Stalker

88

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is located on Järfallavägen, next to a large, tarmacked car park. It’s a low building with a terracotta-coloured façade, panelled roof and a red tower rising from the centre of a circular stone foundation.

Stake president Thomas Apel lives with his wife and two children in a cement-grey villa very close to the temple. From the garden’s wooden decking with its covered barbeque, the red tower is visible above the trees and tiled roofs.

Adam and Margot are sitting in the living room with glasses of lemonade. Thomas Apel and his wife Ingrid are sitting opposite them. Thomas is a skinny man, dressed in grey trousers, a white shirt, and a pale grey tie. His face is clean-shaven and thin, with fair eyebrows and a narrow, crooked mouth.

Margot has just asked Thomas where he was at the times of the murders, and he’s replied that he was at home with his family.

‘Is there anyone else who could vouch for that?’ Margot asks, looking at Ingrid.

‘Well, of course the children were at home,’ Thomas’s wife says in an amiable voice.

‘No one else?’ Adam asks.

‘We lead a quiet life,’ Thomas replies, as if that explained everything.

‘You have a lovely home,’ Margot says, glancing round the smart room.

An African mask is hanging on the wall next to a painting of a woman in a black dress with a red book in her lap.

‘Thank you,’ Ingrid says.

‘Each family is a kingdom,’ Thomas says. ‘Ingrid is my queen, the girls princesses.’

‘Naturally.’ Margot smiles.

She looks at Ingrid’s face, free of make-up, at the small pearls in her earlobes, and the long dress that reaches up to her neck and halfway over her hands.

‘You probably think we dress in a very old-fashioned, boring way,’ Ingrid says when she sees Margot looking.

‘It looks nice,’ Margot lies, and tries to find a comfortable position on the deep sofa with crocheted antimacassars on the back.

Thomas leans forward, pours more lemonade in her glass, and she thanks him soundlessly.

‘Our lives aren’t boring,’ Thomas says calmly. ‘There’s nothing boring about not using drugs, or alcohol or tobacco… or coffee or tea.’

‘Why not coffee?’ Adam asks.

‘Because the body is a gift from God,’ he replies simply.

‘If it’s a gift, then surely you can drink coffee if you want to?’ Adam retorts.

‘Of course, it isn’t set in stone,’ Thomas says lightly. ‘It’s just guidance…’

‘OK,’ Adam nods.

‘But if we listen to this guidance, the Lord promises that the angel of death will pass our home and not kill us.’ Thomas smiles.

‘How quickly does the angel come if you mess up badly?’ Margot asks.

‘You said you wanted to look at my diary?’ Thomas says, the veins in his temples darkening slightly.

‘I’ll get it,’ Ingrid volunteers, and rises to her feet.

‘I’ll just get some water,’ Margot says, and follows her.

Thomas makes a move to stand up but Adam stops him by asking about the role of the stake president.

Ingrid is standing at a bureau looking for the diary when Margot walks into the immaculately tidy kitchen.

‘Could I have some water?’ Margot asks.

‘Yes, of course,’ Ingrid says.

‘Were you here last Sunday?’

‘Yes,’ the woman replies, and a tiny frown appears across the bridge of her nose. ‘We were at home.’

‘What did you do?’

‘We did… the usual, we had dinner and watched television.’

‘What was on television?’ she asks

‘We only watch Mormon television,’ Ingrid says, checking that the tap is properly turned off.

‘Does your husband ever go out alone in the evening?’

‘No.’

‘Not even to the temple?’

‘I’ll have a look in the bedroom,’ the woman says, her cheeks flushing as she leaves the kitchen.

Margot drinks, then puts the glass down on the worktop and goes back out to the living room. She can see the tension in Adam’s face, and a tiny hint of sweat above his top lip.

‘Are you on any medication?’ Adam asks.

‘No,’ Thomas replies, wiping his palms on his pale grey trousers.

‘No psychoactive drugs, no anti-depressants?’ Margot asks, sitting down on the sofa again.

‘Why do you want to know that?’ he asks, looking at her with calm, blank eyes.

‘Because you received treatment for mental illness twenty years ago.’

‘That was a difficult time for me, before I listened to God.’

He falls silent and looks warmly at Ingrid, who’s just come back in. She’s standing in the doorway with a red Filofax in her hand.

Margot takes the book, puts on her reading glasses and starts leafing through the dates.

‘Do you have a video camera?’ Adam asks as Margot skims through the diary.

‘Yes,’ he replies, with a quizzical look at Adam.

‘Can I take a look at it?’

Thomas’s Adam’s apple bobs above the knot of his tie.

‘What for?’ he asks.

‘Just routine,’ Adam replies.

‘OK, but it’s being repaired.’ Thomas smiles, stretching his crooked mouth.

‘Where?’

‘A friend’s mending it for me,’ he says softly.

‘Can I have the name of the friend, please?’

‘Of course,’ Thomas murmurs and Adam’s phone rings inside his jacket.

‘Excuse me,’ he says, standing up and looking for his mobile as he turns his back on Thomas.

Through the window at the back he sees a neighbour standing on the other side of the fence looking at them. In the reflection he can also see himself, his thick hair and heavy eyebrows. He finds his phone: Adde, an IT technician with National Crime, who also happens to live in Hökmossen.

‘Adam,’ he says as he answers.

‘Another film,’ Adde practically screams.

‘We’ll be there as soon as-’

‘It’s your wife on the video, it’s Katryna-’

Adam doesn’t hear anything after that, he walks straight into the hall, leans against the wall and manages to pull down a framed photograph of two smiling girls.

‘Adam?’ Margot calls. ‘What’s going on?’

She leaves the book on the sofa, stands up and accidentally knocks over a glass of lemonade on the low table.

Adam has already reached the front door. Margot can’t see his face. She feels sick, clutches her stomach and follows him out.

Adam runs down the path to the car.

He’s started the engine before she’s even out of the door. She stops, panting for breath, and watches him rev the engine, perform a sharp U-turn in the road, skid and drive into a hockey-goal that some children have erected on the side of the road. She walks down to the road and is gesturing for him to stop when her phone rings.