It was important that they didn’t get carried away. They had to plan it, weigh up every alternative carefully. It wouldn’t be any problem to kill her. But Gosta still believed that they could persuade her to take that step herself. They simply had to open her eyes, force her to recognise her situation and fully understand what she had become. Then she would see that there was only one thing left for her to do.
No, the problem was how to dispose of the body and hide the evidence.
If he had a boat, he could dump her in the sea. But then again, how would he get to the boat with a black rubbish bag over his shoulder without anyone noticing? There were houses all the way down. You’d be hard pushed to find a stretch of coastline that was more guarded. And no matter which rough track he took through the woods, there was always the risk that some outdoor type would be there looking for mushrooms, and would see the car and remember the registration number.
Burying the body would be heavy work and the chances of it being discovered were considerable.
Why try to hide the body? Surely the best thing would be if it was found as quickly as possible. Then Mike could bury her in the ground and finish grieving. Be free of other people’s suspicion. Even if that meant a lot of help and therapy when Mike discovered that Ylva had been alive the whole time she’d been missing.
The best thing would be for them to dump the body in a ditch alongside some deserted road. He could choose the time rather than the place. At night, when no other headlights were in sight. Then he would quickly toss the body and drive on. It would have to be done in conjunction with some bona fide trip, something that would provide him with an alibi in the unlikely event that he ever came under suspicion.
The body would be wrapped in black bin liners so that no traces were left in the car. They would have to scrub under her nails and he wouldn’t be able to come inside her in the final days. The latter would mean a bit of a sacrifice on his part.
While Gosta was out dumping the body, Marianne would stay at home and clear the cellar. Every surface would need to be cleaned and the furniture replaced with a suitable drum kit and electric guitar.
They would have to draw up a plan and decide on the date.
Gosta wondered how it would feel to be without Ylva. A relief, obviously, when it was over. But also quite sad.
Avenging Annika had been their driving force for nearly three years. The fight for justice and retribution had overshadowed almost everything. The goal had been clear and life had, in a way, been simple.
Soon it would be over, leaving a vacuum that opened up like an abyss.
The possibility of going down to fuck Ylva whenever he pleased had given him a feeling of richness. An extra dimension.
Soon that would also be history.
Was wine too little? Surely not? The bottle had after all cost well over a hundred kronor. Maybe Gosta had hoped for whisky. Mike had considered it, but felt uncertain about giving spirits as it wasn’t Christmas.
Pah. He pushed the thought to one side. It had nothing to do with not being pleased. The reason that Gosta had seemed somewhat reserved was that he preferred to keep a distance, socially, given that Mike was still his patient.
That’s all it was. Nothing more.
The day that Mike finished his treatment, they could go out for dinner, the four of them.
Gosta’s wife seemed nice. She and Nour would definitely get on. Who wouldn’t get on with Nour? Mike got butterflies even thinking about her. It almost made him giggle.
And like a sign from God, she came through the door. Sanna rushed out into the hall to greet her. Mike stood back, embarrassed by his childish joy. It couldn’t get any better. He waited his turn and kissed her on the mouth. He took her coat and hung it up on a hook.
‘Smells good,’ she said.
‘Mince sauce,’ Mike said. ‘Red.’
Nour didn’t get it.
‘Difficult to explain. It’s very sophisticated.’
Sanna disappeared into the sitting room, where Mike was less than delighted to discover that she had emptied her vast collection of Lego on to the fluffy carpet. No matter how much he hoovered and beat that carpet, Mike knew that there would always be pieces left in it somewhere.
He poured a glass of red wine and handed it to Nour.
‘Thank you,’ she said, taking the glass.
Mike looked at her and smiled.
Nour didn’t know why.
‘I just feel so happy,’ he said.
51
Gosta took his time, went through his entire repertoire. Ylva’s moaning and writhing verged on the limits of credible, but Gosta had no objections. Afterwards, he lay beside her for a long while, breathing heavily, his chest sweaty.
‘You certainly can do this,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’
‘Are you happy?’
‘I’m happy,’ Ylva said.
‘Mike and Sanna are happy too,’ Gosta said.
Ylva didn’t answer. Neither he nor Marianne ever mentioned her family by accident, there was always a reason.
‘He’s together with Nour now, as you know. I’ve never seen him happier. Sanna, too, for that matter. No one is indispensable, least of all you.’
Ylva said nothing.
‘It would certainly cause a scene if you were to ring on the doorbell now.’
‘I’m happy here,’ Ylva said.
‘You are? Yes, you’ve got it good, considering why you’re here.’
‘With you,’ Ylva said. ‘I’m happy with you.’
Gosta laughed, sat up on the edge of the bed and started to pull on his underpants.
‘Marianne says that I’ve had my fun.’
‘Is she jealous?’
Gosta stared at her. She lowered her eyes.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘We are not a couple, you and I. You’re just a cheap whore and you should be grateful that I come here and fuck you at all. I do it out of kindness, do you understand?’
‘I know, thank you. I’m sorry.’
‘Your thousand and one nights are coming to an end, it’s all getting about routine. No matter how I twist and turn you, you still only have three holes. I’ll be back tomorrow.
And I want to be surprised. Do you understand? If you don’t manage that, then we’ll have to think of something.’
Just as Ylva thought, Mike’s spontaneous visit and bottle of wine had made Gosta and Marianne nervous. It was an intrusion into their private life, a sign that the outside world was moving in, that the trap was set. And so they had to get rid of Ylva. She had become a burden. Without her, they had nothing to hide; without her, they could open their home and welcome people in.
