looking after the house.’
He stopped and looked at Eilert, waiting to hear what he would say. But Svea began first.
‘Yes, I do declare. That something like that would happen here. And that my Eilert would discover the body. No one has talked about anything else the past few weeks.’
Her cheeks were glowing with excitement, and Patrik had to restrain himself from offering a sharp comment. Instead he gave a sly smile and said, ‘If you’ll forgive me, I wonder if it would be possible for me and your husband to speak undisturbed for a while. It’s standard protocol in the police that we only take testimony when persons not directly concerned are not present.’
A pure lie, but he saw to his satisfaction that Svea, despite her great annoyance at being excluded from the centre of all the excitement, accepted his authority in the matter and reluctantly got up from the table. Patrik was rewarded at once with an appreciative and amused glance from Eilert, who could hardly conceal his glee at seeing Svea so ignominiously robbed of her gossip tidbits.
When she had reluctantly dragged herself out of the kitchen, Patrik went on, ‘Now where were we? Yes, you were going to start by telling me about the week before, when you were at Alexandra Wijkner’s house.’
‘Why is that important?’
‘I’m not sure just yet. But it could be important. So try to remember as many details as possible.’
Eilert thought for a moment, using the time to stuff his pipe carefully from a packet of tobacco marked with three anchors. He didn’t speak until he had lit the pipe and puffed a couple of times.
‘Now let’s see. I found her on a Friday. I always used to go there on Fridays to check on everything before she arrived in the evening. So the last time I was there was the Friday before that. No, actually, we had to go to our youngest son’s fortieth birthday party on Friday, so I went there on Thursday evening instead.’
‘How was the house then? Did you notice anything unusual?’ Patrik had a hard time concealing his eagerness.
‘Anything unusual?’ Eilert puffed slowly on his pipe as he thought. ‘No, everything was fine. I did a round through the house and the cellar, but everything looked good. I locked the house carefully when I left, as always. She’d given me my own key.’
Patrik felt compelled to ask straight out the question that was gnawing inside him. ‘And the furnace? Was it working? Was there heat in the house?’
‘Oh yes, certainly. There was nothing wrong with the furnace then. It must have gone out some time after I was there. I don’t understand what importance that has. When the furnace went out?’ Eilert temporarily took the pipe out of his mouth.
‘To be quite honest, I don’t know if it is important. But thank you for your help. It might be important.’
‘Just out of curiosity, why couldn’t you have asked me that on the phone?’
Patrik smiled. ‘I suppose I’m a bit old-fashioned. I don’t think I get as much out of phoning as by talking with someone face to face. Sometimes I wonder if I should have been born a hundred years ago instead, before all these modern inventions.’
‘Nonsense, boy. Don’t believe all that rubbish that it was better in the old days. Being cold, poor, and working from eight o’clock till sunset is nothing to envy. No, I use all the modern conveniences I can. I even have a computer, hooked up to the Internet. I’ll bet you wouldn’t believe that of an old man like me.’ He pointed knowingly at Patrik with his pipe.
‘I can’t say that I’m surprised, actually. Well, now I must be going.’
‘I hope I was of some use, so you didn’t have to drive here for nothing.’
‘Not at all, I got exactly the information I wanted. And I got to taste your wife’s excellent pastries too.’
Eilert gave a reluctant snort. ‘Yes, she certainly can bake, I can say that for her.’ Then he sank into a silence that seemed to encompass fifty years of hardship.
Svea, who had undoubtedly been standing with her ear to the door, could stand it no longer and came into the room. ‘So-o-o, did you find out everything you needed?’
‘Yes, thank you. Your husband has been quite accommodating. And I’d like to thank you for the coffee and the excellent pastries.’
‘Think nothing of it. I’m glad you liked them. So Eilert, if you’ll start clearing the table I’ll show the constable to the door.’
Obediently Eilert began collecting the coffee cups and plates as Svea accompanied Patrik to the front door under a constant stream of words.
‘Close the door hard after you. I can’t stand a draught.’
Patrik heaved a sigh of relief when the door closed behind him. What a frightful woman. But he had got the confirmation he wanted. Now he was quite sure that he knew who had murdered Alex Wijkner.
At Anders’s funeral the weather was not as nice as for Alex’s burial. The wind tore at exposed skin and made everyone’s cheeks blossom with the cold. Patrik had dressed as warmly as he could, but it wasn’t enough against the relentless chill. He shivered as he stood by the open grave when the coffin was slowly lowered down. The ceremony itself had been short and dreary. Only a few people had come to the church, and Patrik had sat discreetly on the pew in the back. Only Vera was sitting up in front.
He had been dubious as to whether he should follow along to the burial site, but decided at the last second that it was the least he could do for Anders. Vera hadn’t changed expression the whole time he watched her, but he didn’t think her grief was any less for it. She was simply a person who didn’t like to show her feelings in public.
Patrik could understand and sympathize with that. In a way he admired her. She was such a strong woman.
After the burial ceremony was over, the few guests in attendance went their separate ways. With her head bowed, Vera walked slowly up the gravel path towards the church. The cold wind was whipping hard, and she had tied her scarf like a kerchief over her head. For a second Patrik hesitated. After an internal struggle that increased as the distance grew between him and Vera, he made up his mind and hurried to catch up with her.
‘Lovely ceremony.’
She smiled bitterly. ‘You know as well as I do that Anders’s funeral was just as pathetic as most of his life. But thanks anyway. It was nice of you to say so.’
Vera’s voice bore the mark of many years of fatigue. ‘I probably should be grateful, really. Not so many years ago he wouldn’t have even been allowed to be buried in the public churchyard. He would have been given a spot off to the side, outside church-sanctified ground, a spot specially reserved for suicides. There are still many of the older folks who think that suicides don’t go to heaven.’
She fell silent for a moment. Patrik waited for her to continue.
‘Will there be any legal consequences from what I did to cover up Anders’s suicide?’
‘No, I can guarantee that there will not. It was regrettable that you did what you did, and certainly there are laws about it, but no, I don’t think there will be any consequences.’
They passed the parish house and walked slowly in the direction of Vera’s home, which was only a couple of hundred yards from the church. Patrik had worried all night about how he should proceed, and he had reached a cruel but he hoped successful solution.
Nonchalantly, he said, ‘What I think is most tragic in this whole story with Anders’s and Alex’s death is that a child also had to die.’
Vera turned vehemently towards him. She stopped and grabbed hold of his sleeve.
‘What child? What are you talking about?’
Patrik felt thankful that, against all odds, a lid had been kept on that particular piece of information.
‘Alexandra’s child. She was pregnant when she was murdered. In her third month.’
‘Her husband…’
Vera stammered, but Patrik continued with forced coldness. ‘Her husband had nothing to do with it. They had clearly not had any relations in several years. No, the father seems to be someone she used to meet here in Fjallbacka.’
Vera was holding so hard onto his sleeve that her knuckles turned white.
‘Good Lord. Good, good Lord.’
‘Yes, it’s certainly cruel. To kill an unborn child. According to the autopsy report it was apparently a little boy.’
