‘How did you do that?’
‘I don’t think they were dissatisfied with his efforts, and there was certainly no reason for complaints. He was highly professional. However, there were periods when he was booked up, which meant there was room for other event planners. I filled that gap. Plus my prices were lower, so more and more people chose my company instead, and then they became steady clients, returning whenever they needed my services. It’s rather like when people change hairdressers. If their own hairdresser doesn’t have time, they try somebody new. If they’re happy with the results, they don’t see any reason to go back to their former hairdresser. People are remarkably disloyal when it comes right down to it,’ said Bergstrom pensively as he stirred sugar into his coffee. He never took his eyes off the officers, merely shifting his attention back and forth between Jacobsson and Knutas, with an interested expression on his face.
‘What sort of contact did you and Viktor have with each other?’
‘Nothing personal. Only by phone and letter. He accused me of stealing his clients. He ranted and carried on over the phone, and I’m sorry to say this, but he was extremely rude. I did my best to explain that the people in question had come to me on their own initiative. If certain clients preferred my services, there wasn’t much I could do about it. But Viktor refused to listen. He was truly unreasonable, as a matter of fact. I must say that I thought his behaviour was uncalled for. He still had more clients than he could realistically handle.’
Jacobsson had to hide a smile. Sten Bergstrom seemed so out of place in this tumbledown house in the middle of nowhere. He had a bombastic way of speaking and carried himself almost like a nobleman. His surname ought to be something more aristocratic, such as Knorring or Silfversparre, she thought.
‘So what did you do?’
‘Nothing. I just let him scream and shout and contact various authorities while I tended to my business. And he couldn’t touch me, which no doubt made the poor man even more frustrated.’
‘Why did your company go bankrupt?’
Sten Bergstrom’s face took on a distressed expression.
‘Unfortunately a few parties got out of hand. There was a lot of trouble with drunken guests and brawls. It tarnished my reputation, and people began talking behind my back. My clients fled and my revenue dropped dramatically. Finally it all went to hell. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out that Viktor was behind what happened. But I didn’t have the energy to pursue that theory. And besides, I’d lost any desire to go on since I no longer had the confidence and trust of my clients.’
Bergstrom suddenly looked as if he were in terrible pain.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to lie down,’ he said with a moan. ‘I can’t stay on my feet any longer. Is there anything else you’d like to know at the moment?’
He pressed his hand to his lower back and then, with an effort, got down on his knees. The dog began whimpering.
‘Would one of you be kind enough to bring over a chair?’
Jacobsson watched in astonishment as the elegant man lay down on his back on the floor and held up his legs. Knutas helped him to prop his feet on the chair so his legs were at a 90-degree angle to his body. Knutas knew exactly what was going on. Lina had suffered from intermittent back pain for years.
The dog eagerly licked his master’s face, clearly happy to have him down at his own level on the floor. Bergstrom didn’t share his enthusiasm. He ordered the dog away and the Afghan immediately retreated to his basket, curling up with a sigh of resignation.
‘Thank you so much for your time,’ said Knutas. ‘We’ll get back to you if there’s anything more.’
‘You’re welcome,’ said Bergstrom faintly. He closed his eyes. ‘Goodbye.’
As they left, closing the door behind them, the dog stared after them.
ALL OF TUESDAY passed with no progress in locating Veronika Hammar. By the time it was six thirty and Knutas realized that he’d been on the job for twelve hours straight, he gave up.
There was nothing more he could do, and besides, he’d promised to take care of dinner. Lina was again working the night shift at the hospital and wouldn’t be back until the early morning hours. He stopped on his way home to buy pizzas. The children had each requested a pizza topped with fillet of pork and Bearnaise sauce. He shuddered when he ordered the food. How could anyone come up with such a combination? Pretty soon they’ll be serving pizzas with shrimp and sweet-and-sour sauce, he thought. Or a Thai pizza with chicken and red curry. And why not a dessert pizza with saffron in the dough, topped with almonds and raisins?
As soon as he stepped inside, he could tell that something was wrong. The house was dark, with not a single light turned on.
‘Hello,’ he called from the hall. No answer. He set down the pizza boxes and went upstairs.
‘Hello,’ he called again. ‘Anybody home?’
He opened the door to Petra’s room. The only light came from a pair of thick scented candles on a tray on the nightstand. Several sticks of incense in a porcelain jar were spreading a heavy musk fragrance through the air. On the computer screen he saw flickering images of scantily clad teenagers against the Manhattan skyline, while incomprehensible hip hop music thudded through the room. His daughter was lying on the bed with her legs stretched up against the wall, her eyes on the ceiling as she talked on her mobile.
‘Shhh,’ she hushed her father, gesturing with annoyance for him to leave the room.
‘It’s time for dinner and-’
‘Shhh!’
Knutas closed the door. Feeling discouraged, he tried the next room. It was pitch black inside, but he could hear the crashing of hard rock music from his son’s iPod.
‘Hi,’ he said, switching on the ceiling light. ‘What are you doing?’
Nils quickly turned to face the wall, but not before Knutas saw that his eyes were red. It looked as if he’d been crying.
‘What’s wrong?’ He took a few steps towards the bed.
‘Nothing.’
‘But I can see that you’re upset about something.’ Cautiously he sat down on the edge of the bed. Nils had his back turned and pulled away until he was even closer to the wall. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, I said. Leave me alone. Get out of my room.’
‘But, Nils.’ Knutas gently touched his son’s head. ‘Won’t you tell me what’s going on?’
‘Cut it out.’ He pushed his father’s hand away. ‘Just leave me alone,’ he snarled, his voice cracking.
‘But I bought pizza for dinner.’
‘I’ll be down in a minute,’ said the boy, his tone now much less aggressive.
Feeling powerless, Knutas left the room. Pushed away again. Locked out. There was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t very well force Nils to open up to him if the boy didn’t want to. That sort of thing had to be based on trust.
Disappointed, Knutas went down to the kitchen and began setting the table. He was so respected and decisive at work, but his teenage children regarded him as a pitiful old man. He really had no clue how to deal with them. At the same time, he felt hurt and sad. Don’t they like me? he thought.
He heard the stairs creaking. Petra came into the kitchen. As if she sensed how he was feeling, she gave him a brief hug.
‘Sorry, Pappa. But I was on the phone, and it was a really sensitive conversation.’
‘Anything you want to tell me about?’ he asked cautiously, encouraged by the meagre gesture of affection that she’d shown him.
‘Alexander died.’
‘What did you say?’ Knutas felt an icy stab in the pit of his stomach. He stared at his daughter, uncomprehending.
Slowly it sank in that what she had said was true. All hope was gone. Then his brain began whirling like a centrifuge filled with questions. He immediately thought about Alexander’s mother, Ingrid, and his sister, Olivia.
‘I was talking to Olivia on the phone,’ said Petra, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘They just found out. She’s completely devastated. I promised to go over to see her after dinner.’
‘I didn’t know you were such good friends.’
‘We are now. After what happened over the past few weeks.’
