‘But Barbara, dear, it is your job to deal with that sort of thing. That’s what you get paid for. Surely you haven’t forgotten your job description: “to see to the welfare and well-being of the old pensioners”?’
‘But not criminals!’
‘They have atoned for their crime and have every right to return to society. Now we shall show how well we take care of the poor old outcasts. We shall give them all the care and support they need.’
‘But they did actually run away.’
‘Yes, precisely. Take care of them, sweetie, give them tender care. Care, you see, is the word the council wants to hear.’
‘What?’ Nurse Barbara gasped for breath. ‘But weren’t we meant to cut costs?’
‘A warm word, a loving pat of the hand … that doesn’t cost anything. As long as the press keeps an eye on us, we shall be perfect. Our retirement home must be a model of excellence. This will be a perfect model for when I open our new retirement homes. I have two deals coming along and there is a lot to do. We need to rationalize. I thought that you could prepare the transaction and take care of the administration. Meanwhile, Katia can take over Diamond House.’
‘Are you suggesting I give up Diamond House?’ A thousand thoughts rushed through Barbara’s head. Had she really heard that correctly?
‘No, no, just for the time being. Don’t think too much about it, darling. Soon you will have a top management position. Three retirement homes will mean more profit than one, and now that I am going to get divorced I’ll need the money. Then, dearest, you’ll want to join me in all this, surely? I need more people in management. As partners. You and me.’
He hugged her and she forgot everything else. He had at last spoken of divorce and indicated a future for them together. When he put his arms around her and whispered hot words in her ear, she pressed the palm of her hand against his chest and whispered: ‘Soon, Ingmar, soon it’ll just be us.’
Sixty-One
‘Now here we are, back again. I can’t believe it,’ said Anna-Greta, pushing aside the gauze on her hat and looking around her. In the lounge, the old guys were relaxing as usual with a game of chess, Dolores was dozing in her armchair and two older women that she hadn’t seen before were knitting socks.
‘Don’t people say that the elderly should have peace and quiet? We have been moved from prison to prison only to finally end up back at square one again!’ Christina sighed. ‘To think that we’ve landed here. What an anti-climax.’
‘Now, now. Don’t forget the Grand Hotel. You wouldn’t want to have missed that, would you? And this is just temporary. Very temporary,’ said Martha and winked.
‘I don’t understand why they are letting us come back. We are a bad influence on the others,’ neighed Anna-Greta.
‘Diamond House has, for some reason, specifically requested to have us back. The alternative was a placement without Brains and Rake, and we don’t want that, do we? And how would Gunnar find you then?’
‘He will always find me,’ Anna-Greta protested and looked insulted.
‘Be that as it may, this will be a good base for our activities until we find our own solution,’ said Martha, winking again.
They all smiled, and they were indeed pleased to see their rooms, where they had once made a home for themselves and knew where everything was.
‘So this is to be our general headquarters when we plan. Is that how you envisage it, Martha?’ Christina asked.
‘Yes, indeed. We can have meetings here and lay out our plans. Who would suspect a criminal HQ in an old people’s home?’
They put their suitcases in their rooms, tidied themselves up and then went into the general lounge to have a little chat with the others. They had arrived just in time for afternoon coffee and discovered to their surprise that some Danish pastries and three sorts of biscuits were served with it. Katia had evidently come back.
‘I understand that some things happened here that you didn’t like,’ said Katia, sitting down next to them. ‘But now Barbara has been given other duties.’
‘About time too. We were locked in like at a kindergarten,’ said Anna-Greta.
‘That will be changed. Just tell reception when you want to go out so that we know where you are.’
‘Excellent!’ Martha blurted out with decidedly imprudent speed.
‘I also understood that you have made some proposals for improvements.’
‘Yes, but nobody has paid any attention to them,’ said Christina.
‘I shall look at them,’ said Katia.
Martha and the others looked at each other. This was incredible. Would they suddenly find themselves comfortable in the home just now when they had something else in the offing? If Martha had interpreted Brains’s poems correctly, things were getting very hot. The ultimate crime of their dreams. He and Rake would arrive any day, and then she would find out more. First of all was the question of the paintings. They must get hold of one hundred thousand by 30 October.
A few days later, they discussed the matter over a cup of tea in Martha’s room.
‘I do have my savings—even though most of them were spent on the hotel and the cruise trip to Helsinki, of course,’ said Anna-Greta. ‘We can use them for the time being until things get sorted out.’
Martha almost choked on her cake, coughed and stared at her friend.
‘Without interest?’
Anna-Greta dismissed that comment with a wave of her hand.
‘I’ll transfer the money to your accounts so that the withdrawals won’t look suspiciously large,’ she went on. ‘Then we will go to the bank together and withdraw the money. It’s as easy as that.’ She lit a cigarillo. ‘It’s so fantastic with the Internet. You only have to click and everything is arranged.’
‘Yes, computers are fantastic inventions, Anna-Greta …’
‘I can understand that you are surprised about the money, but Gunnar has said that one should live in the present. When you are as old as we are, you must do whatever you can to have a good time. Then you’ll have a richer life.’
‘I see, that’s how it is,’ said Christina, who was just as astonished as Martha. But when the friends had managed to remove the expressions from their faces, they thanked Anna-Greta profusely for helping them in an awkward situation. Then they wondered if she might be so kind as to extinguish her cigarillo.
When it became clear that Anna-Greta would fork out the hundred thousand for the reward, a pleasant calm settled over them all. They drank their tea with cloudberry liqueur in Martha’s room and babbled happily about all that had happened to them so far, until Anna-Greta got up saying she had more important things to do.
‘The bank transfers, you know,’ she said in a solemn voice, making it clear that she did not wish to be disturbed. Then all evening she sat in front of her computer and arranged all the money transfers on the Internet. Slowly and conscientiously she divided the money between herself, Christina and Martha, and at breakfast the next day she proudly announced that it was now time to take a taxi to the bank.
There were a lot of people at the bank and the friends walked back and forth quite a long time until it was finally Anna-Greta’s turn. She waved to them to follow her and they went up to the counter. Martha whispered that it would look suspicious if they all trotted up at once, but Anna-Greta insisted. ‘It’s my money, and I decide.’
The teller flashed them a sunny smile when they came tottering across with their walkers, but she paled when she saw their withdrawal slips.
‘We don’t have that much money here.’
‘Oh yes you do. I phoned in advance. You have to when you want to withdraw large sums of money nowadays,’ said Anna-Greta.
The teller hesitated, excused herself and disappeared to consult a colleague. A few moments later, she returned and looked with regret at Anna-Greta.
‘Unfortunately, there is a little problem. There isn’t enough money in the account.’
‘Don’t try that. I transferred money
from my savings account on the Internet yesterday. That’s what you encourage us to do. You don’t want us coming into the bank, do you? Please go and look yourself how much money I have in my savings accounts.’
‘Something must have gone wrong, unfortunately. There is nothing there.’
‘But I took my mouse and clicked,’ Anna-Greta protested.
‘You did what?’
‘MY MOUSE, I said,’ Anna-Greta shouted.
Martha noticed how the teller tried to remain serious.
‘It can be difficult using the Internet sometimes,’ the teller said, trying to calm her.
‘You think that I can’t use my mouse just because I’m older than you?’ Anna-Greta hissed.
From inside the office laughter could be heard and the teller discreetly covered her mouth with her hand.
‘We had some computer problems yesterday. The transfers might not have been registered. We’ll have to check that,’ she said.
‘I can tell you that I worked in a bank, and I have been a customer here for forty years too,’ roared Anna-Greta so that the gauze on her hat fluttered. ‘You can’t treat me just any old way!’
Martha watched the drama. No neighing today, indeed. Anna-Greta had produced her glass-breaking voice.
‘If you find it difficult to use a computer, you might prefer to try our telephone service,’ the teller said in an attempt to be friendly.
‘Telephone service? But, my dear, haven’t you wondered why I talk so loudly? I AM HARD OF HEARING,’ she roared.
The lineup behind them had grown and all the chairs were occupied. The door to the office opened and a smartly dressed man hurried up to them.
‘Come back tomorrow, and by then we shall have sorted this out,’ he said politely, handing over a little pen with the bank’s logo on it. Then he bowed and followed them pleasantly but determinedly to the exit.
When the three returned to Diamond House, they were all somewhat low-spirited. Anna-Greta locked herself in her room and didn’t want to talk to anybody, Martha sat in the general lounge and tried to think and Christina filed her nails obsessively. Nobody said anything. The coffee didn’t taste good and neither did the Danish pastries. By the weekend the stroller had to be full of money, otherwise they wouldn’t get the paintings back. Martha sank back in the armchair and closed her eyes. That usually helped when she had a problem to solve, and now they really were in a pickle. She could hear the distant sound of Katia talking on the telephone and some of the old guys chatting about football. Then she heard Katia’s voice again … problems with the Internet … the connection wasn’t working … service … Martha smiled to herself. Good, now she could console Anna-Greta. Then she nodded off and dreamed that she had raided the bank in Ystad. But just as she was about to board the ferry to Poland with all the money, she woke up. The door to Dolores’s room had opened with a crash and the old lady had started her usual walk around the lounge with her trolley in tow.
‘My son is the best there is,’ she hummed with a smile on her face. ‘He has sailed around the world and made me a millionaire.’ Then she pointed at the shopping trolley and laughed. A pink blanket and a sock hung halfway out of the opening and a shawl trailed on the floor. Through the opening you could just glimpse some crumpled-up newspaper.
‘That’s nice, Dolores,’ everybody in the room said.
‘Now he has settled back on land. He wanted to be close to his mother, you see. Yesterday he came home from Helsinki.’ Then she sang a little more and did some additional rounds of the room before sitting at the table and helping herself to a biscuit. Martha liked Dolores, who was always jolly and wished everybody well, but just for the moment she couldn’t cope with her. Martha sank deeper into her armchair and closed her eyes again. The reward. How could they pay that?
Sixty-Two
Martha woke up with a start. She had had yet another strange dream. It was about Dolores walking around with a shopping trolley on a car deck. She walked round and round in circles and sang about her millions. When she went too far along the car ramp and was close to falling into the water, Martha woke up and sat up in bed, confused. It was still dark and dawn was many hours away. But her brain had been working. The shopping trolley and the ferries to Helsinki …
At breakfast, Martha sat down beside Dolores with a cup of tea. They talked about the weather and the food a while until Martha thought the time was ripe.
‘Your son, he has been at sea all his life, did you say?’
‘Yes, all the time. He is so clever. He works on the car deck.’
‘Oh, that’s good. Better than being a captain. Because the captain has such responsibility, and what if the ship runs aground? Then he would be in trouble,’ Martha explained.
‘He has never run aground.’
‘No, I didn’t mean that, Dolores, my dear.’
‘I am not your dear. Just because you get older, you shouldn’t have to be called my dear, should you?’
Martha hesitated. This was not a good start.
‘And it’s even worse when people say old dear, don’t you think?’ she said, trying to appease the older woman.
Dolores didn’t answer her. She had become grumpy. Martha tried again.
‘What a lovely shopping trolley you have, with a blue handle and all.’
‘My son gave it to me. He looks after his old mother, he does that!’
Martha moved a little closer and stole a furtive glance at the trolley. An Urbanista. A black one too, just like the ones they had received the ransom money in. But this one was dirty and scratched, and it had a blue handle. Of course it could have been spray-painted later. The bag itself was shiny on top, as if it had been splashed with oil.
‘Shall we ask Katia to buy a layered cake?’ Martha suggested. ‘A lovely cream layered cake with marzipan?’
‘Cake? No, I’m tired. Now I’m going to my room.’
‘Let me help you …’ Martha said, reaching out along the trolley handle to feel if there was a hole for a reflector arm.
‘Don’t touch my trolley! That’s my money!’ Dolores shouted angrily. She got up, grabbed the trolley and stormed into her room. Everybody smiled indulgently and went back to what they were doing while Martha looked at the closed door, deep in thought.
Dolores didn’t come out all afternoon, and the next morning Katia said she was ill. Nobody was to disturb her. She had asked Katia to phone for her son, and he had promised to come. Then Martha asked first Anna-Greta and later Christina to knock on Dolores’s door to get a closer look at the trolley, but Dolores refused to open it for anyone. Not even Katia was allowed to go in. For the evening meal, a serving trolley with a plate of food was put outside her door, and the next morning everything had been eaten. But Dolores didn’t show herself. Martha sighed. It was all starting to get very complicated, and she really had no idea what she should do.
That night, Martha couldn’t sleep. She must get a look inside that shopping trolley. If Dolores’s son arrived the next day, he might even take it away with him. Before then, she must be certain that the trolley really did have their money in it. Martha still had the master key. Of course, it wasn’t the done thing to break into somebody else’s room, but she could have opened the wrong door by mistake, couldn’t she?
Sleepily, she put her dressing gown on and crept out through the lounge up to Dolores’s door. She felt the door handle and discovered that the door wasn’t locked. She cautiously pushed the door open but then stopped on the threshold. Oh my God, she could hardly see anything; she had forgotten that her night vision wasn’t what it used to be. Silently, she went back into her own room and looked for the cap she had been given by Brains. She fumbled with it for a few moments before getting it to fit and then returned to Dolores’s door. Once inside the room, she closed the door behind her, took a deep breath and pressed the peak of the cap. A weak blueish light spread through the room and ghost-like shadows fluttered on the walls. Martha took a few terrified steps backwards and almost fa
inted with fright before realizing that it was the LED lights that were the cause.
Dolores was asleep and every breath she took ended with a loud, hissing snore. Martha looked around her to find the trolley. Oh damn, it was by the bedside table right next to Dolores’s face. What would they have said at Hinseberg? What is the best way to sneak up on somebody? Martha found it hard to think straight and decided it was best not to think too much at all, but rather just to get on with it. Without a sound, she approached the bed and stretched her hand out towards the trolley. Dolores was breathing deeply but suddenly she turned over so that her nose almost touched the handle of the trolley. Martha halted abruptly, turned off her cap lights and stood completely still. At any moment Dolores might open her eyes and cry out, but soon she started breathing deeply again. When she started snoring once more, Martha finally dared to get hold of the handle and drag the shopping trolley slowly out of the room.
Once back in her own room, Martha parked the trolley and opened the lid. Rarely had she felt so excited. Dolores’s son worked on the Finland ferries and that stain looked like oil. Just think … As she put her hand in, there was a rustling of newspaper and some old blankets fell onto the floor. Impatient, Martha stuck her hand in deeper. She felt even more newspaper and even more blankets. Good God, was this Dolores’s millions?
Martha pulled the crumpled newspaper out and felt deeper down. Still more newspaper, but there seemed to be something else too. Martha’s heart beat faster and now she tipped the rest of the contents onto the floor. Goodness gracious! Five-hundred-kronor banknotes! They poured out, and soon there was money all over the floor. Martha had been right: this was the second shopping trolley! But what should she do with the money now? She looked around her. The duvet cover on her bed! She quickly took out the duvet and started to stuff the cover with banknotes. Armful upon armful disappeared inside the floral cover, and when that was full she started stuffing the pillows. One or two pillow cases ought to suffice for the reward. She put the rest back into the trolley. Dolores must not be allowed to notice anything.
The Little Old Lady Who Broke All the Rules Page 25
