it?”
Jacobsson looked at him skeptically. “Is that what you really believe?”
“Why not? We shouldn’t lock ourselves into Kingsley. That’s crazy.” Kihlgard ran his hand through his thick mane, which was sprinkled with gray.
“So what should we do?” asked Jacobsson.
“How about having some dessert?”
Anders steered the little fishing boat out to sea. It was always so peaceful standing at the helm. Leif was preparing the nets on deck. He came from a family of fishermen and was quite experienced. When he was ready, he came to stand next to Anders in the wheelhouse.
“There’s not much salmon on this side of the island, so we’ll have to fish for cod instead.”
“That’s too bad. It would have been great to have fresh salmon for dinner.”
“We can always try, by trolling. I’ll toss out the lines behind the boat and let them trail in our wake. Now that it’s so cold, the fish are right below the surface. If we’re in luck, we’ll catch a salmon or a steelhead.”
They passed Tofta Beach, and Anders was amazed at how deserted it looked. The emptiness of the rippling sand dunes was a huge change from the hordes of swimmers in the summertime. Tofta was by far the most popular beach on the island, especially among young people. In the summer the beach towels were spread out so close together that you could hardly see the sand.
Leif gazed across the sea.
“Can you see the two Karlso islands over there? It’s incredible how clear they are.”
Both islands stuck up from the water, the big one behind the little one. Anders had been out there so many times. His whole family went out to Big Karlso every May to see the colonies of guillemets. That’s when the unusual auks hatched their young.
Glints of sunlight kept coming through the clouds, and even though the wind was picking up, they decided to stay out at sea while the nets were in the water. Leif unpacked some sandwiches and a thermos of hot chocolate, which they enjoyed on deck. It was hard to believe that Christmas Eve was just a couple of days away.
Anders was tired, so he went into the cabin to lie down for a while. He fell asleep to the sound of the waves lapping against the hull. After an hour he woke up to find Leif nudging him.
“We have to pull up the nets. It’s getting windy.”
Anders was surprised to see how quickly the weather had changed. Gusts of wind met them as they came up on deck, and the sky was now dark. The boat was pitching back and forth as they pulled up the nets. It was a nice haul-they counted nine cod. The trolling lines brought in two salmon. Not exactly spectacular specimens, but still not bad.
“Now we’d better see about getting back home as fast as possible,” said Leif. “I was listening to the marine report while you slept. There’s a storm on the way.”
It would take them an hour to get back to Gnisvard. Darkness fell, and as they passed Tofta, the first squall set in. The boat listed abruptly. Anders, who was on his way up the companionway to the wheelhouse, fell headlong through the door.
“Damn it!” he shouted as he hit his head on the table.
It wasn’t far now to land, but the boat was being tossed right and left. The fish were in buckets on deck, and when the first wave struck, Leif yelled, “We need to bring in the fish or they’ll all end up back in the sea. Be careful when you open the door.”
Leif kept his eyes fixed on the black water, battling the swells as best he could. Anders reached for the door handle and pushed open the door. One bucket had turned over, and the fish lay scattered on deck. The next wave crashed over the gunwale and washed some of the catch overboard.
Anders gathered up the remaining fish and threw them back into the bucket. God, this is nuts, he thought. Here I am practically risking my life just to save a few lousy fish. He could see Leif’s tense face through the window.
Anders stumbled his way into the wheelhouse. His clothes were soaked through.
“Fucking hell. How’s it going?” he asked Leif.
“Okay. We’re close to shore, so it’s going to be all right. But this weather is damn awful.”
Suddenly the lights of the Gnisvard dock appeared in the dark. Anders breathed a sigh of relief. They were only a hundred yards away.
When they once again had solid ground under their feet, Knutas realized how scared he had actually been. His legs could barely hold him up. They secured the boat and hurried back to the house.
“What an ordeal,” Anders gasped. “Right now all I want is to get out of these clothes and take a hot shower.”
“You do that,” said Leif. “I’ll make a fire in the meantime.”
Up in his room, Anders discovered that his cell phone was gone. Damn, it must have been washed overboard when he was out on deck. Now Jacobsson wouldn’t be able to reach him. He would have to ask Leif if he could borrow his cell. He also wanted to call Lina and tell her about their dramatic adventure. There was no phone in the house, in spite of all the other modern conveniences.
They warmed themselves up with some Irish coffee as they made dinner.
Leif prepared the salmon with an expert hand. He started by slitting open the fish with a sharp knife. Then he removed the guts and pulled the backbone away from the filets. Anders felt his mouth watering as he watched Leif brush the filets with oil, sprinkle them with herbs, and place them on a bed of coarse salt. Then he put the fish in the oven to bake.
When it was ready they hungrily launched into the salmon, washing it down with strongbeer. They talked about the day’s drama. What an adventure. It could just as easily have ended in disaster. Outside the window the wind was blowing harder, and more snow was on the way.
After a number of shots of whiskey with their coffee, they were both feeling fairly intoxicated. They listened to some music and talked about trivial things, and by the time Anders went upstairs to bed, it was two in the morning. Leif had passed out on the sofa.
Anders fell into bed and should have fallen asleep instantly. Instead he was wide awake, thinking about the investigation, about Kingsley. According to Jacobsson’s text message, the suspect was supposed to return home later today. The case that had consumed all his thoughts, day and night, for the past month would most likely be solved just in time for Christmas Eve. He was looking forward to enjoying Christmas dinner with his family and relatives without having to think about the murder. He suddenly felt a great longing for Lina and the kids. He had an urge to get in the car and drive straight home.
He realized that he wasn’t going to be able to sleep. It was fruitless to try, so he got dressed and tiptoed down the stairs. The sofa in the living room was empty, so Leif must have gone to bed even though he hadn’t heard him.
Anders sat down on one of the leather armchairs and started to fill his pipe. He lit it and inhaled deeply. He liked smoking when he was alone. He seemed to enjoy it more.
A painting caught his attention. It was of a woman with a dog resting on her lap. The woman was young and slender and wore a sleeveless red dress. Her eyes were closed, and her head was tilted toward one shoulder, as if she were asleep. Her lips were the same color red as her dress. The dog was looking out at the viewer. It was a beautiful painting.
Knutas leaned forward to see who the artist was. He got up from the armchair and ran his finger along the gilded frame. Moved his eyes to the wallpaper, which was a pale yellow with a slightly brighter border. Next to the painting stood a chair with a high back, richly decorated, and two turned posts with knobs. The details were merging into a puzzle, and slowly he realized where he had seen this chair before. It was without a doubt the distinctive chair back that was visible in Dahlstrom’s photographs. Norrby, who was interested in antiques, had explained that it was an English Baroque chair.
At first he was overcome with utter confusion. How could Dahlstrom have taken pictures of Fanny in Leif’s house? Had he and some companion exploited her in the summer house without Leif’s knowledge? Did it happen while Dahlstrom was building the sauna?
His thoughts moved on and in his mind everything began coalescing to create an appalling pattern. Leif owned a horse at the stable and he had hired Dahlstrom. His appearance matched the description. It could just as well have been Leif in the photos. His friend of twenty years. An electric shock wave of ice-cold instinct shot
