‘Did he say anything?’
‘No.’
‘Well then.’
Marianne got to her feet, annoyed, and started to load the dishwasher. Gosta carried on reading the newspaper without paying her much attention. She slammed the door shut in irritation. Gosta looked up.
‘We can’t carry on like this for ever,’ she said. ‘We’re almost done, there’s only Ylva left. We have to finish it and we have to do it now.’
48
Calle Collin paid the taxi driver, went to the gate and rang the bell. He looked up at the camera. The intercom crackled.
‘Come in,’ Jorgen said, and the lock clicked.
Calle pushed open the gate and made his way to the house. Jorgen had opened the front door before he even got there.
‘To what do I owe the honour?’
Calle looked at his old school friend intently.
‘Is the family home?’
‘Of course,’ Jorgen said.
‘Then I suggest we take a walk.’
Jorgen didn’t know why, but he nodded.
‘I’ll just get a jacket,’ he said.
As soon as they were through the gate, Calle grabbed hold of Jorgen’s collar and pushed him up against the well-trimmed hedge.
‘What the hell have you done? Have you killed them all?’
Jorgen looked shocked. He blinked rapidly and his lower lip trembled.
‘For Christ’s sake, let me go. What are you talking about?’
‘You’ve killed them,’ Calle yelled. ‘All of them.’
‘Who? What are you talking about?’
Jorgen was on the verge of tears. Calle held on to him.
‘Do you think I don’t realise? You’ve got so much money that you think you have the power to decide who lives and who dies. Who are you going to bump off next? Am I safe? Or maybe you want to kill me too?’
‘Shut up, Calle. I haven’t done anything. What are you going on about?’
Calle was shaking, his body so tense that he felt he would explode. Jorgen was gasping for air and crying openly, the snot running from his nose. Calle pushed him further back into the hedge.
‘I’ll go to the police, you can be bloody certain of that,’ he said. ‘I’m going to tell the police.’
‘I h-haven’t done anything,’ Jorgen stammered.
Calle pushed him away and started to walk. He’d gone no more than five metres when he stopped and turned back. He stretched out a hand and helped his friend to his feet and then hugged him, the tears streaming. They walked to the house arm in arm.
‘Are you playing
Calle laughed. ‘No, I’ve still got some standards.’
Jorgen’s wife pulled in her chin. ‘Unlike me, you mean?’
Jorgen kissed her carefully on the cheek.
‘Calle’s just jealous,’ he said.
They went upstairs and sat in the kitchen. Calle told Jorgen about his day in northwest Skane, and about Ylva having disappeared without a trace nearly eighteen months ago.
‘But she can’t just have vanished?’ Jorgen said.
‘Her husband must have killed her,’ his wife chipped in.
Calle shook his head.
‘If he was guilty, he wouldn’t have thrown me out. He would have welcomed anything that pointed the finger at someone else.’
Jorgen’s wife got up with a sigh.
‘You two sound like real numpties. There’s no connection between any of the dead people other than that they went to school together.’
‘The Gang of Four,’ Jorgen said.
His wife rapped him on the head.
‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘You’ve got Calle going. Now listen here, both of you. You can’t carry on like this. You need to get a hobby, have an affair or something.’
‘Yes, I’ll have to think of something to do,’ Calle said. ‘Because I won’t be getting any more work, that’s for sure.’
There was a knock and Ylva stood where she was visible with her hands on her head. The door opened. It was Marianne. Ylva knew it. Her window on the world showed that it was daytime, not much going on. Gosta was at work.
Marianne closed the door and came into the room. She had a plate with her.
‘There was some left over,’ she said.
Ylva took a step towards her.
‘Stay where you are,’ Marianne said, and held up her hand.
Ylva stood still.
‘Sit.’
Ylva obeyed.
Without taking her eyes off her face, Marianne scraped the leftovers from the plate on to the floor.
‘Do you think this is dignified?’ she asked.
Ylva didn’t answer.
‘You’re a dog. The question is, what kind of dog? The small, yapping kind, or the big, lumbering kind? Doesn’t really matter though, they all smell disgusting. I have to say, you’re costing us a lot of money. Electricity, food and I don’t know what. You’re not exactly worth the money. No, I reckon we’re getting to the end of the road. Don’t you agree?’
Ylva looked up at her, puzzled.
‘That’s a good girl, clever dog, you understand exactly what your mistress is saying. You should do what Annika did. Follow her example. It’s for the best. I mean, this isn’t life, is it? Not for you, not for anyone. And we both know that you don’t deserve any better, I think we can agree on that.’
Marianne gave a resigned sigh.
‘Think about it,’ she said.
She went back to the door, opened it, and turned round.
‘If the rope’s not enough, I can get some pills for you.’
She nodded at the food on the floor.
‘Go on, eat your food.’
