gratin. And dessert was a nougat panna cotta with raspberries marinated in elderberry juice. All typical Gotland fare, elevated to a sophisticated level. He shouted encouragement to the chefs, who were sweating over the stoves, before he returned to the bar. He noted with satisfaction that the glasses were being rapidly refilled. It was important not to be stingy with the booze; the guests needed to be warmed up as quickly as possible. Linen tablecloths had been placed on the tables and the waitresses, all dressed in white, were lighting the candles in the silver candelabras. It looked as though it was going to be a perfect evening.
The lobby was crowded with guests and, judging by the laughter and chatter, they were already in a festive mood.
A short distance away stood his lover, carrying on an intense conversation with two of the island’s foremost artists. Her fiery red dress and platinum-blond hair made her stand out among the other guests. Almost queenlike, if it weren’t for her exuberant spirit. She laughed loudly and waved her arms about to underscore her words as she apparently regaled the artists with one of her countless anecdotes. Both men stood very close to her, their expressions rapturous.
Algard chuckled and gave her an amorous glance as he hurried past.
Their relationship had begun two months ago. It happened at a gallery opening that he had arranged in town. She was strolling about, looking at the paintings, and they had struck up a conversation. They got on so well that they left the event together. They took a walk along the seafront and ended the evening by having dinner. By the time they parted, late that night, he was in love.
So far no one knew of their relationship. They had chosen to wait to make their love public. Visby was such a small town that gossip was rampant, and his divorce from Elisabeth was not yet final. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than necessary. Elisabeth was so weak. Fragile, both physically and psychologically.
Nothing like his lover.
DETECTIVE SUPERINTENDENT KNUTAS didn’t particularly care for this type of event. The small talk and overblown friendliness felt horribly insincere and rarely involved a single sensible conversation at any point in the evening. His wife Lina had persuaded him to attend. Knutas had been head of the Gotland criminal police for close to twenty years and his position carried certain obligations. There were some events that he simply couldn’t avoid, and the dedication of the new conference centre was an important occasion for the island. Besides, Lina thought it was fun to mix with the crowds. In Knutas’s eyes, his wife was a social genius. She knew how to chat easily with anyone she happened to meet, always giving them her full attention. She could start up a meaningful conversation with everyone, from the lowly civil servant who worked in the municipal administration offices to the country’s most famous pop singer. Knutas had no idea how she did it.
This evening Lina wore a loose-fitting grass-green dress with embroidered silk flowers. Her red, waist-length tresses hung loose over her shoulders, giving her the look of a wood nymph. She was energetically gesticulating, waving her pale, freckled arms about as she sat across from him at the long banquet table. He couldn’t help smiling.
For once he’d been lucky with the seating arrangements. On his right sat Erika Smittenberg, the charming wife of the chief prosecutor. She was a ballad singer from Ljugarn who wrote her own songs, which she often performed at rural community centres and small pubs all over the island. Knutas had always been intrigued by the Smittenbergs; they were so different from each other that it was almost comical. Prosecutor Birger Smittenberg was tall, lanky and pleasant in an unobtrusive way, but bone-dry and proper in all situations. His wife was petite and plump with a boisterous laugh that made the glasses on the table vibrate and caused people to turn their heads in surprise to stare in her direction. Knutas thoroughly enjoyed her company and they talked about all sorts of subjects – but not about his job. He appreciated her discretion. One topic to which they devoted a good deal of attention was golf, since it was one of Knutas’s chief interests. Gotland, with its wide-open spaces and mild climate, was perfectly suited to the game. Erika told him hilarious stories about her struggles when she first took up the sport the previous year.
Spring had arrived and the lawns had turned green. The sun was putting in an appearance more and more often, warming both the ground and their frozen winter souls. He really should go out to Kronholmen, his favourite golf course, one of these days. It had been a long time since he last played. Maybe I’ll go there tomorrow, he thought. If only the wind would stop blowing. He was hoping to take the kids along. As they got older, he felt that he was losing contact with them. The twins would soon be seventeen and they were in secondary school. It was alarming how time was rushing past. He couldn’t keep up.
Suddenly he felt Erika give him a playful poke in the side.
‘What kind of dinner companion are you, anyway?’ she pouted, feigning indignation, but the next second she broke into a smile. ‘What are you daydreaming about?’
‘Sorry,’ he said. He gave her a smile and then raised his glass. ‘All that talk about golf made me yearn for Kronholmen.
THE DANCE FLOOR quickly filled as the band began playing a ‘slow’ tune. Everyone had finished their coffee and the bar was open. The party was going well, Viktor Algard decided, now that they’d made it through the most difficult part of the evening. Serving dinner for over five hundred people was always a juggling act, but it had gone off without a hitch. Now the guests were leaving their assigned seats at the tables to seek out other company. Some headed for the dance floor; others settled themselves on the sectional sofas arranged along the walls.
Algard exchanged a few words with the waiters, making sure that everything would continue to run smoothly. After that, it was time for him to take a well-deserved break. He tried to catch a glimpse of his lover in the crowd, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. He would have liked to share a private moment with her. Provided they could do so without drawing attention, that is. But she’d probably been invited to dance by the man seated next to her at the table. Viktor glanced at his watch. Eleven forty-five. The dinner had lasted longer than expected, which was actually a good sign. Everyone at the banquet tables had seemed in high spirits right from the beginning, with plenty to talk about. The surprise event of the evening was scheduled for midnight, so he might as well wait until the show began. He took a sip of his mineral water, allowing his thoughts to drift. His wife’s face popped up in his mind. She wore an accusatory expression, as if she knew. Not that it would really be a surprise. Their marriage had lost its spark long ago. They continued to live side by side, but their paths seldom crossed any more. They lived in a large, isolated manor house out in the country near Hamra in Sudret, the southern part of the island. Elisabeth spent all her time at her loom out in the barn, which had been turned into a weaving studio. It was as if she didn’t really need him any more. He in turn devoted himself to his job and his extensive social network. He’d acquired many friends over the years, but Elisabeth didn’t like most of them. She was a loner who detested events such as this. The migraine that she’d developed in the afternoon was probably just a pretext to get out of attending the dedication celebration. It was an effective way of avoiding anything she didn’t want to deal with, although no one could question her motives when she lay in bed in a darkened room with a towel over her face. To be honest, he was actually grateful for her absence. It meant that he could slip away with his mistress after the event and stay overnight at his flat in town.
When he’d fallen in love with such shattering effect, the deficiencies of his marriage had been brought into even sharper focus. This dream woman had come whirling into his life and turned his whole world upside down. He was completely infatuated with her. Only now did he realize the full extent of what he’d been missing. Passion. Lust. Interest. The sheer pleasure of being in another person’s company. Companionship. Togetherness.
The children had left home long ago to settle on the mainland. They had their own lives now. He was longing to be free. And not have to sneak around any more.
His thoughts kept getting interrupted by people who wanted to talk to him, thank him for such a splendid party, or simply shake his hand. He smiled at everyone, happy to see that they were having a good time.
Then the music stopped, to be replaced by a drum roll. The lights were dimmed and a spotlight lit up the stage. Everyone turned their attention in that direction. It was time for the evening’s surprise.
Wild applause broke out when Afro-Dite, the popular vocal group, appeared on stage. The three beautiful and glamorous women, Kayo Shekoni, Gladys del Pilar and Blossom Tainton, sang like soul goddesses, but they were also full of warmth, humour and charm that enchanted their fans. There aren’t many artists in Sweden with such star quality, thought Viktor, pleased that he’d managed to book them for the evening. He’d made the choice based on the fact that five years earlier the group had captured the hearts of the Swedish people when they won the Eurovision Song Contest. Suddenly he felt someone taking him by the arm.
‘Hi. How’s it going?’
She looked happy and glowing, her face a bit shiny. Her eyes were sparkling.
