The Stone Cutter

STRÖMSTAD 1923

It wasn't the first time Agnes had sneaked out of the house. It was so easy. She just opened the window, climbed out on the roof and down the tree, whose thick crown was right next to the house. It was a piece of cake. But after careful consideration she'd decided not to wear a dress, which could make tree-climbing difficult. Instead she chose a pair of trousers with narrow legs that hugged her thighs.

She felt as if driven by an enormous wave, which she neither wanted to nor could resist. It was both frightening and pleasant lo feel such strong feelings for someone, and she realized that the fleeting infatuations she had previously taken seriously had been nothing but child's play. What she felt now were the emotions of a grown woman, and they were more powerful than she could ever have imagined. During the many hours she'd spent pondering since that morning, she had occasionally been clear-sighted enough to understand that a longing for forbidden fruit was largely responsible for the heat in her breast. Nevertheless the feeling was real, and she was not in the habit of denying herself anything. She was not about to start now, even though she had no precise plan. Only an awareness of what she wanted, and she wanted it now. Consequences were not something she ever took into consideration, and after all, things had always tended to work out for her, so why wouldn't they now?

She did not even entertain the notion that Anders might not want her. To this day she had never met a man who was indifferent to her. Men were like apples on a tree, and she only needed to reach out her hand to pick them, though she was inclined to admit that this apple might present a slightly greater risk than most. She had kissed married men without her father's knowledge, and in some instances had even gone farther than that, but they were all safer than the man she was about to meet. At least they belonged to the same class as she did. Even though it might have initially caused a scandal if her relations with any of them had come out, such affairs would have been regarded with a certain indulgence. But a man from the working class. A stonecutter. No one even dared think such a thought. It simply would never occur to them.

But she was tired of men from her own class. Spineless, pale, with limp handshakes and shrill voices. None of them was a man in the same way as the man she was about to meet. She shivered when she remembered the feeling of his callused hand against hers.

It hadn't been easy to find out where he lived. Not without arousing suspicion. But a glance at the wage slips during an unguarded moment had provided his address, and then she had been able to work out which room was his by peering in the windows.

The first pebble produced no response, and she waited a moment, afraid of waking the old landlady. But no one moved inside the house. She paused to preen in the ethereal moonlight. She had chosen simple, dark clothing so as not to emphasize the difference in their social standing. For that reason she had also plaited her hair and wound it atop her head in one of the simple hairdos that were common among the working-class women. Pleased with the result, she picked up another pebble from the gravel walkway and tossed it against the window. Now she saw a shadow moving inside, and her heart skipped a beat. The euphoria of the chase pumped adrenaline into her body, and Agnes felt her cheeks flush. When he opened the window, puzzled, she sneaked behind the lilac bush that partly covered the window and took a deep breath. The hunt was on.

It was with a heaviness in both his heart and his step that Patrik left Mellberg's office. What a damned old fool! That was the thought that immediately popped into his mind. He understood quite well that the superintendent had forced Ernst on him merely out of spite. If it wasn't so bloody tragic it would almost be comical. How stu pid. Patrik went into Martin's office, his body language signalling that things hadn't gone the way they had imagined.

'What did he say?' asked Martin with dark foreboding in his voice.

'Unfortunately he can't spare you. You have to keep working on some car-theft mess. But he apparently has no problem getting along without Ernst.'

'You're kidding,' Martin said in a low voice, since Patrik hadn't closed the door behind him. 'You and Lundgren are going to work together?'

Patrik nodded gloomily. 'Looks that way. If we knew who the killer was we could send him a telegram and congratulate him. This investigation is going to be hopelessly sunk if I can't keep him out of it as much as possible.'

'Well, shit!' said Martin, and Patrik could do nothing but agree. Alter a moment's silence he slapped his hands on his thighs and mood up, trying to muster a little enthusiasm.

'I suppose there's nothing for it but to get to work.'

'Where did you intend to start?'

'Well, the first thing will be to inform the girl's parents about the recent developments and cautiously try to ask a few questions.'

'Are you taking Ernst along?' Martin asked sceptically.

'No, I think I'll try to slip off by myself. Hopefully I can wait to inform him about his change of assignment until a little later.'

But when he came out in the corridor he realized that Mellberg had foiled his plans.

'Hedström!' Ernst's voice, whiny and loud, grated on his ears.

For an instant Patrik considered running back into Martin's office to hide, but he resisted this childish impulse. At least one person on this newly formed police team would have to behave like a grownup.

'Over here!' He waved to Lundgren, who came steaming towards him. Tall and thin, and with a perpetually grumpy expression on his face, Ernst was not a pretty sight. What he was best at was kissing up and kicking down. He had neither the temperament nor the ability for regular police work. And after the incident of the past summer, Patrik considered his colleague downright dangerous because of his foolhardiness and desire to show off. And now he was forced to be partners with Lundgren. With a deep sigh he went to meet him.

'I just talked to Mellberg. He said the little girl was murdered and that we're going to lead the investigation together.'

Patrik looked nervous. He sincerely hoped that Mellberg hadn't decided to subvert his authority behind his back.

'What I think Mellberg said was that I'm going to lead the investigation and you're going to work with me. Isn't that right?' said Patrik in a voice soft as velvet.

Lundgren looked down, but not fast enough for Patrik to miss a quick glimpse of loathing in his eyes. He had taken a gamble, but apparently it had worked. 'Yes, I suppose that's right,' Ernst said crossly. 'Well, where do we start – boss?' He said the last word with deep contempt, and Patrik clenched his fists in frustration. After five minutes of this partnership he already wanted to throttle the fellow.

'Come on, let's go into my office.' He led the way and sat down behind the desk. Ernst sat down in the visitor's chair with his long legs stuck out in front of him.

Ten minutes later Ernst had been brought up to speed on all the information, and they grabbed their jackets to drive over to the house where Sara's parents lived.

The drive to Fjällbacka took place in total silence. Neither of them had anything to say to the other. When they turned up the hill and into the family's driveway Patrik recognized the pram standing outside. His first thought was: oh shit! But he quickly revised his reaction. It might be good for the family if Erica was I here. At least for Charlotte. She was the one he was most worried about; he had no idea how she was going to take the news they were bringing. People responded so differently. He had actually met relatives who thought it was better that their loved one had been murdered than that the death was accidental. It gave them someone to blame, and they were able to centre their grief on something specific. But he didn't know if that was how Sara's parents would react.

With Ernst at his heels Patrik went up to the front door and knocked cautiously. Charlotte's mother opened it, and he could see that she was upset. Her face was flushed, and her eyes had a glint of steel that made Patrik hope he never had to cross her.

When she recognized Patrik she made a visible effort to control herself and instead put on an inquiring expression.

'The police?' she said, stepping aside to let them in.

Patrik was just about to introduce his colleague when Ernst said: 'We've met.' He nodded to Lilian, who nodded back.

Well, well, Patrik thought. Of course with the number of police reports flying back and forth between Lilian and the next-door neighbour, most people at the station should have met her by now. But today they were here on a more serious errand than a petty dispute between neighbours.

'May we come in for a moment?' Patrik asked. Lilian nodded and led them into the kitchen, where Niclas was sitting at the table. He too had the flush of anger on his cheeks. Patrik looked around for Charlotte and Erica. Niclas noticed and said, 'Erica is helping Charlotte take a shower.'

'How is Charlotte doing?' Patrik asked as Lilian poured coffee for him and Ernst and placed the cups in front of them on the kitchen table.

'She's been completely out of it. But it worked wonders for Erica to come over. It's the first time Charlotte's been able to get up and take a shower and change her clothes since…' he hesitated, 'it happened.'

Patrik was wrestling with himself. Should he speak to Niclas and Lilian in private and ask Erica to break the news to Charlotte, or was she strong enough to join them? He decided on the latter option. If she was on her feet now, and also had the support of the family, then it ought to go all right. And Niclas was a doctor, after all.

'Why exactly are you here?' said Niclas in confusion, giving first Ernst and then Patrik a puzzled look.

'I think we should wait until Charlotte can join us.'

Both Lilian and Niclas seemed content to wait but they exchanged a hasty, inscrutable glance. Five minutes passed in silence. Small talk would have felt out of place under the circumstances.

Patrik looked around the kitchen. It was pleasant enough but obviously the domain of a world-class obsessive-compulsive. Everything was sparkling clean and arranged in straight lines. A bit different than his and Erica's kitchen, he mused, where there was most often total chaos in the sink while the dustbin overflowed with packaging from frozen meals that could be heated in the microwave. Then he heard a door open, and there stood Erica holding Maja asleep in one arm. Beside her stood Charlotte, fresh from the shower. The astonished look on Erica's face quickly changed to concern, and she slipped her other hand under Charlotte's elbow to guide her friend to a kitchen chair. Patrik didn't know how Charlotte had looked before, but now she had a little colour in her face and her eyes were clear and alert.

'What are you doing here?' Charlotte asked in a voice that was still hoarse from several days spent alternating between shrieks and silence. She looked at Niclas, who shrugged his shoulders to indicate that he didn't know either.

'We wanted to wait for you before we…' Patrik's words failed him as he searched for a good way to present what he had to say. Thankfully Ernst kept his mouth shut and let Patrik handle the situation.

'We've received some new information about Sara's death.'

'You've found out something else about the accident? What is it?' said Lilian excitedly.

'It looks as though it wasn't an accident.'

'What do you mean? Why wouldn't it look like an accident?' said Niclas in obvious frustration.

'It wasn't an accident at all. Sara was murdered.'

'Murdered? What do you mean? She drowned, didn't she?' Charlotte look confused, and Erica grabbed her hand. Maja was still asleep in Erica's arms, unaware of what was playing out around her.

'She was drowned, but not in the sea. The medical examiner found no seawater in her lungs as he'd expected. It was fresh water, apparently from a bathtub.'

The silence around the table felt explosive. Patrik looked with concern at Charlotte, and Erica fixed her big eyes on her husband's face, obviously alarmed.

Patrik understood that the family was in shock, and he began cautiously asking questions to bring them back to reality. Right now he thought that was the best approach. Or at least he hoped it was. In any case, that was his job, and for the sake of both Sara and her family he had to get on with the interview.

'So now we need to go over in detail the chronology of everything Sara did that morning. Which of you saw her last?'

'I did,' said Lilian. 'I saw her last. Charlotte was lying down in I he basement resting, and Niclas had driven off to work, so I was taking care of Sara for a while. Just after nine she said she was going over to Frida's house. She put on her coat and went out. She waved as she left,' said Lilian in an empty, mechanical tone of voice.

'Could you be more precise than just past nine o'clock? Was it twenty after? Five after? How close to nine was it? Every minute will have to be accounted for,' said Patrik.

Lilian thought it over. 'I suppose it was about ten after nine. But I can't say for sure.'

'Okay, we'll check and see if any of the neighbours saw anything, no maybe we can get the time corroborated.' He made a note in his book and went on: 'And after that no one saw her?'

They shook their heads.

Ernst asked brusquely, 'So what were the rest of you doing at that time?'

Patrik cringed inside and cursed his colleague's less than sensitive interviewing technique.

'What Ernst means is that procedural routine requires us to ask both you and Charlotte the same thing, Niclas. Purely routine, as I said, just to be able to rule you out as suspects as quickly as possible.'

His attempt to dilute the impact of his colleague's question seemed to work. Both Niclas and Charlotte replied without showing great emotional distress, and they seemed to accept Patrik's explanation for this uncomfortable question.

'I was at the clinic,' said Niclas. 'I start work at eight.'

'And you, Charlotte?' Patrik asked.

'As Mother said, I was lying down in the basement, resting. I had a migraine,' she replied in a surprised voice. As if she were shocked that a couple of days earlier she could have viewed that as a big problem in her life.

'Stig was at home too. He was upstairs resting. He's been bedridden for a couple of weeks,' Lilian explained. She seemed annoyed that Patrik and Ernst dared to ask about her family's activities.

'Ah yes, Stig, we'll need to talk to him too eventually, but that can wait a bit,' said Patrik, who had to admit that he had completely forgotten about Lilian's husband.

A long silence followed. There was the shriek of a child from another room, and Lilian got up to go and fetch Albin. Like Maja he had slept through all the commotion. He still looked half asleep and wore his usual serious expression as Lilian carried him into the kitchen. She sat down on her chair again and let her grandson play with the gold chain she wore round her neck.

Ernst took a breath and seemed about to ask some more questions, but a warning glance from Patrik made him stop. Patrik continued instead, cautiously. 'Can you think of anyone at all who you think might have wanted to harm Sara?'

Charlotte gave him an incredulous look and said in her hoarse voice, 'Who would want to hurt Sara? She was only seven years old.' Her voice broke, but she was making an obvious effort to control herself.

'So none of you can think of any motive? Nobody who wanted to hurt you, nothing like that?'

That last question prompted Lilian to speak. The red patches of linger she'd had on her face when they arrived flared up again.

'Somebody who wanted to hurt us? I should say so. There's only one person who fits that description, and that's our neighbour Kaj. He hates our family and has done everything to make our life a living hell for years!'

'Don't be stupid, Mamma,' said Charlotte. 'You and Kaj have been fighting with each other for years, and why would he want to hurt Sara?'

'That man is capable of anything. He's a psychopath, I have to tell you. And take a closer look at his son Morgan. He's not right in the head, and people like that are capable of anything. Just look at all those psychos that have been let back out on the streets and what they've done. He'd be locked up if anyone had any sense!'

Niclas put his hand on her arm to calm her down, but it had no effect. Albin whimpered when he heard the tone of their voices.

'Kaj hates me, simply because he's finally met somebody who dares to contradict him. He thinks he's a big shot just because he was the manager of a company and has plenty of money. That's why he and his wife can move here and everyone in town treats them like some sort of royalty. He's totally inconsiderate, so I wouldn't put anything past him.'

'Stop it, Mamma!' Charlotte's voice now had a new sharpness to it, and she glared at her mother. 'Don't go making a scene.'

Her daughter's outburst made Lilian stop talking. She clenched her jaws hard with anger, but she didn't dare contradict her daughter.

'So,' Patrik hesitated, a bit shocked by Lilian's vehement remarks, 'besides your neighbour you can't think of anyone who has anything against your family?'

They all shook their heads. He closed up his notebook.

'Well then, we have no more questions for the time being. Once again, I just want to say that I'm truly sorry for your loss.'

Niclas nodded and got up to show the policemen out. Patrik turned to Erica.

'Are you staying, or would you like a lift home?'

With her eyes fixed on Charlotte, Erica replied, 'I'll be here for a while yet.'

Outside the front door Patrik paused to take a deep breath.

Stig could hear voices rising and falling downstairs. He wondered who had come to visit. As usual nobody bothered to inform him about what was going on. But maybe that was just as well. To be honest he didn't know whether he could handle all the details about what had happened. In a way it was nicer to lie up here in bed, in his private cocoon, and let his mind process in peace and quiet all the feelings that Sara's death had provoked. His illness somehow made it strangely easier for him to deal with the grief. The physical pain was always assaulting his consciousness and pushing away some of the emotional torment.

With an effort Stig turned over in bed and stared blankly at the wall. He had loved the girl as if she were his own granddaughter. Naturally he saw that she could be difficult and moody, but never when she came up to see him. It was as if she instinctively sensed the full extent of the illness that was ravaging his body. She showed respect for both him and his illness. She was probably the only one who knew what a bad state he was in. With the others he made every effort not to show how great the pain was. Both his father and grandfather had died a miserable and humiliating death in a crowded hospital room, and that was a fate he intended to do everything to avoid. So to Lilian and Niclas he always managed to call up his last reserves of energy and put on a relatively controlled facade. And the illness seemed to be doing its part to help him stay out of the hospital. At intervals he would get better, perhaps feeling a little weaker and more tired than usual, but fully capable of functioning in everyday circumstances. But he always took sick again and ended up back in bed for a couple of weeks. Niclas had begun to look more and more concerned, but thank goodness Lilian had so far managed to convince him that it was best for Stig to be at home.

She was truly a gift from God. Of course they'd had their clashes during the more than six years they'd been married, and sometimes she could be a very hard woman, but the best and most lender side of her seemed to come out in caring for him. Since he'd taken ill they had lived in an exceedingly symbiotic relationship. She loved taking care of him, and he loved having her do it. Now he had a hard time imagining that they had been so close Id going their separate ways. There was nothing so bad that it didn't bring some good with it, he always told himself. But that was before the worst of all possible evils had befallen them. And he couldn't find anything good in that.

The girl had understood the state he was in. Her soft hand on his cheek had left a warmth that he could feel even now. She would sit on the edge of his bed and tell him about everything that had happened that day, and he would nod and listen intently. He didn't treat her like a child, but as an equal. She had appreciated that.

That she was gone was inconceivable.

He closed his eyes and let a strong new wave of pain carry him away.