pale, handsome dandy was in the centre of the scene and immediately drew the eye of the viewer. The same mystery and enigma hovered over the dandy as over Dardel himself. How young he is, Erik thought as he sat there. So fragile and attractive. Those closed eyes with the thick dark lashes against the pale cheek. The slender body in the semi-reclining position on the floor with his legs apart, almost erotic in the midst of tragedy. The dandy had one hand pressed to his heart, as if it hurt. And judging by the pallor of his face, the life force had already left his body.
Erik was fascinated by the figure’s appearance: the sensitive face, the elegant clothing, one hand coquettishly stretched out on the floor with the long, slender fingers holding a hand-mirror. What did it mean? Was he fleeing from his own image? Was he weary of his life, his alcoholism and his homosexuality? Was he trying to escape his decadent life, just as Erik wanted to do but didn’t dare?
Erik’s gaze took in the three loving women surrounding the dandy, their soft figures, their tenderness. One of them was about to place a blanket over the slender, elegant young man, as if putting a piano cover over an exquisite instrument that was no longer played.
There was another man in the scene as well. Standing in the background, partially turned away from the small group. The young man seemed desperate with grief as he pressed a handkerchief to one eye, like a monocle. There was something theatrical about him, with his dark eyes and red lips. He was also dressed like a dandy in vibrant colours: purple jacket, orange shirt and a red-and-green tie. Erik was positive that the man in the background represented Dardel’s most important lover, Rolf de Mare. Dardel had carried on many homosexual affairs, although he’d had relationships with women at the same time.
Erik’s eyes moved back to the dandy’s hand over his heart. Was the pain purely physical? Was he killed by a heart attack? Dardel had suffered from heart disease after a serious case of scarlet fever when he was a child, but was it really that simple? Maybe the painting was about a broken heart from a love affair. Did the artist want to show that he was on his way to leaving Rolf de Mare and his own homosexuality behind in order to enter into marriage with a woman? When Dardel painted the work in the summer of 1918 he was secretly engaged to Nita Wallenberg, the daughter of a cabinet minister. Was that why the man in the background was grieving?
The painting moved him on so many levels; it touched his innermost soul and reflected the tragedy of his own life. If only we could have met, he sometimes thought in despair. If only we had lived in the same era. How he would have loved Dardel. How many times had he wondered what the artist had in mind when he created that painting?
Maybe he can see me right now, thought Erik, glancing automatically up at the ceiling. Then his eyes returned to the painting.
The way the three women had gathered around the dying dandy reminded him of Christ’s death, with the dandy as Jesus. Erik thought that the woman placing the blanket over him resembled an angel, with the green palm leaves like wings behind her. Another of the women could have been Mary, with her dress the strong blue traditionally used for her. And the younger girl holding the pillow under his head might symbolize Mary Magdalene with her red hair and red and purple clothing. The man in the background had the features of Christ’s favourite apostle, John. Sure, why not?
There was no mistaking the sense of tragedy, no matter what it might symbolize. It might have something to do with the war. When Dardel painted the scene, Europe was in the grip of the First World War. Sweden had remained neutral, but Finland had just entered the conflict, which was getting closer to Sweden and having a tremendous impact on the country. Not even in the wealthy salons frequented by Nils Dardel could anyone continue to close their eyes to the horrors being inflicted on people all around them. Maybe the artist wanted to portray the changes taking place in society during that time. The luxuries and amusements of the exclusive salons enjoyed by him and his friends must have begun to seem absurd — the self-absorbed dandy had become conscious of what was happening around him.
Erik thought that Dardel was an idealist, but a complicated and multilayered man, in many ways a tragic person who wanted to flee from himself. He did so through alcohol, but also through art.
Exactly like Erik.
40
Knutas and Kihlgard spent the rest of Saturday preoccupied with the question of whether Egon Wallin might have been homosexual.
Knutas had rung Monika Wallin to ask her about the matter, but she rejected the idea. Not because there was any passion between them any more; she simply had a hard time believing that her husband could have been gay. During the many years of their marriage she had never noticed any such tendency in him.
But Kihlgard talked to the two women who worked at the art gallery and got an entirely different response. They had both suspected that Egon Wallin was interested in men.
Finally Kihlgard started from a different angle. He wanted to find out if any of the men who attended the gallery opening and also stayed at the Wisby Hotel on the night of the murder were homosexual. He came up with two names. Hugo Malmberg, one of the owners of the art gallery in which Egon Wallin planned to invest, and Mattis Kalvalis.
Kihlgard knocked on Knutas’s door and found him absorbed in his own work. He told the superintendent what he had discovered.
‘Interesting,’ said Knutas. ‘Kalvalis and Malmberg. So Egon Wallin may have been on his way to meet one of them.’
‘Or why not both?’ suggested Kihlgard, fluttering his lashes. ‘Maybe they were having a menage a trois!’
‘Oh, come on,’ said Knutas. ‘Let’s not get carried away. Who do you think is the most likely?’
‘Malmberg is closer in age. Kalvalis is at least twenty years younger than Wallin. Although I don’t suppose that really makes any difference.’
‘No, but Wallin was going to be Hugo Malmberg’s business partner,’ said Knutas. ‘And he was planning to move to Stockholm. It’s also possible that Malmberg could be dealing in stolen artwork. Maybe they were both mixed up in it together.’
‘I’ve checked out Malmberg,’ said Kihlgard. ‘He doesn’t have a police record, and his professional life is spotless. I also talked to him on the phone. He flatly denies having had a relationship with Egon Wallin, and he said he didn’t think Wallin was gay. He claims he would have noticed if he was.’
‘So what about Mattis Kalvalis? Have you talked to him?’
‘Yes, and his reaction seemed genuine. He burst out laughing when I asked if they’d had a homosexual relationship. “That old guy?” were his exact words. “Not on your life!” On the other hand, Mattis was convinced that Wallin was gay. He said he gave off that kind of vibe, even though Wallin had never said anything overt.’
Kihlgard looked at his watch. ‘Well, I’ve got to run. I have a dinner date,’ he said with delight.
‘Really? With whom?’
‘I’m not telling.’ Kihlgard gave him a wink, laughed heartily, and left the room.
When Knutas was alone, he began filling his pipe again.
As far as Wallin’s involvement with stolen paintings was concerned, they’d hit a brick wall and at the moment couldn’t seem to find out anything more. The search of his Stockholm flat had produced absolutely nothing. The hard drives of his computers were missing. Wallin’s book-keeping and records of his bank accounts were all immaculate. There was nothing to indicate any sort of irregularity. Monika Wallin had done her work perfectly.
Knutas was feeling extremely frustrated about the fact that they had no idea how to proceed in terms of Wallin’s art galleries. They had checked out his prospective business partners in Stockholm but again had found nothing of interest.
He began making another careful study of the guest list for the gallery opening. He gave a start when he noticed the name of Erik Mattson from Bukowski’s Auction House on the list. He had not received a personal invitation; instead, a general invitation had been sent to the auction house. The firm had sent two representatives, and one of them was Erik Mattson. How strange, thought Knutas. Mattson had valued the stolen paintings found in Egon Wallin’s home, but he hadn’t said a word about attending the opening when Knutas talked to him on the phone.
