time making it clear that he wasn’t happy about the fact that his vacation was being interrupted.

What was he complaining about? At least he was having a vacation!

Persson didn’t have much time for bureaucrats within the police service who spent their time breathing down the necks of officers in the field. They must be allowed to carry out their investigations without interference; that was his mantra, which he repeated to anyone who tried to meddle.

Thomas stared at the calendar on the beige wall. Eighteen days had now passed since the bright summer morning when Krister Berggren’s body had been found on Sandhamn’s western shore. Eighteen days, which meant it was four hundred and thirty-two hours since the first body turned up. If his minicalculator was working, they’d had 25,920 minutes at their disposal to work out why first Krister Berggren and then his cousin had lost their lives.

If they had succeeded, perhaps Jonny Almhult would have been alive today, instead of having been found floating facedown off Trouville beach.

And Ellen Almhult, who was already a widow, would not have lost her only son.

Deep down Thomas firmly believed all three had been murdered by the same person. His instincts told him that the deaths were linked and that someone who had no hesitation about killing those who stood in his way was hiding in the shadows.

But how were they going to find him?

Thomas clenched both fists so tightly that his fingers ached. He hadn’t a clue why someone had taken the lives of three people. The only thing he did know was that there was a murderer on the loose on Sandhamn.

And that the police had no idea who it was or how to prevent the next murder.