It was a Sunday when catastrophe struck. The boat to America was supposed to sail from Goteborg on Friday and they had already done most of the packing. Anders had sent Agnes into town to buy some last items that he thought they would need 'over there', and for once he had entrusted her with some money.
She had her basket full of purchases when she turned the corner and began to walk up the hill. She could hear people shouting in the distance, and she quickened her steps. The smoke reached her a few houses away from theirs, and she saw that it was thicker farther up the hill. Agnes dropped the basket and ran. The first thing she saw was the fire. Huge flames were shooting out of the windows of the house, and people were running back and forth like chickens with their heads cut off. The men and some of the women were carrying buckets of water. The rest of the women held their hands to their heads, screaming in panic. The fire had spread to a number of houses and seemed to be taking over more and more of the neighbourhood. It spread with incredible speed. Agnes observed the scene with her mouth agape and her eyes wide with shock. Nothing could have prepared her for this sight.
A thick black smoke began to settle like a lid over the houses, turning the air at ground level greyish and hazy, like a fog. Agnes still stood as if frozen to the spot when one of the neighbour women came up to her and grabbed her by the arm.
'Agnes, come with me, don't just stand there staring at it.' She tried to pull her along, but Agnes wouldn't budge. Her eyes filled with tears from the smoke as she stared at the flaming ruin of their home. It seemed to be the one burning brightest of all.
'Anders… the boys…' she said tonelessly. The neighbour woman now tugged desperately at the sleeve of her blouse to get her to leave the scene.
'We don't know anything yet,' said the woman, who Agnes vaguely recalled was named Britt, or maybe Britta. She went on, 'Everybody was told to gather at the market square. Maybe your family are already down there,' she said, but Agnes could hear the doubt in her voice. The woman knew as well as Agnes that she wouldn't find any of them there.
Slowly she turned round and felt the heat from the fire warming her back. Listlessly she followed Britt or Britta down the hill, allowing herself to be led to the square, where the wailing of the women rose to the heavens. But they all fell silent when Agnes appeared. The rumour had already spread; while they were crying over their lost homes and possessions, Agnes could cry over her husband and her two little boys. All the mothers looked at her with aching hearts. Regardless of what they may have said or thought about her before, at this moment she was a mother who had lost her children, and they pressed their own little ones close.
Agnes kept her gaze fixed on the ground. She did not cry.
They stood up as Patrik came towards them. Veronika held her daughter's hand tight and wouldn't let go even when Patrik led them to his small office. He pointed to the two chairs and they sat down.
'So, how can I help you?' asked Patrik, smiling reassuringly at Frida when he noticed her anxious expression. She looked up at her mother, who nodded.
'Frida has something to tell you,' said Veronika, nodding again to her daughter.
'Actually it's a secret,' said Frida in a faint voice.
'Oh, a secret,' said Patrik. 'How exciting.' He could see that the girl was extremely uncertain about whether to tell him or not, so he went on, 'But you know, the job of the police is to listen to everyone's secrets, so it doesn't really count if you tell a secret to the police.'
That made Frida's face light up. 'So you get to know all the secrets in the world, then?'
'Well, maybe not all of them,' said Patrik. 'But almost all. So what sort of secret do you have?'
'There was a disgusting old man who scared Sara,' she said, now talking fast to get the words out. 'He was super-nasty and said that she was 'double pawn' and Sara got really scared. But I wasn't allowed to tell anybody, because she was afraid the old man would come back.'
She caught her breath. Patrik felt his eyebrows arch. Double pawn?
'What did the old man look like, Frida? Can you remember?'
She nodded. 'He was super-old. A hundred at least. Like Grandpa.'
'Her Grandpa is sixty,' said Veronika, and couldn't help smiling.
Frida went on. 'His hair was all grey and his clothes were all black.' She seemed about to continue but then slumped down in her chair. 'That's all I remember,' she said downhearted, and Patrik winked at her.
'That's excellent. And it was a good secret to tell the police.'
'So you don't think that Sara will be mad when she comes back from heaven, because I told you?'
Veronika took a deep breath to explain again the realities of death to her daughter, but Patrik interrupted.
'No, because you know what I think? I think that Sara is having much too good a time in heaven to want to come back, and I'm sure she doesn't mind whether you told the secret or not.'
'Are you sure?' said Frida sceptically
'I'm sure,' said Patrik.
Veronika got up. 'Well, you know where we live if you need to ask anything else. But I really think Frida doesn't know any more than that.' She hesitated. 'Do you think it might be…?'
Patrik just shook his head and said, 'Impossible to say, but it was great that you came in and told me about this. All information is important.'
'Could I ride in a police car?' said Frida, giving Patrik a pleading look.
He laughed. 'Not today, but I'll see if we can arrange it some other time.'
She seemed content with that, and preceded her mother into the corridor.
'Thanks for coming,' said Patrik, shaking hands with Veronika.
'I do hope you catch the man who did this soon. I hardly dare let her out of my sight,' she said, reaching out to stroke her daughter's hair.
'We'll do our best,' said Patrik with more confidence than he felt, and accompanied them to the front entrance.
As the door closed behind them he pondered what Frida had said. A disgusting old man? The description she'd given didn't match Kaj. Who could it be?
He went over to Annika sitting behind her glassed-in counter. After glancing at the clock he said wearily, 'You had some tips I was supposed to look at?'
'Yes, here they are,' she said, shoving a sheet of paper towards him. 'And don't forget that Gosta wants to talk to you too. He's probably about to go home, so you'd better get hold of him right away.'
'Some people sure have it easy, being able to go home,' he sighed. Erica hadn't been happy when he called, and his guilty conscience was nagging him.
'He probably goes home when you tell him he can go home,' said Annika, peering over the top of her glasses at Patrik.
'In theory you're right, but in practice it's probably best for Gosta to go home and get some rest. He doesn't contribute much when he's sitting here grumbling.'
It sounded harsher than Patrik intended, but sometimes he got so tired of having to drag his colleagues along with him. Two of them, at any rate. Oh well, he could at least be thankful that Gosta was far too lacking in initiative to present the problems that Ernst did.
'I suppose I'd better go find out what he wants.'
Patrik picked up the piece of paper with the tip information and headed for
