teacher's tone of voice, which made Patrik repress a desire to stand at attention and bow.
'We're from the police. We're looking for Sara Klinga's teacher.'
A shadow crept over her face and she nodded. 'That's me.' She got up and came over to shake their hands. 'Beatrice Lind. I teach first through third grade.' She motioned for them to take a seat on one of the small chairs next to the school desks. Patrik felt like a giant as he cautiously sat down. The sight of Ernst trying to coordinate all parts of his gangly frame to fit in the tiny chair made him smirk. But as soon as Patrik turned his gaze to the teacher his expression turned sombre again and he focused on the task at hand.
'It's so terribly tragic,' said Beatrice, her voice quavering. 'That a child can be here one day and gone the next…' Now her lower lip was trembling too. 'And drowned…'
'Yes, especially since it turns out that her death was not an accident.' Patrik had thought the news would have spread to everyone in town, but Beatrice looked undeniably shocked.
'What? What do you mean? No accident? But she drowned, didn't she?'
'Sara was murdered,' said Patrik, hearing how brusque that sounded. In a gentler tone of voice he added, 'She didn't die from an accident, so we have to find out more about Sara. What she was like as a person, whether there were any problems in the family, that sort of thing.'
He could see that Beatrice was still upset at the news, but she seemed to be pondering what it might mean. After a while she had collected herself and said, 'Well, what is there to say about Sara? She was…' she searched for the right word, 'a very lively child. And that was both good and bad. There wasn't a quiet moment when Sara was around, and to be honest it could be difficult to maintain order in the classroom sometimes. She was something of a leader, pulling the others along, and if I didn't put a stop to it, utter chaos could result. At the same time…' Beatrice hesitated again and looked as though she were weighing each word very carefully, 'at the same time, it was precisely that energy that made her so creative. She was incredibly talented in drawing and every other artistic pursuit, and she had the most active imagination I've ever seen. She was quite simply a very creative child, whether she was pulling pranks or producing a work of art.'
Ernst squirmed in the little chair and said, 'We heard that she had one of those problems with initials, DAMP or whatever it's called.'
His disrespectful tone prompted Beatrice to give him a sharp look, and to Patrik's amusement his colleague actually cringed.
'Sara did have DAMP, that's correct. She was given special tutoring for it. We have a good deal of experience in this field, so we can give these children what they need to function optimally.' It sounded like a lecture, and Patrik understood that this was something of a pet topic for her.
'How did the problems manifest themselves for Sara?' Patrik asked.
'In the way I described. She had a very high energy level and could sometimes throw terrible tantrums. But as I said, she was also a very creative child. She wasn't mean or nasty or badly brought up, as many ignorant people might say of children like Sara. She simply had a hard time controlling her impulses.'
'How did the other children react to her behaviour?' Patrik was truly curious.
'It varied. Some couldn't get along with her at all and retreated. Others seemed to be able to handle her outbursts with equanimity and got along fine with her. I would say that her best friend was Frida Karlgren. They happen to live right near each other.'
'Yes, we've spoken with her,' said Patrik with a nod. He twisted on the chair once again. He had begun to get pins and needles in his legs, and he could feel a cramp forming in his right calf. He sincerely hoped that Ernst was feeling equally uncomfortable.
'What about her family?' Ernst interjected. 'Do you know if Sara had any problems at home?'
Patrik had to suppress a smile when he saw that his colleague was indeed massaging his calves.
'Unfortunately I can't help you there,' said Beatrice, pursing her lips. It was obvious that she wasn't in the habit of telling tales about the home life of her pupils. 'I've only met her parents and her grandmother once. They seemed to be stable, pleasant people. And I never had any indication from Sara that anything was wrong.'
A bell rang shrilly to signal that recess was over, and a lively commotion in the corridor revealed that the children had obediently responded to the call. Beatrice got up and held out her hand as a sign that the conversation was finished. Patrik managed to extricate himself from the chair and stand up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ernst massaging one leg, which had evidently gone to sleep. Like two old men they tottered out of the classroom after saying goodbye to the teacher.
'Damn, what uncomfortable chairs,' said Ernst as he limped out to the car.
'Well, I guess we're not that limber anymore,' said Patrik, sinking into the driver's seat of the car. All of a sudden the comfortable seat with plenty of leg room felt like an incredible luxury.
'Speak for yourself,' muttered Ernst. 'My physical condition is just as good as when I was a teenager, but nobody is built to sit on that bloody miniature furniture.'
Patrik changed the subject. 'We certainly didn't find out much of any use from that visit.'
'Sounds to me like the girl was a hell of a pest,' said Ernst. 'Nowadays it seems that any kid who doesn't know how to behave is excused with some damn variant of DAMP. In my day that sort of behaviour would get you a couple of raps with the ruler. But now the kids have to be medicated and soothed by psychologists and pampered. No wonder society is going to hell.' Ernst stared gloomily out of the window on the passenger side and shook his head.
Patrik didn't acknowledge his comment with an answer. There was really no point.
'Are you really going to feed her again? In my day we never nursed more often than every four hours,' said Kristina, giving Erica a critical look as she sat down in the easy chair to nurse Maja after a mere two and a half hours.
In this situation Erica knew better than to argue, so she simply ignored Krishna's remark. It was only one of many that had been hurled through the air that morning, and Erica felt that soon she would reach her limit. Her failed attempts to clean house adequately had been noticed, just as she had predicted. Now her mother-in- law was dashing about with the vacuum cleaner like a madwoman, muttering comments on her favourite topic: dust causing asthma in small children. Before this she had demonstratively gone into the kitchen and washed all the dishes in the sink and on the drain- board, all the while instructing Erica in the correct way to wash up. The dishes had to be rinsed off promptly so that remnants of food wouldn't stick, and it was just as well to do the washing up at once. Otherwise the dishes would just pile up. Clenching her teeth, Erica tried to focus on the long catnap she'd be able to take when Kristina went out with the pram. Although she was starting to wonder whether it was worth the trouble.
She made herself comfortable in the easy chair and tried to get Maja to nurse. But the baby sensed the tension in the air. She had fretted and fussed most of the morning, and now she stubbornly resisted the little milk offered to soothe her. Erica was sweating as she fought this battle of wills with her infant daughter. Only when Maja finally gave in and began to nurse did Erica relax. Cautiously, so she wouldn't have struggled in vain, she switched on the TV.
'Ugh, how can you stand to watch such trash? Why don't you read a book instead?'
Erica retaliated by turning up the volume on the TV. For a second she permitted herself to enjoy the satisfaction of such a spiteful response. But when she saw her mother-in-law's insulted look, she turned it back down. She knew she would pay a high price for any attempts at rebellion. She glanced at her watch. Good Lord, it was only a little before noon. It would be an eternity until Patrik came home. And then another day just like this one would follow, before Kristina packed her bags and went home, convinced that she had been of invaluable help to her son and daughter-in-law. Two more interminable days…
