‘Not at all,’ said Hanna, sounding annoyed. ‘I just think it seems a bit vague. I wish we had more to go on so we don’t end up down a blind alley. I mean, can we actually conclude that a connection exists? Maybe it’s just a coincidence that they died the same way. Since there isn’t any obvious link between the victims, the whole thing seems a bit hazy. But that’s just my opinion.’ She threw out her hands in a way that indicated she thought everyone should agree with her.
Patrik replied curtly with an icy tone to his voice that sounded out of character even to himself. ‘Then I think you ought to keep that opinion to yourself for the time being, and do the job you’ve been assigned.’
He felt the others staring at him in astonishment as he left Mellberg’s office. It wasn’t like him to lose his temper. But Hanna had put her finger on a tender spot. What if his gut feeling was leading him astray?
‘Yes?’ asked Kristina, sipping her tea with a grimace. To Erica’s great surprise she had declared that she no longer drank coffee because of her ‘tender tummy’, patting her stomach with a regretful sigh. As long as Erica had known her, Kristina had been a big coffee drinker, so it would be interesting to see how long this decision would hold.
‘Is
‘So, how’s it going with this… wedding?’ she said with no trace of baby-talk. She pronounced the word ‘wedding’ with the same distaste as if she were saying ‘dog shit’. At least she didn’t expect to be involved in all the planning.
‘It’s going splendidly. Thanks for asking,’ said Erica, flashing her loveliest smile. Inside she was rattling off the worst, most disgusting swear words she could think up. A sailor would have envied her rich vocabulary.
‘I see,’ said Kristina crossly. Erica sensed that she had asked the question in the hope of getting at least a glimmer of impending disaster.
Anna, who was sitting on the sidelines observing with amusement her sister’s interaction with her mother-in- law, now decided to throw Erica a lifeline. ‘Everything is coming along nicely. We’re even ahead of schedule, aren’t we, Erica?’
Erica nodded with obvious pride. But now all the silent epithets were replaced with a big question mark. What was Anna talking about, ahead of schedule? That was pushing it. But Erica didn’t let her confusion show. She had learned to think of her mother-in-law as a shark. If Kristina got the slightest scent of blood, sooner or later somebody was going to lose an arm. Or a leg.
‘What about the music?’ said Kristina, making a new attempt to sip her tea. Erica took a big gulp of her coal- black coffee and waved her cup about so that the aroma would spread over to Kristina’s side of the table.
‘We’ve hired a band from Fjallbacka. They’re called Garage, and they’re really good.’
‘I see,’ said Kristina with undisguised ill-humour. ‘So it’s going to be some of that pop music that you young folks listen to. Those of us who are a bit older will probably have to leave early.’
Erica could feel Anna kicking her in the shins. She didn’t dare look at her sister for fear of bursting out laughing, even though she didn’t find the situation that funny.
‘Well, I hope at least you’re thinking about the guest list. I couldn’t possibly attend unless Aunt Gota and Aunt Ruth are invited too.’
‘Really?’ said Anna innocently. ‘Patrik must be very close to them. Did he spend a lot of time with his aunts when he was growing up?’
Kristina hadn’t expected that topic to prompt such an insidious attack. ‘Well, no, I can’t say that -’
Anna interrupted her, speaking in the same innocent voice. ‘When was the last time Patrik saw them? I can’t recall him ever mentioning his aunts.’
With a stern frown Kristina was forced to retreat. ‘I suppose it was a while ago. Patrik was about… ten, as I recall.’
‘Then perhaps we should save those places on the guest list for someone Patrik has seen within the past twenty-seven years,’ said Erica, fighting an urge to give her sister a high-five.
‘I suppose you’ll do what you like anyway,’ said Kristina, annoyed. She realized that this point on her agenda could now be considered lost. But taking yet another sip of the disgusting tea she deployed her coup de grace, keeping her eyes fixed on Erica. ‘I hope that Lotta will get to be maid of honour!’
Erica gave Anna a desperate look. She hadn’t even considered asking Patrik’s sister to be maid of honour; she naturally wanted Anna to play that role. Erica sat in silence for a moment, pondering how to counter Kristina’s latest manoeuvre. Then she decided simply to lay her cards on the table.
‘Anna is going to be maid of honour,’ she said calmly. ‘And as to the other details of the wedding, I want them to be a surprise. You’ll just have to wait until the wedding day.’
Kristina opened her mouth to protest, but she saw the steely glint in Erica’s eyes and stopped. Instead she contented herself with muttering, ‘Well, I was just trying to help. That’s all. But if you don’t want my help then…’
Erica didn’t say a word. She merely smiled and took another gulp of her coffee.
Patrik slept all the way to Boras. He was worn out after everything that had happened in the past few weeks, and after sitting up all night reading through Gradenius’s documents. When he woke up, just at the outskirts of Boras, he had a nasty crick in his neck from sleeping with his head leaning on the window. With a grimace he massaged the sore spot as he blinked at the light.
‘We’ll be there in five minutes,’ said Martin. ‘I talked to Eva Olsson and got directions to her home. I think we’re close.’
‘Good,’ said Patrik, trying to collect his thoughts before the interview. Rasmus Olsson’s mother had sounded so eager when they rang. She invited them to stop by and have a chat. ‘Finally,’ she said, ‘finally somebody is going to listen to me.’ Patrik sincerely hoped they wouldn’t have to disappoint her.
The directions she had given Martin were excellent, and it didn’t take long before they found the block where she lived. They pressed the button for her flat and were buzzed in. Two flights up the door opened as soon as they set foot on the landing. A small dark-haired woman stood waiting for them. They shook hands and she showed them into the living room. She had set out coffee on a table with a lace tablecloth; dainty cups and elegant serviettes and cake forks. There was milk in a slender pitcher and sugar in a bowl with silver tongs. Everything was so delicate and refined that the table seemed to be set for a doll’s tea party. Five kinds of pastries were also arranged on a big china platter decorated with the same pattern as the cups.
‘Please have a seat,’ she said, pointing to a sofa with floral upholstery. The flat was filled with light. The triple-paned window kept out the traffic noise from the street; the only sound was the ticking of an old clock on the wall. Patrik recognized the elaborate gold pattern and shape of the clock. His grandmother used to have one just like it.
‘Do you both drink coffee? Otherwise I have tea.’ She gave them an eager glance. She wanted so much to please them that it cut Patrik to the heart. He sensed that she didn’t often have visitors.
‘We’d love some coffee,’ he said with a smile. As she carefully filled their cups he reflected that she looked just as small and delicate as the crockery. She was probably between fifty and sixty, he guessed, but it was hard to tell because she had an air of eternal sadness about her. As if time had stopped. Oddly enough she seemed to know what he was thinking.
‘It’s almost three and a half years since Rasmus died,’ she said. She looked over at the photographs that were displayed on a large secretaire at one end of the room. Patrik looked too and recognized the man from the photos in the folder that Gradenius had given him. But the circumstances of those pictures bore little resemblance to the settings of the photos in the room.
‘May I take a pastry?’ Martin asked.
Eva Olsson nodded as she tore her eyes away from the photos of her son. ‘Yes, please do, be my guest.’
Martin reached for a pastry and placed it on the plate before him. He looked at Patrik, who took a deep breath before he spoke.
‘As I told you on the phone, we’re taking another look into Rasmus’s death.’
‘Yes, I understand that,’ said Eva, and there was a spark of interest round the sadness in her eyes. ‘What puzzles me is why the police from – Tanumshede, was it? – are taking a closer look. Shouldn’t it be the police here
