The Princess of Burundi

Forty-one

Lindell drove slowly, in part because she was not used to the car, in part because the driving conditions were less than ideal. The wind had driven snow from the fields into tightly packed drifts, and when she made it into the forest the road was deceptively slippery underneath this white cover.

When she spotted the bell tower of Bälinge church she knew that she had made it. She had marked on Haver’s map the street where Erki Karjalainen lived. After winding her way down small roads in the densely built suburb she eventually came to a dead end. She had to turn the car around and realized that despite the map she had taken a wrong turn.

A rising sense of irritation increased her nervousness. She recognized these symptoms. It was the feeling of creeping danger. Admittedly Justus was in safety, but something else was casting a dark shadow over her. She guessed it was the fact that a murderer was on the loose. It suddenly hit her that it was her concern for her colleagues that made her extra jumpy. Ruben Sagander could be out there somewhere in the dark December night. He had borrowed ammunition from Agne and perhaps he was still armed. Haver and Berglund would wait until their backup arrived, then they would put on bulletproof vests and approach Sagander’s house with the greatest care. She knew all this, but she also knew that violence and perpetrators of violence had their own logic.

When she finally arrived at Karjalainen’s house and stepped out of the car she paused and pricked up her ears, as if she would have been able to hear any resulting noise from the Börje area, over ten kilometers away. Haver hated weapons, not least after the events at Biskops Arnö when he-without acceptable provocation-had opened fire against a serial killer whom he erroneously believed to be threatening Lindell with a pistol. Lindell had reacted by also opening fire and the man had died.

Haver and Lindell had never talked seriously about that event. Now Haver found himself in the presence of another assumed murderer. Before she left the house, Lindell had asked Haver if he had his gun. He had nodded but not said anything. Lindell was certain that he was thinking of the fateful chain of events at the hut that summer night not so long ago but shoved away into a distant corner in both their minds.

She took out her cell phone and called home. This time her father answered, which surprised but pleased her. Erik had been up for an hour and his grandmother was with him.

“He’s a plucky little boy,” her father said.

Lindell smiled and they ended the conversation soon after.

Erki Karjalainen opened the door, a slight smile on his face. He let her in without a word, something she appreciated. She didn’t have the stomach for empty Christmas phrases.

Justus was in the kitchen. A woman was at the stove stirring something in a pot. She looked up and smiled. There was a sweet scent in the air. The boy gave her a quick look, then cast down his eyes. On the table in front of him there was a plate and a glass of milk. Lindell sat down across from him. Erki lingered in the doorway for a moment before he also sat down at the table. The woman pulled the pot to one side, turned the heat off, and left the kitchen. Erki followed her with his gaze.

“My sister,” he said.

Lindell nodded and looked at Justus, who met her eyes.

“How is it going?” she asked.

“Fine.”

“I’m glad you’re all right. We’ve been worried about you.”

“I just went out for a while,” Justus said defiantly.

“Your mother didn’t know where you were.”

Lindell found it hard to talk to teenagers. They were neither children nor adults. She always had the feeling that she was pitching her words at the wrong level, either too childish or too advanced. She needed Sammy’s innate ability to reason with them.

Justus scratched the plate with a knife. He looked absentminded but Lindell sensed he was boiling inside.

“Did you hear that Sagander’s workshop burned down?” she asked quietly and leaned closer to him.

He shook his head.

“You know,” Erki said.

Justus looked at him hastily and for a moment Lindell saw the terror in his eyes, as if he was afraid of Erki but conscious of the folly of denying what he had probably just confided to him. Justus nodded.

“Tell me about it,” Lindell said.

Justus began awkwardly, but after a while his words started to flow. He stopped in the middle of a sentence and looked at Lindell.

“Sagge is an idiot,” he said.

“He has only praise for your father.”

“He fired him,” Justus said. “What good is his praise?”

“You have a point there, Justus,” Lindell said with a smile.

When Justus had finished his story he appeared to realize for the first time that the fire had cost Erki his job. The terror returned to his eyes and he sucked in his breath.

“Take it easy,” Erki said, as if he had read the boy’s mind.

“What do you want to do now?” Lindell asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Shouldn’t you call Berit and tell her where you are?”

“Am I going to jail?”

“You’re under fifteen,” Lindell said. “You can’t be tried as an adult. There will be consequences, of course, but we’ll keep in mind that your father has just died and that you’ve been extremely upset.”

“One more thing,” Erki said calmly, and Lindell’s appreciation of him grew even more. “Justus has some money. Do you want me to tell her?”

The boy said nothing. Erki waited, then started to talk.

“He came here by taxi and I wondered where he got the money,” Erki said and stretched his hand out for a backpack leaning against the wall. Lindell sensed what it contained but drew her breath when Erki unzipped it and revealed thick wads of five-hundred-kronor notes.

“How much is it?”

“I don’t know,” Erki said and put the backpack down. “I haven’t counted it, but it must be a couple of thousand.”

“I didn’t take it all,” Justus said almost inaudibly.

“Where did the money come from?” Lindell asked.

“It was Dad’s.”

“From the start?”

“We were planning to go to Africa,” Justus said defiantly. “He had saved it up so we could start a fish farm. Maybe in Burundi.”

“Do you know where the money came from?”

The boy shook his head.

“I know,” Erki said. “It came from the shop.”

“Tell me,” Lindell said.

Erki and Justus looked at each other. Justus’s expression changed. The mixture of aggression and passivity slowly gave way to a gentler expression and Lindell saw that Justus had inherited Little John’s delicate features. The inner defenses gave way. He looked pleadingly at Erki, who took the boy’s hand in his, enveloping it completely. Half a finger was missing from Erki’s hand. Lindell and Erki exchanged a look. Lindell saw that he was touched.

“You may not know this but he was an expert in tropical fish,” Erki said. “We all have our dreams, don’t we? Our lives…”

Lindell waited for a continuation but it never came.

“How do you know the money came from the shop?”

“I’ve worked there a long time,” Erki said. “I see a lot. I know.”

Lindell left the subject. She would get the details in due course.

“Did Berit know about the backpack?”

Justus shook his head.

“I didn’t take it all. I left half.”

“Where is it?”

“At home in the closet.”

“And she doesn’t know?”

“Only Dad and I knew.”

“Okay,” Lindell said. “I get it.”

She turned to Erki and asked if she could use the bathroom. He pointed to the hall. Lindell left the kitchen and closed the door after her. Two children sat on the floor. They had arranged all the shoes by the door into a big pile. Lindell caught sight of her boots near the bottom. From another room came the sound of music and loud peals of laughter. Lindell felt as if she were making an educational visit to a Normal Home.

In the bathroom she picked up her cell phone and called Haver. He told her that Ruben Sagander wasn’t home. His wife had been waiting for a few hours and had tried his cell phone but had been unable to reach him.

“What are you doing?” Lindell asked.

“We’ve sent out an alert,” Haver said. “We’re trying to figure out where he may have gone.”

“He’s armed,” Lindell said.

“We know,” Haver said.

“Is he the one?”

“We can’t say for sure, but the tracks in the snow appear to match up. He has a red-and-white pickup and he was at Akademiska Hospital on the same day the knife was stolen.”

“Have you asked about the knife?”

“His wife says he has a large number of knives,” Haver said. “The whole house is full of weapons and trophies.”

“Motive?”

“Money, most likely,” Haver said.

A short pause reigned before Lindell got the words out.

“I’m sorry for what happened.”

“It’s okay,” Haver said, but Lindell could hear that it wasn’t.

“I have to get home to Erik,” she said. “Justus is here with Erki Karjalainen and doesn’t want to go home yet. I think he should be able to stay awhile longer.”

Finally she told him about the money stolen from the shop and the cash in Justus’s backpack. She hadn’t been sure she wanted to tell Haver about this. She knew she had to, but it felt like a betrayal of Erki and Justus.

“Money,” Haver repeated.

“Ola, be careful.”

Lindell ended the call and blew her nose with a little piece of toilet paper. The children in the hall were singing a Finnish Christmas song in shrill tones. She dialed Berit’s number. When she answered, Lindell had to fight to keep the emotion out of her voice. She knew what a relief it would be for Berit to hear that Justus was fine.

“Thank God,” she whispered.

Lindell could imagine her expression. She swallowed and continued.

“One more thing. In the closet in Justus’s room there’s a lot of money. It’s John’s money. I’ll tell you later how he got it. It’s not just from poker, I can tell you. I’ll be over in a while so we can talk, then my colleagues will come down.”

“What about Justus?”

“He’s safe here. Give him a few hours. I promise you he’s fine.”

“Tell me more about the money. Where did it come from?”

“I’ll be over soon. Okay?”

She went back to the kitchen. Justus looked up.

“I was treated to a Finnish concert out there,” Lindell said lightly and tried to smile.

“It’s the grandkids,” Erki said.

“Can Justus stay with you a bit longer?” she asked.

Erki and Justus looked at each other.

“Of course. We’ll call Berit later. I’ll bring him back.”

Lindell nodded.

“I’m going home now,” she said, but paused. “Good-bye, Justus. I’ll see you.”

She gave Erki a look. He got to his feet slowly and when Lindell left the room he followed.

“There’s one thing,” she said as she searched for her boots in the pile of shoes.

Erki closed the door to the kitchen.

“I want…I know this is wrong, but there’s one thing.”

Lindell fished out one boot. She turned to Erki.

“This thing about dreams,” she said. “Aren’t children the most important?”

Erki nodded.

“I was thinking…Justus dreams of Africa.”

Erki glanced at the kitchen door and took a step closer.

“Africa isn’t what he thinks it is, but it’s the dream he shared with John. What happens to him now?”

A group of kids ran giggling out of the living room, stopping short when they saw Lindell. They looked at the boot in her hand and the pile of shoes. Erki said something in Finnish and they immediately drew back into the living room and closed the door behind them.

When Lindell continued to speak it was with greater assurance.

“I want you to count out one hundred thousand from the backpack and put it aside. Hide it, and when everything has calmed down I want you to make sure Berit and the boy get to Africa. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Erki nodded.

“He has to see the place, even if it’s only for a week,” Lindell said.

“Isn’t this wrong?” Erki said.

Lindell shook her head.

“I would be fired on the spot if this came to light, but you like the boy, don’t you?”

Erki Karjalainen smiled. Lindell thought she caught a whiff of mulled wine on his breath.

“Treat yourself to a taxi to Berit’s and back,” she said.

“But stealing?” Erki said. “What will the boy think?”

“Tell him it’s what John would have wanted.”

Erki leaned forward and for a second she thought he was going to hug her, but he only gave her an intent look, as if he wanted to check the sincerity in her expression.

“Are you alone with your baby over Christmas?”

Lindell shook her head, bent over, and fished out her other boot.

“We’re having Berit and Justus over,” Erki said. “If you want to come.”

Lindell looked around, sat down on a chair, and pulled her boots on with concentration. She wanted to run away but also stay there. She sighed heavily and pulled up the zipper of her boot.

“My parents are in town,” she said and managed to give him a smile. “But it’s very nice of you to invite me. Thank you.”

Lindell stepped out into the cold with a sense of longing. She turned. A nose was pressed against the glass and she waved. The nose disappeared.

She let the engine run for a while, like she always did. When she finally put it in gear she realized where this habit came from: it’s what her father had always done with the delivery truck. He would go out a few minutes before he wanted to leave, turn on the engine, then go back in and have the last drop of his morning coffee before setting out on his rounds.

She called home. This time her mother’s voice was commanding.

“You are coming home this instant,” she said.

“There’s a boy here who needed attention,” Ann said.

“You have a boy yourself.”

“He’s hardly suffering,” Ann said, but she felt a twinge of guilty conscience.

“Where are you?”

“Don’t you hear what I’m saying? I’ll be home soon! I’m just going to stop by and see someone on the way back.”

Her mother hung up, and Ann was not surprised. She knew her mother was incapable of having a discussion of any length with her daughter. The distance between them was too great.

She pushed away all thoughts of her parents in the way she had always done, by thinking of her work. Had it been right to ask Erki to put away a hundred thousand? He had raised the issue of morality, but the fact was that it was John’s money. Even if the starting sum had been stolen, then surely the poker winnings were his? If the money from the workshop was subtracted perhaps there would be even more than a hundred thousand, and this money would go to Berit and Justus in any case. This was how she was going to construct her inner moral defense.

She smiled to herself. After a while she turned on the radio. The calm music that flooded the interior took her back to another car ride on a summer’s day several years ago when she had been on her way to visit her parents. The music combined with her own sense of being lost had caused her to turn the car around and drive to Gräsö and Edvard for the first time.

It had been summer. She had had Edvard. Now it was raw winter. She turned off the radio, suddenly exasperated at herself and her depressing fate, her inability to look after herself.