The other two occasions were when she locked Emee in the surgery during the information meeting, and after she fell asleep in the coach house. There is no source of glycol in either of those locations.
Could someone have deliberately poisoned Emee? She can’t shake off the thought.
She tries calling David, leaves a message when he doesn’t answer.
Hubert hands her a cup of coffee and sits down beside her.
‘I used to have an animal I loved too,’ he says after they’ve sat in silence for a while. ‘Nelson. A pure-bred Arabian. He was wild and hard to handle, but I loved riding him. He made me feel strong, invincible.’ He pauses, lost in his memories. Then he straightens up.
‘Would you like another coffee? Something to eat? I can go and look for somewhere that’s open.’
She shakes her head. ‘What happened to Nelson?’
‘Another time. It’s not the right story to tell you just now.’
She places a hand on his arm. ‘What happened?’
He sighs, gives in.
‘Father sent me away to say with relatives in England. Just after I left, Nelson injured his leg. Father . . .’ Hubert takes a deep breath, eyes shining with unshed tears. ‘He shot him. Per Nyberg was there, he told me that Father did it himself. Led Nelson behind the stable and shot him in the forehead. Had the body collected and incinerated that same afternoon.’
Hubert shakes his head slowly.
‘My father was a hard man. He had no patience with weakness.’ He gives a wry smile. ‘I warned you it wasn’t the right story for tonight.’
‘You did.’
Thea’s body feels heavy. She closes her eyes, tries not to think about Emee, fighting for her life along the corridor. About Margaux.
How about calling her Emee? She can be our own little ghost. Yours and mine, ma chère.
‘What was your father like?’ Hubert asks.
‘He was a complete bastard,’ she murmurs.
‘What did he do?’
She opens her eyes. Realises what she’s said. ‘Nothing. Forget it.’
The nurse reappears, her expression grave. An abyss opens up in Thea’s midriff. She gets to her feet, holding her breath.
‘You were right, it was glycol poisoning,’ the nurse says. ‘We’ve pumped her stomach and given her Fomepizol. At the moment it seems to be working; that trick with the vodka probably saved her life. However, I wouldn’t recommend trying it.’
The relief is so great that Thea almost bursts into tears, but she manages to compose herself.
‘When can we take her home?’
‘It’s too early to say. Go home and get some sleep. Call in the morning and we’ll be able to give you more information.’
*
David calls when they’re in the car. It’s just after five; Hubert is driving, because Thea still feels shaky.
‘I just picked up your message – how is she?’
‘OK. She’s going to make it.’
‘What was wrong with her?’
‘Glycol poisoning.’
‘What? How the hell did she get hold of glycol?’
‘I don’t know. Do we have any in the house or at the castle?’
‘Not as far as I’m aware.’
They end the call with exaggerated warmth, as if neither of them wants to acknowledge last night’s quarrel.
‘I have a question,’ she says to Hubert after a little while. ‘You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.’
‘Go on.’
‘Did you know Elita Svart?’
The silence is a fraction too long.
‘Yes.’
‘How?’
‘We bumped into each other occasionally in the forest. Her father was one of our tenants.’
‘What was she like?’
Another silence.
‘Elita was . . . different.’
‘In what way?’
Hubert shrugs. ‘Hard to explain. She looked at life in her own particular way, if I can put it like that.’
‘Do you believe it was Leo who killed her?’
‘I don’t know anything about that. I was in England when Elita . . .’ He breaks off, as if the words won’t come out.
‘I’ve been to Svartgården,’ Thea says.
‘Why?’
‘Because I was curious, I guess. I’m trying to understand what happened.’
‘I thought it was all pretty clear?’
‘Yes, but there are a few anomalies.’
‘Like what?’
For a moment she considers telling him what she found at Arne’s house, and her suspicions, but she decides to hold back. There is another aspect of the mystery that he might be able to help with. Three pieces of the puzzle that don’t quite fit.
‘Elita’s family. They vanished without a trace, and your father had the house boarded up and the track destroyed the very next day.’
Hubert nods slowly.
‘My father and Lasse Svart had been at loggerheads for years. Lasse had been given notice to quit before Elita died. My father made sure they couldn’t come back.’
‘That’s a harsh way to treat a grieving family.’
Hubert shrugs. ‘As I said, my father was a hard man.’
His tone indicates that he’d like to drop the subject. Thea waits, hoping he’ll change his mind and go on, but the moment seems to have passed.
She gazes out of the window, then asks: ‘Are you invited to the preview dinner?’
‘Mm.’
‘Are you coming?’
He shakes his head. ‘I’m not very good with people. I prefer to keep myself to myself.’
Thea is disappointed. The dinner is David’s project, and it would have been nice to have someone there who was more like a friend of hers.
*
When they reach the castle, he gets out of the car and she moves across to the driver’s seat.
‘Thank you so much, Hubert. If you hadn’t helped me, Emee wouldn’t have . . .’
He waves a dismissive hand.
‘We Stanley Kunitz fans must stick together.’
He stops at the corner of the west wing and raises a hand in farewell before going inside.
Suddenly it’s as if something clicks in Thea’s mind. The sound of a piece of the puzzle falling into place.
72
T
hea runs into the coach house, kicks off her boots and drops her jacket on the sofa. The poetry book is on her bedside table.
She picks it up, sits down at the desk, then finds Elita’s letter in the case file. She follows the text with her index finger until she finds the right section.
I’m sure you’ve heard about the other girls who died in the forest. Isabelle who drowned in the moat, and Eleonor who fell off her horse and broke her neck.
Soon it will be Elita’s turn.
Beautiful women dead that by my side. Once lay.
Isn’t that lovely?
There’s something appealing about dying when you’re at your most beautiful, don’t you think?
She reads the awkward sentence once again.
Beautiful women dead that by my side. Once lay.
Thea leafs through the poetry book, finds a page with the corner turned down. The poem is called ‘I Dreamed That I was Old’. She’s read it a few times; it’s sad. It’s about a man dreaming of his old age, thinking of everything he’s lost.
Almost at the bottom of the page she finds the lines she’s looking for.
And cozy women dead that by my side / Once lay.
The wording is almost identical. She picks up her phone, brings up the pictures she took at Svartgården. Works backwards from the bloody handprint and the empty dressing packet until she reaches Elita’s room. The space under the bed where Elita’s suitcase had been stored. The pile of books next to it. She enlarges the image, her fingers trembling with excitement.
There it is, third from the bottom. The same title as the book in fr
ont of her on the desk. Selected Poems by Stanley Kunitz.
Elita has read it too; she even tried to translate one of the poems into Swedish. Where did a sixteen-year-old girl get a book of poems written in English by an American?
We bumped into each other in the forest occasionally.
Elita was . . . different.
She leans back, presses her fingertips against her eyelids.
Elita must have got the book from Hubert. She even mentions his relatives in the same section – Isabelle and Eleonor. The dead girls.
She opens the book again, reads the inscription.
The strongest love is unrequited love.
Is he talking about Elita? Was Hubert in love with Elita? The thought is dizzying; it puts everything in a new light.
At that moment her phone rings. Unknown number. Thea rejects the call, but whoever is trying to contact her refuses to give up, and in the end she answers.
‘Hi, Jenny, it’s your father.’
‘I can’t talk now – I’m afraid it’s not convenient.’
Her head is all over the place, and she can’t cope with his mind games right now.
‘That’s a shame. I actually called to apologise.’ His voice is subdued, without the usual sarcastic undertone.
‘Really?’ She doesn’t know what to think.
‘Our last conversation didn’t end well, so I thought I’d offer an olive branch. If you’re interested.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘OK, so I asked around about Leo Rasmussen. A former colleague of mine has a nephew, Dejan, who was apparently Leo’s cellmate in Stålboda in the late Eighties. Dejan is a bright guy with a fantastic memory for detail. It was his first stint inside, so it’s not surprising that he remembers it.’
Thea picks up a pen.
‘According to Dejan, Leo kept himself to himself. Behaved impeccably, was always polite to the guards, worked out every day. Dejan said he didn’t exactly come across as a killer, whatever that means. In my humble opinion anyone can become a killer in the wrong circumstances.’ He breaks off to cough.
‘Did Leo talk about what he’d done?’ Thea asks.
‘No, apparently he preferred to avoid the topic. He didn’t boast about it, but nor did he insist he was innocent.’
A fresh bout of coughing; she can hear his chest rattling.
‘Anyway, Leo told Dejan that he was planning to go abroad as soon as he was released. He said there was money waiting for him – enough to make a fresh start.’
‘Where was this money coming from?’
‘I asked the same question, but Dejan didn’t know. Leo seems to have said too much on one occasion, then closed up like a clam, so Dejan assumed there was something shady about the whole thing.’
‘Did he know where Leo went?’
‘They both enjoyed fishing, and talked about going on a fishing trip to Alaska. Typical prison plans, I’d say – a dream to keep you going from one day to the next.’ He clears his throat. ‘Although they both realised the Americans would never let them in with their criminal records. Leo thought they might be able to get into Canada.’
‘Canada?’
‘That’s what Dejan said. Or rather, this is what he actually said: If the guy’s still alive and doesn’t live in Sweden, I’d look for him in Canada.’
Thea thinks for a moment. Kurt Bexell thought he’d called Leo on an American number, but she’s pretty sure that Canada and the USA have the same international dialling code, so he could have been wrong.
‘Did Dejan say anything else about Leo?’
‘No, that was all. To be honest it was more than I’d hoped for. I also asked a contact in the police to do some checking, and Leo hasn’t set foot in Sweden since he got out of jail – at least not under his own name. According to the tax office, he’s listed as emigrated, address unknown.’
‘OK.’
‘OK? Is that all I get?’
She takes a deep breath.
‘Thanks, Leif.’
‘You’re welcome.’
He ends the call and Thea sits there with the phone in her hand, his words echoing inside her head.
Leo was expecting money. Enough to enable him to leave the country, start afresh somewhere else.
Money from whom? For what?
73
‘I’m sinking deeper and deeper into this story, Margaux. Being dragged down into the mud. Back to where I once came from.
‘The question is – will I ever get out again?’
J
ust after nine she calls the veterinary hospital. Emee’s condition is stable, but the vet wants to keep her in for a couple of days just to be on the safe side. He wonders whether Thea has any idea how Emee came to ingest glycol, but she doesn’t have an answer. She’s thought about it, but hasn’t come up with anything. The forest is still the most likely location, but she remembers that Emee seemed anxious when she returned to the surgery after the information meeting. The door was locked, but she already knows she’s not the only one who has a key.
Could someone really be so cruel as to try and kill her dog? She gives herself a mental shake and goes back to where she was before her father called.
Hubert Gordon was in love with Elita. He gave her his favourite poetry collection, in spite of the fact that Elita was four years younger than him, and came from a family that his father would never accept. Could Hubert have been the father of her unborn child? Thea finds that hard to believe. It seems more likely to have been something else – unrequited love, rejection, jealousy?
She has to find out more.
*
Thea takes the poetry book and heads for the castle. It’s a complete circus over there, with at least a dozen cars and vans and twice as many people carrying supplies into the east wing.
David is in the middle of the kitchen, waving his hands and yelling orders in all directions. He stops as soon as he sees her.
‘There you are – how’s Emee?’
‘Better, but they’re keeping her in for a little while.’
‘That’s fantastic!’ He spreads his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t answer the phone last night – I didn’t hear it.’
A lie. David sleeps with his phone virtually under his pillow.
‘I was right outside the castle, sounding the horn and flashing the headlights.’
‘Were you? I must have been in a really deep sleep.’
Another lie. In David’s case they’re pretty easy to spot, because he’s better at lying than telling the truth.
‘You weren’t there, were you? You slept somewhere else.’
He moves closer, places a hand on her shoulder. Looks around, worried that someone will have heard her.
‘We’ll sort everything out as soon as the dinner is over,’ he says quietly. ‘No more secrets. You can ask me whatever you like, but please help me to get us through this first.’
He smiles, tries to make her do the same.
‘OK.’
Through the window, almost opposite the stone steps, she sees a group of men building a Walpurgis Night bonfire. One of them is Little Stefan; he’s erecting a familiar T-shaped frame in the middle of the bonfire.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s Walpurgis Night – obviously we’re having a bonfire.’
‘And will you be burning the Green Man?’
‘It was Mum’s idea. She’s got some local experts to make an effigy for us. It’ll be here in a few hours – it’s going to be brilliant!’
David is pretending that everything is fine. He almost succeeds, but not quite.
Walpurgis Night is here at last. Nature is hungry, and the Green Man is riding through the forests.
And nothing will ever be the same again.
*
Thea heads for the west wing and uses the heavy knocker on Hubert’s door. He doesn’t answer. The car is there, so she knows he’s home. She tries again, knocks a little louder this time. She sudde
nly feels nervous. It’s only a few hours since they were sitting in the same car, and yet it’s as if the way she looks at him has changed.
She knocks again; he appears after the fourth attempt, an irritated furrow between his eyebrows. Maybe he was lying down, recovering from last night’s adventures.
‘Hi – sorry to disturb you. Were you sleeping?’ She makes an effort to sound normal.
Hubert shakes his head.
Thea holds out the poetry book. ‘I just wanted to return this. I think I’ve worked out which is your favourite.’
‘Oh yes?’
‘“I Dreamed That I was Old”.’
‘Good guess.’
She wants to ask about Elita, whether the unrequited love he wrote about in the inscription refers to her, but then she realises he still hasn’t invited her in. He also seems uneasy, almost as if he’s been caught out doing something he shouldn’t.
She looks over his shoulder and up the stairs. The door of the chapel is open. He follows her gaze.
‘If there’s nothing else, I’m a little tired . . .’ He begins to close the door, which piques her curiosity.
‘I wanted to ask you . . .’
He stops.
‘Won’t you come to the dinner? Please? Give me a chance to thank you for your help with Emee?’
The frown disappears. ‘Have you heard any more from the hospital?’
‘I can bring her home in a couple of days.’
‘That’s great.’ His relief seems genuine.
‘So how about it? Will you come? Please say yes!’
She manages to coax a smile out of him.
‘OK, I’ll come.’
‘Brilliant – see you there.’
The door closes with a heavy, metallic thud that echoes through the building.
74
‘Things have been set in motion, Margaux. It’s as if we’re waiting for something. A spark that will ignite the bonfire.’
T
hea is putting on her make-up in front of the bathroom mirror. She’s picked out a dress that she knows David likes.
And yet it’s not him she’s thinking about. Her head is buzzing, there are more questions now, not fewer. The puzzle fills her mind.
Where did the money come from that Leo used to move overseas? Was it a bribe, or maybe some kind of compensation? What happened to the rest of his family? And where does Hubert Gordon fit into the picture?
Rites of Spring Page 30
