Читать книгу The Hidden Child - Camilla Lackberg - Страница 8

To his surprise, Patrik enjoyed taking walks. He hadn’t had much time for working out the past few years, but if he could take a long walk every day while he was on paternity leave, he might be able to rid himself of the paunch he was starting to get. The fact that Erica had cut back on sweets at home was also having its effect, helping him to shed a few pounds.

He passed the petrol station and continued at a brisk pace along the road heading south. Maja was sitting in her pushchair, facing forward and babbling happily. She loved being outside and greeted everyone they met with a gleeful ‘Hi’ and a big smile. She was truly a little sunbeam, although she could also show a real mischievous streak when she set her mind to it. She must get that from Erica’s side of the family, thought Patrik.

As they continued along the road, he felt more and more satisfied with his life. He was looking forward to a new daily routine, and it was good to have the house to themselves at last. Not that he didn’t like Anna and her kids, but it had been rather trying to live under the same roof month after month. Now there remained only the issue of his mother to contend with. He always felt caught in the middle between Erica and his mother. Of course he understood Erica’s irritation at his mother’s habit of rattling off criticisms about their parenting skills every time she came to visit. Still, he wished Erica would do as he did and just turn a deaf ear to whatever his mother said. She could also show a little sympathy; Kristina lived alone, after all, with little to occupy her time other than her son and his family. His sister Lotta lived in Göteborg and even though that wasn’t so far away, it was still easier for Kristina to visit Patrik and Erica. And she was actually a big help sometimes. He and Erica had been able to go out to dinner on a couple of occasions while Kristina babysat, and… well, he just wished that Erica could see the positive side more often.

‘Look, look!’ said Maja excitedly, pointing her finger as they passed the Rimfaxe horses grazing in the pasture. They stopped a moment to watch; Patrik wasn’t particularly fond of the creatures, but he had to admit that Fjord horses actually were quite lovely, and they looked relatively harmless. He reminded himself to bring some apples and carrots next time. After Maja had seen her fill of the horses, they set off on the last leg of their route to the mill, where they would turn to go back towards Fjällbacka.

As they came in sight of the church tower looming over the crest of the hill, he suddenly caught sight of a familiar car. No blue lights flashing or siren wailing, so it couldn’t be an emergency situation, but he still felt his pulse quicken. No sooner had the first police car come over the hill than he saw the second one close behind. Patrik frowned. Both vehicles; that meant it must be something serious. He started waving when the first car was about a hundred metres away. It slowed down, and Patrik went over to talk to Martin, who was sitting behind the wheel. Maja eagerly waved both arms. In her world, it was always fun when something happened.

‘Hi, Hedström. Out for a walk?’ said Martin, waving to Maja.

‘Well, a guy has to keep in shape … What’s going on?’ The second police car came up behind and stopped. Patrik waved to Bertil and Gösta.

‘Hi, I’m Paula Morales.’ Only now did Patrik notice the woman in the police uniform sitting next to Martin. He shook hands with her and introduced himself, and then Martin answered his question.

‘We’ve had a report of a dead body. Right near here.’

‘Do you suspect foul play?’ Patrik asked with a frown.

Martin shrugged. ‘We don’t know anything yet. Two kids found the body and called us.’ The police car behind them honked, which made Maja jump in her pushchair.

‘Hey, Patrik,’ said Martin hastily. ‘Couldn’t you hop in and come along? I’m not feeling very comfortable with … you know who.’ Martin motioned towards the other car.

‘I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,’ said Patrik. ‘I’ve got my little girl with me … and officially I’m on leave, you know.’

‘Please,’ said Martin, tilting his head. ‘Just come along and take a look. I’ll run you home afterwards. There’s room for the pushchair in the boot.’

‘But you don’t have an infant seat in the car.’

‘Oh, you’re right. Well, how about if you walk over to the place? It’s just around the corner. The first street to the right, second house on the left-hand side. It says “Frankel” on the letter box.’

Patrik hesitated, but another honk from the second police car prompted him to make up his mind.

‘Okay, I’ll wander over, just to take a look. But you’ll have to watch Maja while I go inside. And not a word to Erica about this. She’d be furious if she found out that I took Maja to a possible crime scene.’

‘I promise,’ said Martin, winking. He waved to Bertil and Gösta and shifted into first. ‘See you there.’

‘Okay,’ said Patrik, with a strong feeling that this was something he was going to regret. But curiosity won out over his instinct for self-preservation; he turned the pushchair around and began swiftly heading for Hamburgsund.

‘Everything made of pine has to go!’ Anna was standing with her hands on her hips, trying for as stern an expression as she could muster.

‘What’s wrong with pine?’ said Dan, scratching his head.

‘It’s ugly! How can you even ask such a question?’ said Anna, but she couldn’t help laughing. ‘Don’t look so scared, love … But I really am going to have to insist. There’s nothing uglier than furniture made of pine. And that bed is the worst of all. Besides, I don’t want to go on sleeping in the same bed that you shared with Pernilla. I can live in the same house, but I can’t sleep in the same bed.’

‘That’s something I can understand. But it’s going to be expensive to buy a lot of new furniture.’ He looked worried. When he and Anna became a couple, he’d abandoned plans to sell the house, but it was still proving difficult to make ends meet.

‘I have the cash that I got from Erica when she bought my share of our parents’ house. Let’s use some of it to buy new things. We can do it together, or you can give me free rein – if you dare.’

‘Believe me, I’d rather not make decisions about furniture,’ said Dan. ‘As long as it’s not too outrageous, you can buy whatever the heck you want. Enough talk, come over here and give me a hug.’

As usual, things started to get hot and heavy, and Dan was just unhooking Anna’s bra when someone pulled open the front door and came in. Since there was a good view of the kitchen from the hall, there was no question of what was going on.

‘Jesus, how disgusting! I can’t believe you’re actually making out in the kitchen!’ Belinda stormed past and made for her room, her face bright red with fury. At the top of the stairs she stopped and shouted:

‘I’m going back to live with Mamma as soon as I can – do you hear me? At least there I won’t have to watch the two of you sticking your tongues down each other’s throats all the time! It’s gross! Do you hear me?’

Bang! The door to Belinda’s room slammed shut, and they heard the key turn. A second later the music started up, so loud that it made the plates on the counter jump and clatter to the beat.

‘Oops,’ said Dan with a wry expression as he looked up at the ceiling.

‘Yes, “oops” is the right word for it,’ Anna said, pulling out of his arms. ‘This really isn’t easy for her.’ She picked up the clinking plates and put them in the sink.

‘I know, but she’s just going to have to accept that I have a new woman in my life,’ said Dan, sounding annoyed.

‘Just try and put yourself in her position. First you and Pernilla get divorced, then a whole lot of …’ – she weighed her words carefully – ‘girlfriends come waltzing through here, and then I appear on the scene and move in with two little kids. Belinda is barely seventeen, which is tough enough, without having to get used to three strangers moving in.’

‘You’re right, I know that,’ said Dan with a sigh. ‘But I have no idea how to deal with a teenager. I mean, should I just leave her alone, or will that make her feel neglected? Or should I insist on talking to her and then risk having her think I’m pressuring her? There should be a manual for situations like this.’

Anna laughed. ‘I think they forgot about handing out manuals back in the maternity ward. But you could try talking to her. If she slams the door in your face, at least you’ve given it a try. And then you should try again. And again. She’s afraid of losing you. She’s afraid of losing the right to be a child. She’s afraid that we’re going to take over everything now that we’ve moved in. And that’s perfectly understandable.’

‘What did I do to deserve such a wise woman?’ said Dan, pulling Anna close again.

‘I don’t know,’ said Anna, smiling as she burrowed her face into his chest. ‘Mind you, I’m not particularly wise. It just seems that way, compared to your previous conquests.’

‘Hey, watch out,’ said Dan with a laugh as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. ‘If you keep that up, I might decide to hang on to the pine bed after all.’

‘So do you want me to stay here or not?’

‘Okay. You win. Consider it gone.’

They both laughed. And kissed. Overhead the pop music continued to pound, turned up to a deafening volume.

Martin saw the boys as soon as he turned on to the drive in front of the house. They were standing off to the side, both of them hugging their arms to their bodies and shivering. Their faces were pale, and they looked visibly relieved when they caught sight of the police cars.

‘Martin Molin,’ he said, shaking the hand of the first boy, who introduced himself as Adam Andersson, mumbling the name. The other boy waved his right hand, offering an apology with an embarrassed expression.

‘I threw up and wiped it off with my … Well, I don’t think I should shake hands.’

Martin nodded sympathetically. ‘All right, so what exactly happened here?’ He turned to Adam, who seemed more composed. He was shorter than his friend, with shaggy blond hair and an angry outbreak of acne on his cheeks.

‘Well, the thing is, we …’ Adam glanced over at Mattias, who merely shrugged, so he went on. ‘Well, we were thinking of going inside the house to have a look around, since it looked like the old guys had gone away.’

‘Old guys?’ said Martin. ‘So two people live here?’

Mattias replied, ‘Two brothers. I don’t know what their first names are, but my mother probably does. She’s been taking in their post since the beginning of June. One of the brothers always goes away during the summer, but not the other one. Except this time no one was taking in the post from the letter box, so we thought that …’ He left the rest of the sentence unspoken and looked down at his feet. A dead fly was still lying on one shoe. He kicked out in disgust, trying to knock it off. ‘Is he the one who’s dead inside the house?’ he said then, looking up.

‘At the moment you know more than we do,’ said Martin. ‘But go on. You were thinking of going inside, and then what happened?’

‘Mattias found a window that was open, and he climbed in first,’ said Adam. ‘Seems funny now, because when we came out we discovered that the front door was unlocked. So we could just as well have walked right in. Anyway, Mattias climbed in through the window and pulled me up after him. When we jumped down on to the floor, we noticed something crunching under our feet, but we didn’t see what it was because it was too dark.’

‘Dark?’ Martin interrupted him. ‘Why was it dark?’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Gösta, Paula and Bertil were now standing behind him, listening.

‘All the blinds were down,’ Adam explained patiently. ‘But we rolled up the blind of the window we’d come through. And then we saw that the floor was covered with dead flies. And the smell was horrible.’

‘Really awful,’ Mattias chimed in, looking as if he was fighting off another wave of nausea.

‘Then what?’ Martin said, in an effort to keep them on track.

‘Then we went further into the room, and the chair behind the desk was turned so the back was facing us, and we couldn’t tell what was there. But I had a feeling that … well, I’ve seen CSI, and with such an awful smell and all those dead flies … you don’t have to be Einstein to figure out that something had died in there. So I went over to the chair and turned it around. And there he was!’

Apparently the scene was still all too vivid for Mattias; he turned and threw up on the grass. He wiped off his mouth and whispered, ‘Sorry.’

‘That’s okay,’ said Martin. ‘We’ve all done the same thing at some point when we’ve seen a dead body.’

‘Not me,’ said Mellberg arrogantly.

‘Me neither,’ said Gösta laconically.

‘I never have either,’ Paula added.

Martin glanced over his shoulder and gave them all a stern look.

‘He looked really gross,’ Adam told them. In spite of the shock, he seemed to be taking a certain pleasure in the situation. Behind him Mattias had doubled over and was retching again, but he seemed to have nothing more in his stomach.

‘Could someone take the boys home?’ said Martin, turning to face his colleagues. At first no one answered, but then Gösta said:

‘I’ll take them. Come on, lads, hop in the car.’

‘We only live a few hundred metres from here,’ said Mattias weakly.

‘Then I’ll walk you home,’ said Gösta, gesturing for them to follow. They slunk after him in their typical teenage way – Mattias with a grateful expression, while Adam was obviously disappointed to miss out on what was going to happen next.

Martin watched until they were out of sight round the bend in the road and then said, without any hint of anticipation, ‘Well, let’s see what we have here.’

Bertil Mellberg cleared his throat. ‘I have no problem with dead bodies and the like – absolutely none; I’ve seen quite a few in my day. But somebody ought to check … the surrounding area too. Maybe it’d be best if I took on that assignment, since I’m the boss and the most experienced officer here.’ Again he cleared his throat.

Martin and Paula exchanged amused glances, but before replying, Martin was careful to put on a serious expression.

‘You’re got a point there, Bertil. It’d be best for someone with your experience to make a careful inspection of the site. Paula and I can go inside and take a look.’

‘Right … exactly. I think that would be best.’ Mellberg rocked back on his heels for a moment before sauntering off across the lawn.

‘Shall we go in?’ said Martin.

Paula merely nodded.

‘Careful now,’ Martin told her as he opened the door. ‘We don’t want to disturb any evidence in case it turns out that this was not a death from natural causes. We’ll just have a quick look around before the techs get here.’

‘I have five years’ experience in the violent crimes division with Regional Criminal Investigation in Stockholm. I know how to handle a potential crime scene,’ Paula replied good-naturedly.

‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t know that,’ said Martin, embarrassed, but then he focused his attention on the task at hand.

An uncanny silence reigned inside the house, broken only by their footsteps on the hall floor. Martin wondered if the silence would have seemed as creepy if they hadn’t known there was a corpse on the premises; he decided it wouldn’t have.

‘In there,’ he whispered, but then realized there was no reason to whisper. So in his normal voice he repeated the words, the sound bouncing off the walls.

Paula followed close behind as Martin took a couple more steps towards the room that was presumably the library and opened the door. The strange smell that they’d noticed as soon as they entered the house got stronger. The boys were right. There were flies all over the floor. Their feet made a crunching sound as he and Paula went in. The smell was intensely sweet, but by now it was only a fraction of what it must have been in the beginning.

‘There’s no doubt that someone died here a good while ago,’ said Paula, and then she and Martin both caught sight of what was seated at the far end of the room.

‘No doubt about it,’ said Martin. There was an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He steeled himself and cautiously headed across the room to the body sitting in the chair.

‘Stay there.’ He raised a hand to warn off Paula, who obediently stayed near the door. She wasn’t offended. The fewer police treading through the room, the better.

‘It doesn’t look like he died of natural causes,’ said Martin as the bile rose up in his throat. He swallowed over and over, fending off the urge to vomit as he concentrated on the job. In spite of the pitiful condition of the body, there was no doubt at all. A big contusion on one side of the victim’s head spoke volumes. The person seated in the chair had been the victim of a brutal assault.

Carefully Martin turned around and exited the room. Paula followed. After taking a few deep breaths of fresh air, the urge to throw up faded. At that moment he saw Patrik turn the corner and make his way down the gravel path.

‘It’s murder,’ said Martin as soon as Patrik was within earshot. ‘Torbjörn and his team will have to come out and get to work. There’s nothing more we can do right now.’

‘Okay,’ said Patrik, his expression grim. ‘Could I just …’ He stopped and glanced at Maja sitting in her pushchair.

‘Go in and take a look. I’ll watch Maja,’ said Martin eagerly. He went over and picked her up. ‘Come on, sweetie, let’s go and look at the flowers over there.’

‘Flowers,’ said Maja, pointing at the flower bed.

‘Did you go inside?’ Patrik asked Paula.

She nodded. ‘Not a pretty sight. Looks like he’s been sitting there all summer. That’s my opinion, at least.’

‘I suppose you saw your share of things during your years in Stockholm.’

‘Not too many bodies in that state, but a few nasty ones.’

‘Well, I’m going in to have a quick look. I’m actually on paternity leave, but …’

Paula smiled. ‘It’s hard to stay away, isn’t it? I understand. But Martin seems to have a good handle on things.’ With a smile she looked over at the flower bed where Martin was squatting down with Maja to admire the blooms.

‘He’s a rock. In every sense of the word,’ said Patrik as he started walking towards the house. A few minutes later he returned.

‘I agree with Martin. Not much doubt about it, given that massive contusion on the victim’s head.’

‘No trace of a suspect.’ Mellberg was huffing and puffing as he came round the corner. ‘So, how does it look? Have you been inside, Hedström?’ he demanded. Patrik nodded.

‘Yes, there’s little doubt that it’s murder. Are you going to call in the techs?’

‘Of course,’ said Mellberg pompously. ‘I’m the boss of this madhouse. And by the way, what are you doing here? You insisted on taking paternity leave, and now that you’ve got it, you pop up here like a jack-in-the-box.’ Mellberg turned to Paula: ‘I really don’t understand the modern generation – men staying home to change nappies and women running about in uniform.’ Abruptly he turned away and stomped back to the police car to summon the techs.

‘Welcome to Tanumshede,’ said Patrik drily, receiving an amused smile in reply.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not insulted. I’ve come across his kind before. If I let all the dinosaurs in uniform bother me, I would have thrown in the towel long ago.’

‘I’m glad you see it that way,’ Patrik said. ‘And the one advantage with Mellberg is that at least he’s consistent – he discriminates against everybody and everything.’

‘That’s comforting to know,’ said Paula with a laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ asked Martin, who was still holding Maja.

‘Mellberg,’ said Patrik and Paula in unison.

‘What did he say now?’

‘Oh, the usual,’ said Patrik, reaching for Maja. ‘But Paula seems able to handle it, so things should be okay. Right now this little lady and I need to go home. Wave goodbye, sweetheart.’

Maja waved and grinned at Martin, whose face lit up.

‘What, are you leaving me, my girl? I thought we had something special going, you and me.’ He stuck out his lower lip in a pout and pretended to look sad.

‘Maja is never going to be interested in any man but her pappa. Right, sweetie?’ Patrik rubbed his nose against Maja’s neck, making her shriek with laughter. Then he put her in the pushchair and waved to his colleagues. Part of him was relieved that he could walk away. But another part would have liked nothing better than to stay.

She was confused. Was it Monday? Or was it already Tuesday? Britta nervously paced the living room. It was so … frustrating. It felt as if the more she struggled to catch hold of something, the faster it evaded her grasp. In more lucid moments, a voice inside told her that she ought be able to control things through sheer force of will. She should be able to make her brain obey her. At the same time, she knew that her brain was changing, breaking down, losing its ability to remember, to hold on to moments, facts, information, faces.

Monday. It was Monday. Of course. Yesterday her daughters and their families had come over for Sunday dinner. Yesterday. So today was Monday. Definitely. With relief, Britta stopped in mid-stride. It felt like a small victory. At least she knew what day it was.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she sat down at one end of the sofa. The Josef Frank upholstery was nice and familiar. She and Herman had bought the fabric together. Or rather, she’d chosen it and he had agreed with her choice. Anything to make her happy. He would have gladly accepted an orange sofa with green spots if that was what she wanted. Herman, yes … Where was he? She started picking at the sofa’s floral pattern uneasily. She did know where he was. She really did. In her mind she pictured his lips moving as he explained where he was going. She even remembered that he’d repeated it several times. But just as she’d suddenly forgotten what day it was, that little scrap of information now slipped away too, baffling her, taunting her. She gripped the armrest in frustration. She ought to be able to remember, if only she concentrated hard enough.

A feeling of panic overtook her. Where was Herman? Was he going to be away for long? He hadn’t gone off on a trip, had he? Leaving her here? Maybe even leaving her for good? Was that what his lips had said in the vague memory that had crossed her mind? She needed to make sure that wasn’t the case. She had to go look and make sure his things were still here. Britta sprang from the sofa and dashed upstairs. Panic pounded in her ears like a tidal wave. What exactly had Herman said? A glance in the wardrobe reassured her. All his things were there: jackets, sweaters, shirts. Everything was there. But she still didn’t know where he was.

Britta threw herself on to the bed, curled up like a little child, and wept. Inside her brain, things kept on disappearing. Second by second, minute by minute, the hard-disk of her life was being erased. And there was nothing she could do about it.

‘Hi! That was quite a walk the two of you took. You’ve been gone a long time.’ Erica came to greet Patrik and Maja, who gave her mother a sloppy kiss.

‘Uh-huh. Shouldn’t you be working?’ Patrik avoided looking Erica in the eye.

‘Yes, well …’ Erica sighed. ‘I’m having trouble getting started. I sit and stare at the screen, eating chocolates. If this keeps up, I’ll weigh fourteen stone by the time the book is finished.’ She helped Patrik take off Maja’s outer garments. ‘I couldn’t resist having a look at Mamma’s diaries.’

‘Anything interesting?’ asked Patrik, relieved that he wasn’t going to have to answer any more questions about why they’d taken such a long walk.

‘Not really. It’s mostly about day-to-day life. But I only read a few pages. I need to take it in small doses.’

Erica went out to the kitchen and, as if to change the subject, she said, ‘Shall we have some tea?’

‘That’d be great,’ said Patrik, hanging up his coat and Maja’s. He followed Erica out to the kitchen, watching her as she busied herself putting on the water and getting out the teabags and cups. They could hear Maja playing with her toys in the living room. After a few minutes Erica set two steaming cups of tea on the kitchen table, and they sat down across from each other.

‘Okay, let’s hear it,’ she said, studying Patrik. She knew him so well. The expression in his eyes under the shock of hair, the nervous drumming of his fingers; there was something he either didn’t want to tell her or didn’t dare.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, trying to look innocent.

‘Don’t you go blinking those baby blue eyes at me. What aren’t you telling me?’ She took a sip of the hot tea and waited with amusement for him to stop squirming and get to the point.

‘Well …’

‘Yes?’ said Erica helpfully, acknowledging that part of her was taking a sadistic delight in his obvious discomfort.

‘Well, something happened while Maja and I were out on our walk.’

‘Really? You’re both back home in one piece, so what could it be?’

‘Er …’ Patrik sipped his tea to buy some time as he pondered how best to explain. ‘We were walking over towards Lersten’s mill, and then Martin and the team turned up to check out a call they’d received.’ He gave Erica a cautious look. She raised one eyebrow and waited for him to go on.

‘Someone had phoned in a report of a dead body in a house on the road to Hamburgsund, so they were heading over there to take a look.’

‘I see. But you’re on paternity leave, so that really has nothing to do with you.’ Suddenly she gave a start, her cup halfway to her lips. ‘You don’t mean that you …’ She stared at him in disbelief.

‘Yes,’ said Patrik, his voice sounding a bit shrill and his eyes fixed on the table.

‘Don’t tell me you took Maja to a place where a dead body was found?’ Her gaze was riveted on him.

‘Um, yes, but Martin watched her while I went inside to have a look. He took her over to see the flower bed.’ He ventured a slightly conciliatory smile but received only an icy glare in return.

‘Inside to have a look?’ The ice cubes in her voice were clinking mercilessly. ‘You’re on paternity leave. The key words here are “on leave”, not to mention “paternity”! How hard can it be to say “I’m not working right now”?’

‘I just went inside to take a look,’ said Patrik lamely, but he knew Erica was right. He was on leave. Paternity leave. His colleagues could run the show. And he shouldn’t have taken Maja anywhere near a crime scene.

At that instant he realized that there was one more detail Erica didn’t know about. He felt a nervous twitch on his face as he swallowed hard and added:

‘It turned out to be murder, by the way.’

‘Murder!’ Erica’s voice rose to falsetto. ‘It’s not enough that you take Maja to a house where a body was discovered – it turns out to be homicide.’ She shook her head. The rest of the words she wanted to say seemed to have stuck in her throat.

‘I won’t do it ever again.’ Patrik threw out his hands. ‘The team will just have to solve the case on their own. I’m on leave until January, and they know that. I’m going to devote myself one hundred per cent to Maja. Word of honour!’

‘You better mean that,’ snarled Erica. She was so angry that she wanted to lean across the table and shake him. Then curiosity overcame her:

‘Where did it happen? Have they found out who the victim was?’

‘I’ve no idea. It was a big white house a few hundred metres down the road on the left-hand side, on the first turnoff to the right after the mill.’

Erica gave him a strange look. Then she said, ‘A big white house with grey trim?’

Patrik thought for a moment and then nodded. ‘Yes, I think that’s right. It said “Frankel” on the letter box.’

‘I know who lives there. Axel and Erik Frankel. You know, the Erik Frankel that I went to see about the Nazi medal.’

Patrik looked at her, dumbstruck. How could he have forgotten that? Frankel wasn’t exactly the most common name in Sweden.

From the living room they could hear Maja babbling happily.

It was late afternoon by the time they finally made it back to the station. Torbjörn Ruud, head of the crime tech division, and his team had arrived, made a thorough job of it, and then left. The body had also been removed and was on its way to the forensics lab where it would undergo every imaginable and unimaginable examination.

‘Well, that was a hell of a Monday,’ said Mellberg with a sigh as Gösta parked the car.

‘Sure was,’ said Gösta, never one to waste words.

As they entered the station, Mellberg barely had time to register something approaching at high speed before a shaggy form jumped on him and he felt a wet tongue licking his face.

‘Hey! Hey! Cut that out!’ Mellberg pushed the dog away in disgust. Ears drooping, the disappointed animal shambled over to Annika, knowing that at least there he would be welcome.

Gösta fought the urge to laugh as Mellberg wiped off the dog spit with the back of his hand and fussily restored his comb-over to its rightful place, muttering irritably all the while.

Shoulders heaving with mirth, Gösta was turning into his office when the cry of ‘Ernst! Ernst! Come here, now!’ stopped him in his tracks. It had been quite a while since his colleague Ernst Lundgren had been given the axe, and there’d been no talk of him returning to the force.

Gösta stepped out into the corridor and saw Mellberg, his face beet red, pointing at something on the floor. ‘Ernst, what’s this?’

As the dog slunk into view, head hanging with shame, Mellberg bellowed for Annika, who arrived a moment later.

‘Oops, it looks like we’ve had a little accident here.’ She cast a sympathetic look at the dog, who gratefully moved closer to her.

‘A little accident? Ernst has shit on my floor.’

‘What’s going on?’ asked Martin, entering with Paula close behind.

Gösta, who by this time had completely lost the battle to contain his laughter, could barely get out the words: ‘Ernst … has shit on the floor.’

Martin looked from the little pile on Mellberg’s floor to the dog pressed close to Annika’s leg. ‘Don’t tell me you named the dog Ernst?’ he said, and then he too dissolved into giggles.

‘All right, all right,’ said Mellberg. ‘Get this cleaned up, Annika, so we can all go back to work.’ He stomped over to his desk and sat down. The dog looked from Annika to Bertil then, having decided that the worst was over, wagged his tail and went over to join his new master.

The others exchanged surprised glances, wondering what the dog saw in Bertil Mellberg that they had apparently missed.

Erica couldn’t stop thinking about Erik Frankel. She hadn’t known him well, but he and his brother Axel had always been an integral part of Fjällbacka. ‘The doctor’s sons’, they were called, even though it had been fifty years since their father had practised medicine in Fjällbacka, and forty years since he’d died.

She recalled her visit to the house which had once belonged to their parents and had become home to both brothers. It had been her only visit. The elderly bachelors shared a fascination with Germany and Nazism, each in his own way. Erik, a former history teacher, collected artefacts from the Nazi era. Axel, the older brother, had some sort of association with the Simon Wiesenthal Centre, if Erica remembered correctly, and she also had a vague memory that he’d run into some sort of trouble during the war.

She’d phoned Erik and told him what she’d found, describing the medal to him. She’d asked if he could help by researching its origins and maybe explain how it might have ended up among her mother’s possessions. His immediate reaction had been silence. She’d said ‘Hello’ several times, thinking he might have hung up on her. Finally, he told her in a strange-sounding voice to bring over the medal and he’d have a look at it. His long silence and odd tone of voice had bothered her, but she hadn’t mentioned anything about it to Patrik. She convinced herself that she must have been imagining things. And when she went over to the brothers’ house, she didn’t notice anything odd. Erik received her politely and ushered her into the library. With a guarded expression, he had taken the medal from her and studied it carefully. Then he asked whether he might keep it for a while in order to do some research. Erica had agreed.

He’d gone on to show her his collection. With a mixture of dread and interest, she’d looked at the artefacts so intimately connected with that dark, evil period. She couldn’t resist asking why someone like him, who was so opposed to everything that Nazism had stood for, would collect and surround himself with things that would remind him of that awful time. Erik had hesitated before answering. He’d picked up a cap bearing the SS emblem and held it in his hand as he formulated his reply.

‘I don’t trust people to remember,’ he’d said at last. ‘Without having things that we can see and touch, we so easily forget what we don’t want to remember. I collect things that will serve as reminders. And part of me probably also wants to keep these things out of the hands of people who might see them with other eyes. Regard them with admiration.’

Erica had nodded. She sort of understood, and yet she didn’t. Then they shook hands and she’d left.

And now he was dead. Murdered. Maybe not long after her visit. According to what Patrik had told her, Erik had been sitting in the house, dead, all summer long.

Again she thought about the strange tone of Erik’s voice when she’d told him about the medal. She turned to Patrik, who was sitting next to her on the sofa, channel surfing.

‘Do you know if the medal is still there?’

Patrik gave her a surprised look. ‘I have no idea. It didn’t even occur to me. But there weren’t any indications that he’d been murdered as a result of a robbery. Besides, who would be interested in an old Nazi medal? They’re not exactly rare. It seems to me there are quite a lot of them …’

‘Yes, I know, but …’ Erica said. Something was still bothering her. ‘Could you ring your colleagues tomorrow and ask them to check on the medal?’

‘I don’t know about that,’ said Patrik. ‘I think they’ve got better things to do than spend time looking for an old medal. We can talk to Erik’s brother later on. Ask him to find it for us. It’s probably still in the house somewhere.’

‘Oh right, Axel. Where is he? Why didn’t he discover his brother’s body?’

Patrik shrugged. ‘I’m on paternity leave, remember? You’ll have to ring Mellberg yourself and ask him.’

‘Ha ha, very funny,’ said Erica. But she still felt uneasy. ‘Don’t you think it’s odd that Axel didn’t find him?’

‘Sure, but didn’t you say he was off somewhere when you went over to their house?’

‘Well, yes. Erik told me that his brother was abroad. But that was back in June.’

‘Why are you worrying about this?’ Patrik shifted his gaze back to the TV. Home at Last was just about to start.

‘I don’t really know,’ Erica said, staring blankly at the TV screen. She couldn’t explain even to herself why this feeling of anxiety had come over her. But she could still remember Erik’s silence on the phone and hear that slight catch in his voice when he asked her to bring over the medal. He had reacted to something. Something having to do with the medal.

She tried to put it from her mind and focus on Martin Timell’s woodcarvings instead.

‘Grandpa, you should have seen it. That black bastard went to cut in line and – Pow! One kick and he keeled over like a tree. Then I kicked him in the nuts and he lay there whimpering for at least fifteen minutes.’

‘And what good did it do, Per? Aside from the fact that you could be charged with assault and sent off to a juvenile institution, you’re not going to win any sympathy that way. You’ll just have everybody ganging up on you even more. And instead of helping our cause, it’s going to end with you mobilizing even more opposition.’ Frans stared at his grandson. Sometimes he didn’t know how he was going to curb all the teenage hormones surging through the boy. And he knew so little. In spite of his tough demeanour, with his army camouflage trousers, heavy boots, and shaved head, he was nothing more than a fearful child of fifteen. He knew nothing. He had no idea how the world operated. He didn’t know how to channel the destructive impulses so that they could be used like a spear point to pierce right through the structure of society.

The boy hung his head in shame as he sat next to him on the stairs. Frans knew that his harsh words had got through. His grandson was always trying to impress him. But he would be doing Per a disservice if he didn’t show him how the world worked. The world was cold and hard and relentless, and only the strongest would emerge victorious.

At the same time, he loved the boy and wanted to protect him from evil. Frans put his arm around his grandson’s shoulders, struck by how bony they were. Per had inherited his own physique. Tall and gangly, with narrow shoulders. All the gym workouts in the world wouldn’t change that.

‘You just need to stop and think,’ said Frans, his voice gentler now. ‘Think before you act. Use words instead of your fists. Violence is not the first tool you should use. It’s the last.’ He tightened his hold on the boy’s shoulders. For a second Per leaned against him, as he’d done when he was a child. Then he remembered that he was trying to be a man. That the most important thing in the world was that he make his grandfather proud. Per sat up straight.

‘I know, Grandpa. I just got so angry when he pushed in. Because that’s what they always do. They push their way in everywhere. They think they own the world, that they own Sweden. It made me so … furious.’

‘I know,’ said Frans, removing his arm from around his grandson’s shoulders and patting the boy’s knee instead. ‘But please stop and think. You’ll be no use to me if you end up in prison.’