Sven-Erik Stalnacke repeats his question.
“Did you feel grateful about the letters? Bearing in mind that you weren’t exactly the best of friends, it was generous of her not to tell anybody about the letters.”
“Yes,” Stefan ground out after a while.
“Hmm,” said Sven-Erik. Anna-Maria’s back moved away from the door.
“One more thing,” said Sven-Erik. “The wolf foundation’s books. Are they kept here?”
Stefan Wikstrom’s irises moved uneasily across the whites of his eyes like goldfish in a bowl.
“What?”
“The books for the wolf foundation. Are they here?”
“Yes.”
“We’d like to have a look at them.”
“Don’t you need some sort of warrant from the prosecutor to do that?”
Anna-Maria and Sven-Erik glanced at each other. Sven-Erik stood up.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I just need to go to the bathroom. Where…?”
“To the left, out through the office door, then immediately left again.”
Sven-Erik disappeared.
Anna-Maria took out the drawing of the hanged Mildred.
“Somebody sent this to Mildred Nilsson. Have you seen it before?”
Stefan Wikstrom took it from her. His hand was steady.
“No,” he said.
He handed the drawing back to her.
“You haven’t received anything similar?”
“No.”
“And you’ve no idea who might have sent it? She never mentioned it?”
“Mildred and I didn’t confide in each other.”
“Maybe you could make me a list of people you think she might have talked to. I mean people who worked in the church or here in the parish hall.”
Anna-Maria watched him as he was writing. She hoped Sven-Erik would do what he had to do out there as quickly as possible.
“Have you got children?” she asked.
“Yes. Three boys.”
“What age is the oldest?”
“Fifteen.”
“What does he look like? Is he like you?”
Stefan Wikstrom’s voice suddenly acquired a slight drawl.
“Impossible to tell. You can’t tell what he looks like underneath all the hair dye and makeup. He’s… going through a phase.”
He looked up and smiled. Anna-Maria realized the fatherly smile, the deliberate pause and the word “phase” were something he used as a matter of routine when he talked about his son.
Stefan Wikstrom’s smile suddenly disappeared.
“Why are you asking about Benjamin?” he asked.
Anna-Maria took the list out of his hand.
“Thank you for your help,” she said, and left.
Sven-Erik Stalnacke went straight from Stefan Wikstrom’s room into the parish office. There were three women in there. One of them was watering the plants on the windowsills, the other two were sitting at their computers. Sven-Erik went over to one of them and introduced himself. She was about the same age as him, around sixty, shiny nose and a pleasant expression.
“We’d like to have a look at the books for the wolf foundation,” he said.
“Okay.”
She went over to one of the bookshelves and came back with a folder that had next to nothing in it. Sven-Erik looked at her quizzically. Accounts ought to consist of great heaps of paper, invoices, columns and calculations.
“Is that all there is?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes,” she said. “There aren’t that many transactions, it’s mostly credits.”
“I’ll just borrow this for a while.”
She smiled.
“Keep it, it’s only printouts and photocopies. I’ll get some new ones off the computer.”
“Er,” said Sven-Erik, lowering his voice. “I’d like to ask you about something, could we just…”
He nodded in the direction of the empty stairwell.
The woman followed him out.
“There’s an invoice to do with training costs,” said Sven-Erik. “Quite a large sum…”
“Yes,” said the woman. “I know the one you mean.”
She thought for a little while, as if she were gathering herself.
“It wasn’t right,” she said. “Mildred was very angry. Stefan and his family went on holiday to the USA at the end of May on the foundation’s money.”
“How come?”
“He and Mildred and Bertil were all independent signatories for the foundation, so there was no problem. He probably thought nobody would notice, or he might have done it to annoy her, how should I know.”
“What happened?”
The woman looked at him.
“Nothing,” she said. “I suppose they drew a line under it. And Mildred said he’d visited Yellowstone where there’s a wolf project going on, so as far as I know there wasn’t any trouble about it.”
Sven-Erik thanked her and she went back to her computer. He wondered whether he should go back to Stefan’s office and ask about the trip. But there was no hurry; they could talk to him about it the following day. He instinctively felt he needed to think it over for a while. And in the meantime there was no point in frightening people.
“His face didn’t change at all,” Anna-Maria said to Sven-Erik in the car. “When I showed Stefan Wikstrom the drawing, his expression didn’t alter. Either he has no feelings, or he was too busy hiding what he felt. You know how it is, you’re so hell-bent on appearing calm that you forget you still ought to pretend to react in some way.”
Sven-Erik mumbled something.
“He should at least have been slightly interested,” said Anna-Maria. “Had a look at it. That’s how I’d have reacted. Got upset, if it was somebody I cared about. Or slightly disturbed if I didn’t know her, or actually disliked her. I’d have looked at it for a while.”
He didn’t actually answer my last question, she thought later. When I asked if he had any idea who might have sent it? He just said he and Mildred didn’t confide in each other.
Stefan Wikstrom went out into the office. He felt slightly queasy. He ought to go home and have dinner.
The girls in the office looked at him curiously.
“They were just asking routine questions about Mildred,” he said.
They nodded, but he could see they were still wondering. What an expression. Routine questions.
“Did they talk to you?” he asked.
