could think of only one thing, and that was to get out, which she managed to do, and without suffering any burns. She breathed in a lot of smoke, but apparently she’ll be released from hospital later today.’
‘How is she doing?’ asked Wittberg.
‘She’s upset and in shock. She didn’t manage to save any of her belongings, and she lost a lot of possessions that had sentimental value for her. She’s also scared. She says that she saw someone on the property a few hours before the fire started.’
‘Someone who didn’t want to be seen?’
‘Exactly. The techs are out at the cabin now, although it’ll be a while before they’re able to make a more thorough search. But they’ve already phoned to say that they found a petrol can and some rags, so we have to assume that it was arson.’
‘Are there any witnesses?’ asked Smittenberg.
‘No, none so far, except for the farmer who called the police. And Veronika’s cabin was the only one in the area that was occupied, at least as far as we know.’
‘I’m going out there as soon as the meeting is over,’ said Erik Sohlman. ‘It’s quite a big piece of land. It might be possible to find evidence scattered around, if it hasn’t been destroyed by the firefighting efforts.’
For a moment no one spoke.
‘OK,’ Jacobsson said then as she looked at her colleagues seated around the table. ‘Shall we focus our efforts on the theory that Veronika Hammar is the sole intended victim? That Viktor Algard died by mistake?’
‘And we stop working on any aspects that only have connections with Algard, right?’ Wittberg added. ‘Including the assault at the club and the conference centre?’
‘Yes, at least for now,’ Knutas agreed. ‘We need to concentrate on finding the person who seems to have some motive for harming Veronika Hammar.’
‘What about the wife?’ asked Wittberg. ‘Elisabeth Algard. How should we deal with her?’
‘She’s still a person of interest, of course,’ Jacobsson replied. ‘She could very well be a prime suspect, trying to get rid of her rival.’
‘Sure,’ said Knutas. ‘Let’s bring her in for another interview, right after the meeting.’ He turned to Jacobsson. ‘Have you found out anything new about Veronika Hammar?’
‘Not really, although we already know quite a lot about her,’ said Jacobsson, leafing through her notes. ‘As we found out before, she’s been divorced for many years. Her ex-husband died in a car accident twenty years ago. They were already divorced by then. She has four grown children. Two of them live here on Gotland, and two of them live in Stockholm. She’s friends with one of her neighbours, and she has two sisters, one on Gotland and one in Stockholm, whom she sees once in a while. She has a few colleagues who are also personal friends.’
‘OK, we need to interview everyone in Veronika’s family and social circle. Including neighbours and artist friends. She probably belongs to some sort of art society or association. Also the people who live in the summer- house area in Holmhallar. We may find an important lead out there. I’m planning to go and see Sten Bergstrom. He lives right nearby, so I want to talk to him again. As far as her children are concerned, we need to interview them as soon as possible.’
JOHAN WAS WOKEN by someone shaking him. He blinked at the light, and at first he had no idea where he was. Then he remembered. Last night at the Solo Club.
Afterwards he’d gone back to the office and crashed on the sofa. He was staring up at a face black with soot. It took him a second before he recognized who it was.
‘Wake up. I’ve been ringing and ringing your mobile. You’d probably just go on snoozing even if the sky was falling.’
‘Calm down,’ he groaned.
He sat up, yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He had a terrible taste in his mouth. Then he stared in surprise at Pia.
‘Have you seen what you look like?’
‘Some people have been working while you’ve been lying here dreaming. Did you go out on the town last night? Or to some party?’
‘I wish. No, I was at the Solo Club, taking care of drunk little girls. What’s going on?’
Pia’s face was as black as the eyeliner she used. Her hair stuck out even more than usual, and her clothes were wrinkled and covered with black specks. The streaks on her neck matched her black mascara.
‘A cabin burned down out near Holmhallar.’
‘And?’
‘It was arson, and a woman was injured. I thought we could at least get some pictures for the wire service. I was awake when the call came in, and I happened to be down by Sudret, so I managed to take pictures while the cabin was still burning, plus I interviewed the fire chief. Then I waited for the crime techs to arrive and got one of them to confirm that they’d found a petrol can on the property along with several rags. Unfortunately, I missed the ambulance that came for the injured woman.’
‘Do you know how serious her injuries are?’
‘The fire chief thought she was just suffering from minor smoke inhalation. I called the hospital, but they wouldn’t tell me anything, of course. And by the way, it turned out to be a lucky break that I went out there.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘The cabin doesn’t belong to just anybody, let me tell you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Veronika Hammar was living there. You know – the artist who does those sheep paintings that they sell at Stora Torget? Sheep out in the pasture, back-lit sheep, sheep on the beach…’
‘Oh, right. Sure, I know those paintings.’
‘Well, she’s the one who was injured. And do you know who she was having an affair with?’
‘No.’
‘Viktor Algard. She’s the secret mistress.’
Johan slowly put down his coffee cup.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘How sure?’
‘Absolutely positive. I have a reliable source.’
‘We need two sources. Independent of each other.’
‘I don’t know whether that’s really necessary in this case.’ Pia had a sly look on her face.
‘Why not?’
‘My source is very close to the individual in question. I got the information from Andreas. You know – the sheep farmer.’
‘So?’
‘His last name is Hammar.’
Johan stared at his colleague, dumbfounded.
‘You’re dating Veronika Hammar’s son?’
‘Your powers of deduction are impressive.’
Johan turned on his computer and read the wire service news. All of the newspapers had printed pictures of the fire on the front page. Nowhere did it say that the cabin belonged to Veronika Hammar or that there was any connection between the fire and the murder of Viktor Algard.
‘But if the cabin belonged to Veronika and she was his secret girlfriend, then it sounds like the fire could have been attempted murder,’ said Johan. ‘Which means that the person who killed Algard is now after Veronika Hammar.’
‘Very smart, Sherlock. Now you get it.’
Pia turned to her computer to upload the pictures.
VERONIKA HAMMAR HAD A private room at the far end of the corridor. The ward nurse had warned Knutas that the patient was exhausted and would probably be kept in hospital another day for observation. He gently knocked on the door before entering the room. He gave a start when he caught sight of the woman lying in the bed. Veronika looked as if she had aged ten years since he last saw her. She wore no make-up, her hair was uncombed, and she had on a white hospital gown that was partly visible above the yellow blanket. She seemed to have shrunk
