Erica nodded reluctantly as she lifted Maja out of the car.
‘Do you think we should drive over to my mother’s first, and ask her to watch Maja for a while? I mean, I know how you hate it when I take Maja into the station,’ Patrik teased, getting an exasperated look in reply.
‘Come on, you know I want to get this over with as soon as possible. And she doesn’t seem to have suffered any harm from working a shift the last time she was here,’ Erica told him with a wink.
‘Hi! I didn’t expect to see all of you here,’ said Annika, surprised, her face lighting up when Maja gave her a big smile.
‘We need to talk to Bertil,’ said Patrik. ‘Is he in?’
‘Yes, he’s in his office,’ said Annika, giving them an enquiring look. She let them in, and Patrik headed briskly for Mellberg’s office with Erica in tow, carrying Maja in her arms.
‘Hedstrom! What are you doing here? And I see you’ve brought the whole family along,’ said Mellberg, sounding grumpy as he stood up to say hello.
‘There’s something we need to talk to you about,’ said Patrik, sitting down on one of the visitor’s chairs without waiting for an invitation. Maja and Ernst had now caught sight of each other, to their mutual delight.
‘Is he used to being around children?’ asked Erica, hesitating to set her struggling daughter down on the floor.
‘How the hell should I know?’ said Mellberg, but then relented. ‘He’s the world’s nicest dog. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.’ His voice betrayed a certain pride, and Patrik raised one eyebrow in amusement. His boss seemed to have really fallen for that dog.
Still not entirely convinced, Erica set her daughter down next to Ernst, who enthusiastically began licking the little girl’s face. Maja reacted with a mixture of alarm and delight.
‘So, what is it you want?’ Mellberg stared at Patrik with some curiosity.
‘I want you to obtain permission to open a grave.’
Mellberg started coughing, as if something was stuck in his throat. His face turned redder and redder as he struggled to breathe.
‘Open a grave! Are you out of your mind, man!’ he finally managed to splutter. ‘Being on paternity leave must have affected your brain! Do you know how rare it is to get permission to open a grave? And I’ve already done it twice in the past few years. If I ask for another one, they’re going to certify me as insane and lock me up in the loony bin! And whose body are we going to exhume now, by the way?’
‘A Norwegian resistance fighter who disappeared in 1945,’ said Erica calmly as she squatted down next to Patrik and scratched Ernst’s ears.
‘What did you say?’ Mellberg stared at her open-mouthed, as if he thought he must have heard wrong.
Patiently Erica recounted everything that she’d learned about the four friends and the Norwegian who had come to Fjallbacka a year before the war ended. She explained that there was no trace of him after June 1945, and their efforts to track him down had got nowhere.
‘Couldn’t he have stayed in Sweden? Or gone back to Norway? Have you checked with the authorities in both countries?’ Mellberg looked extremely sceptical.
Erica got up from the floor and sat down on the other visitor’s chair. She stared at Mellberg, as if she hoped to make him take her seriously through sheer force of will. And then she told him what Herman had said to her. That Paul Heckel and Friedrich Huck should be able to tell them where Hans Olavsen was.
‘I thought the names seemed vaguely familiar, but I had no idea where I might have come across them. Until today. I went over to the cemetery to visit the graves of my parents and grandparents. And that’s when I saw it.’
‘Saw what?’ asked Mellberg, puzzled.
She waved her hand. ‘I’ll get to that, if you’ll allow me to.’
‘Sure, okay, go on,’ said Mellberg, who was starting to get interested, in spite of himself.
‘There’s a grave in the Fjallbacka cemetery that’s a little different. It’s from the First World War, and ten German soldiers are buried there – seven of them were identified and are listed by name, but three of them are unknown.’
‘You forgot to tell him about the scribbled note,’ said Patrik, who had resigned himself to taking a back seat while his wife explained things. A good man knows when it’s time to give in.
‘Oh, right. There’s one other piece to the puzzle.’ Erica told Mellberg about the page in Erik’s notebook that had caught her attention when she studied the photograph from the crime scene, and the fact that it said ‘
‘How did you happen to see photos from the crime scene?’ asked Mellberg angrily, glaring at Patrik.
‘We’ll discuss that later,’ said Patrik. ‘Please, just listen to what she has to say.’
Mellberg grumbled but acquiesced and indicated with a wave of his hand for Erica to continue.
‘Erik Frankel wrote those words on a notepad, over and over, and I found out what they mean. It’s an inscription on the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, or rather on the tomb of the unknown soldier. It means: “To the unknown soldier”.’
This still wasn’t making any lights go on in Mellberg’s head, so Erica continued:
‘That note stayed in the back of my mind. Here we have a Norwegian resistance fighter who disappears in 1945, and nobody knows where he went. We have Erik scribbling about an unknown soldier. And Britta talking about “old bones”, and then we have the names that Herman gave me. It was only when I walked past that grave in Fjallbacka cemetery that I suddenly realized why those names had seemed so familiar: they’re etched on the headstone.’ Erica paused to catch her breath.
Mellberg stared at her. ‘So Paul Heckel and Friedrich Huck are the names of two Germans from the First World War who are buried in a grave in Fjallbacka cemetery?’
‘That’s right,’ said Erica, pondering how she should go on with her story.
But Mellberg beat her to it. ‘So what you’re saying is…’
She took a deep breath and glanced at Patrik before she continued. ‘What I’m saying is, it’s very likely there’s an extra body in that grave. I think the Norwegian resistance fighter, Hans Olavsen, is buried there. And I’m not sure how it all fits together, but I’m convinced that’s the key to the murders of Erik and Britta.’
She fell silent. No one spoke. The only thing to be heard in Mellberg’s office was the sound of Maja and Ernst playing together.
After a moment Patrik said softly: ‘I know this sounds crazy. But I’ve discussed the whole thing with Erica, and I think there’s a lot to be said for her theory. I can’t offer any concrete proof, but all the clues we have seem to point that way. And there’s also a strong chance that Erica is right, and this is what’s behind the two murders. I don’t know how or why. But the first step is to establish whether there really is an extra body in the grave, and if so, how he died.’
Mellberg didn’t reply. He clasped his hands and sat in silence, thinking. Finally he gave a loud sigh.
‘Well, I must be out of my mind, but I think you might be right. There’s no guarantee that I’ll get permission. As I said, we have something of a track record with this type of thing, and the prosecutor is going to go through the roof. But I will try. That’s all I can promise you.’
‘That’s all we’re asking,’ said Erica eagerly, looking as though she’d like to throw her arms around Mellberg.
‘Okay, take it easy. I don’t think I’ll be successful, but I’ll do my best. And at the moment I need some peace and quiet to work.’
‘We’re leaving right now,’ said Patrik, getting to his feet. ‘Let me know as soon as you hear anything.’
Mellberg didn’t answer, just waved them out the door as he picked up the phone to start on what looked set to be the most difficult test of his persuasive abilities in his entire career.
Chapter 38
He had been living with them for six months, and they had known that they were in love for three months
