pointing at Louise Maardh’s computer on the desk in front of them.
“No. No, they were using the computer over in the rectory. I was invited there for afternoon coffee. Elsa was feeling quite well at that time and asked me to come. When I arrived, Jacob was also there. Elsa said something about them having spent the whole morning with the computer, and then Sten said that he and Jacob had something big going on. I asked if they were on the trail of the Satanists, and Sten nodded.”
“He nodded? He didn’t say anything?”
“No. But he and Jacob exchanged a look, as if they were. . conspirators.”
Conspirators. Father and son were on the trail of Satanists, who had burned down the chapel. According to Rut Borjesson, the rector had been obsessed with the idea. Despite their caution, had they gotten too close? Even if the murder method was not typical of Satanism, the symbol on the computer screens and the upside-down crucifix pointed to a connection. As Sten and Jacob Schyttelius had hunted the church arsonists via the computer, it might explain why the computers had been marked with the pentagrams.
“Were there many people who knew that they were seeking the Satanists via the Internet?” Irene continued.
Rut Borjesson shook her head. “I don’t think so. Right after the fire, he spoke of catching the guilty ones and punishing them severely. But as time went on, there were more important things to take care of. I was actually quite surprised when he said that he was still looking for them.”
“And was it a complete coincidence that you found out about it?”
“Yes.”
There was a short silence while Irene reflected. Finally, she decided to move on to something else and let go of the Satanic angle for a while.
“What kind of a person was Sten Schyttelius?” she asked.
The deaconess’s sorrowful expression vanished. Her face lit up. “Deeply pious, good-hearted. He hadn’t had an easy time through the years with Elsa’s illness, but he never complained. He took care of the kids and did his job. They’ve always had help with the cleaning, but otherwise he did most things himself. He enjoyed mealtimes and was a good cook and a wine connoisseur. He was an avid hunter as well. Each year, he took a break from work for the moose hunt.”
“And Jacob was like his father?”
“Yes. Except maybe not quite as good at cooking, but he was also a hunter. Very nice and friendly. The last few years, both of them became heavily involved with Sweden’s Ecumenical Children’s Villages. Mostly it was Sten, but last fall Jacob also started working actively.”
“What would they do?”
A blush suffused Rut Borjesson’s pale cheeks as she described the absorbing work of father and son Schyttelius. “They traveled with aid groups to war-and catastrophe-stricken countries in Africa to help needy children. Various Christian organizations in Sweden have set up several villages for orphaned children, about ten in all. For the most part, all work is done by volunteers, and both Sten and Jacob helped wholeheartedly. The expense of the trip and room and board was paid by the parishes, but otherwise they weren’t compensated.”
“Did Rebecka also help?”
“No. She has lived in London for the last two years, where she works as a computer consultant, or whatever it’s called. I don’t think she’s active in the church.”
“Was Elsa Schyttelius involved in the children’s villages?”
“No. Elsa had more than enough to occupy her with her illness.”
Irene saw that Rut was exhausted and decided to end the questioning. She followed her to the door and asked the cleaning woman, Rosa Marques, to come in.
ROSA WAS short and rather plump. Her dark hair was gathered in a thick braid hanging down her back. Her face was pretty, dominated by a wide mouth which looked like it broke into a smile readily. Right now, neither her mouth nor her dark brown eyes were smiling; rather, they mirrored grave sorrow.
She seated herself on the edge of the chair with her hands folded in her lap. Irene started with personal information. It turned out that Rosa was thirty-eight years old, married, and had four children. She had not had close contact with the Schytteliuses during the four years she had cleaned their house once a week. She had never met their children, because they were both adults and had moved away from home before she started working at the rectory. She spontaneously mentioned Elsa Schyttelius’s periods of illness, during which Mrs. Schyttelius had locked herself in the bedroom and Rosa wasn’t allowed to clean in there.
“Do you clean the whole house every week?” Irene asked.
“No. I only clean the large fancy rooms on the first floor every week. When it’s needed, I do some of the rooms upstairs.”
“How do you know when it’s needed?”
“The rector tells me.”
“Have you ever cleaned the office upstairs?”
Rosa raised her dark eyebrows in surprise. “The office is on the first floor.”
“Sten Schyttelius has a smaller room with a computer on the second floor. It’s located behind the billiard room.”
Now Rosa frowned. Finally, she shook her head decidedly and said, “No. I’ve never cleaned in that room. The door is always locked.”
Over a period of four years, Rosa Marques had never cleaned the computer room. Irene recalled that there was a gun cabinet in the room. It would be interesting to know what kind of weapons had been kept there. Is that why the room had always been locked? But if the cabinet had been kept locked, according to law, then locking the door to the room itself would have been unnecessary.
“Do you remember if anything was hanging on the wall in the bedroom?”
“The crucifix. The beautiful cross,” Rosa said.
“There was a cross hanging on the wall?”
“Yes. I always look at it when I’m cleaning the room. It’s so beautiful. Mrs. Schyttelius says that it’s very old. From Italy.”
“How big is it?” Irene asked, mostly out of curiosity.
“About like this,” said Rosa, indicating about a foot and a half in height and a few inches less in width. “And Jesus Christ is in silver,” she added.
This was the antique crucifix from Italy that had been turned upside down during or after the murders. Was this completely irrelevant, or was it important? Irene was unsure. But maybe that was the murderer’s intention.
THE FIRST of the Maardhs whom Irene interviewed was Louise, the church accountant. She sat down in the armchair across from Irene and smiled faintly. “I can hardly remember ever sitting in this chair.”
“It doesn’t matter to me which chair I sit in. Do you want to trade?” Irene asked.
“No, no! I just meant that sometimes you become a little blind to your own surroundings. This chair is actually really comfortable.”
Louise Maardh leaned back and crossed one slender leg over the other. Irene observed her. Her expression was serious and her gaze sorrowful, but she wasn’t nearly as distraught as the deaconess had been. Her black pinstriped suit, worn with a white silk blouse, was formal and appropriate. A necklace of large pearls shimmered at her throat.
She was actually quite attractive. And she had become the wife of a pastor in a country parish. Amazing.
Here, too, Irene commenced with general personal questions. Louise and Bengt Maardh had two sons, twenty-five and twenty years old. The family had lived in Kullahult for almost ten years and Bengt had been the assistant rector in Ledkulla parish the entire time.
“And have you worked as the church accountant the whole time?” Irene asked.
“Yes. Earlier, I had handled the finances at a small company in the town where we used to live. But when we came here, this position was open and Sten asked if I was interested. I thought that I could always try it out and, well, I’m still here.”
