they follow her and the words crack from her mouth like the end of a whip.
‘He never knew, Kalle, that he was the boy’s father. But Karl, I had him called that so that I’d never forget where he came from.’
You, Malin thinks, you never let him forget. In your own way.
Her eyes full of coldness now. ‘What do you think it was like for me to have the boy here on my own? The sailor’s boy, he’s the sailor’s boy, they swallowed that, the chocolate hags round here.’
‘How did Karl find out?’ Zeke asks. ‘Did the boys and Blackie treat him badly?’
‘He came and sat out here with some posh necklace for my seventieth birthday. He thought he was really something, so I told him how it was, that your father, he was Cornerhouse-Kalle, that’s what I said to him. The computer expert! Pah! He was standing right where you are now.’
The old woman backs away. Raises a hand towards Malin and Zeke, waving, as if to say, Shoo, shoo, shoo.
‘If you say anything about this to the boys I’ll haunt you till you wish you’d never been born.’
She isn’t afraid of threatening the police, Malin notes. Ghosts that have to be fended off at all costs. And you’re still the one steering developments, Rakel. What does that mean?
Through her kitchen window Rakel Murvall watches the two police officers go back to their car. Sees them stepping in their own footprints. She feels her anger subside, her aggression become serious reflection. Then she goes out into the hall and picks up the phone on the little table.
59
Britta Svedlund has stood up, her eyes fixed on Joakim Svensson and Jimmy Kalmvik, who are just entering her office at Ljungsbro school. The room is vibrating with her anger and there is a thick smell of coffee and nicotine.
She must smoke in here sometimes, Malin thought when she came in a few minutes before.
When the boys first caught sight of Malin and Zeke they backed away, wanting to run, but the head’s sharp stare held them where they were, is still holding them.
Earlier, when they were waiting for Joakim and Jimmy to come to her office from their English lesson, Britta Svedlund explained the philosophy behind her teaching.
‘You have to understand that it’s impossible to help everyone. I’ve always focused on the ones, not necessarily the most talented, but the ones who really want to learn. You can make pupils want more than they imagine, but some are hopeless and I’ve stopped wasting energy on them.’
You haven’t given up on Joakim and Jimmy yet, Malin thinks as she watches Britta Svedlund take command of the boys with her look. Even though they’re leaving this spring? Even though they’re old enough to take responsibility for what they do?
‘Sit down,’ Britta says, and the two boys sink on to a couple of chairs, cowering under her voice. ‘I’ve tried my best to protect you. And look what you’ve done.’
Malin moves so the boys can see her eyes. ‘Look at me,’ she says in an ice-cold voice. ‘Enough lies. We know you fired those shots through the window of Bengt Andersson’s flat.’
‘We haven’t—’
Britta Svedlund’s voice from the other side of the table: ‘HAVE SOME MANNERS,’ and then Jimmy Kalmvik starts talking, his voice shrill, anxious, as if it has been dragged out of adolescence and shifted back to a more innocent age.
‘Yes, we used that rifle to shoot at his flat. But he wasn’t at home. We took the rifle and cycled there and then we fired the shots. It was dark and he wasn’t at home. I swear. We scarpered at once. It was really creepy.’
‘It’s true,’ Joakim Svensson says calmly. ‘And we’ve got nothing to do with all that mad shit that happened to Ball-Bengt afterwards.’
‘And when did you fire the shots?’ Malin asks.
‘Just before Christmas, a Thursday.’
‘Will we go to prison now? We’re only fifteen.’
Britta Svedlund shakes her head wearily.
‘That depends on whether you co-operate or not,’ Zeke says. ‘Tell us anything you think could be of interest to us, and I mean everything.’
‘But we don’t know anything else.’
‘We don’t know shit.’
‘So you didn’t torment Bengt after that? Things didn’t get out of hand one evening? Well?’
‘Tell us what happened,’ Malin says. ‘We need to know.’
‘But we didn’t do anything else.’
‘And the night between Wednesday and Thursday the week before last? Before Ball-Bengt was found?’
‘We’ve already told you, we were watching
‘You can go,’ Zeke says, and Malin nods in agreement.
‘Does that mean we’re free?’ Jimmy Kalmvik’s voice, naive.
