‘Patrik Hedström, Tanum police,’ he said, hoping to keep the conversation brief so that the line wouldn’t be busy if Annika tried to call. Suddenly he froze.
‘Hello, Ragnar.’ He motioned to Paula, who stopped halfway to the car.
‘Yes? I see. Well, we’ve also found out a few things … Of course. We can discuss that when we meet. We could drive out there now. Should we come to your house? Oh, all right. We’ll find it. Right. See you soon.’
He ended the call and looked at Paula. ‘That was Ragnar Lissander. He says he has something to tell us. And something to show us too.’
All the way back from Uddevalla, the name had kept whirling through his mind. Lissander. Why was it so hard to remember where he’d heard that name before? And his former colleague Ernst Lundgren kept turning up in his thoughts too. Somehow the name was linked to him. Approaching the exit to Fjällbacka, Gösta finally came to a decision. He deliberately turned the wheel to the right and got off the motorway.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Martin. ‘I thought we were heading back to the station.’
‘We just need to make a brief stop at someone’s house first.’
‘At someone’s house? Whose house?’
‘Ernst Lundgren’s.’ Gösta shifted down and turned left.
‘Why are we going to see Ernst?’
Gösta told Martin what he’d been thinking about.
‘But you have no idea where you’ve heard that name before?’
‘If I did, I would have told you,’ snapped Gösta. He suspected that Martin thought his age was making him forgetful.
‘Take it easy,’ said Martin. ‘We’ll go over to Ernst’s house and ask him, to see if he can spark your memory. It’s great that he might actually be able to make a positive contribution for a change.’
‘That would be a new development, wouldn’t it?’ Gösta couldn’t help smiling. Like his colleagues, he didn’t have a very high opinion of Ernst’s competence or his personality. At the same time, he didn’t detest him as wholeheartedly as he knew the others did, with the possible exception of Mellberg. After working with Ernst for so long, Gösta had grown used to him. Nor could he ignore the fact that over the years they had shared a good many laughs together. On the other hand, Ernst certainly had a tendency to make a mess of things. Especially the last time he had been part of the investigative team, before he was fired. But maybe he’d actually be of some help this time.
‘Looks like he’s home, anyway,’ said Martin as they pulled up in front of the house.
‘Yes, it does,’ said Gösta, parking the police vehicle next to Ernst’s car.
Ernst opened the door before they even rang the bell. He must have seen them from the kitchen window.
‘How about that? I wasn’t expecting such important visitors,’ he said, letting his former colleagues come in.
Martin looked around. Unlike Gösta, he’d never been to Ernst’s house before, but he was not impressed. Even though he hadn’t kept his own flat very neat when he was a bachelor himself, it had never approached the chaos he saw here. Dishes were piled high in the sink, clothes were scattered everywhere, and the kitchen table looked like it had never been wiped clean.
‘I haven’t got much to offer,’ said Ernst. ‘But I can always come up with a wee dram.’ He reached for a bottle standing on the counter.
‘I’m driving,’ said Gösta.
‘What about you? Looks like you could use a pick-me-up,’ said Ernst, holding out the bottle towards Martin, but he declined.
‘Okay, okay. I can see you’re a couple of teetotallers.’ He poured a healthy shot for himself and gulped it down.
‘All right. Why are you here?’ He sat down on a chair at the table, and his former colleagues followed suit.
‘I’ve been wondering about something that I think you might know about,’ said Gösta.
‘Aha. So that’s it.’
‘It has to do with a name. It sounds familiar to me, and for some reason I keep associating it with you.’
‘Well, we worked together for a lot of years, you and I,’ said Ernst, and he almost sounded on the verge of tears. This was probably not his first drink of the day.
‘Yes, we did,’ said Gösta, nodding. ‘And now I need your help. Are you willing to keep this to yourself or not?’
Ernst thought for a moment. Then he sighed and waved his empty glass.
‘Okay. Shoot.’
‘Do I have your word of honour that whatever I say stays here?’ Gösta stared hard at Ernst, who nodded reluctantly.
‘Okay, okay. Go ahead and ask your question.’
‘We’re investigating the murder of Magnus Kjellner, which I’m sure you’ve heard about. In the process we’ve come across the name Lissander. I don’t know why, but it sounds familiar. And for some reason the name makes me think of you. Do you recognize it?’
Ernst swayed a bit on his chair. There wasn’t a sound in the room as Ernst considered the question while Martin and Gösta both stared at him expectantly.
Suddenly Ernst broke into a smile.
‘Lissander. Of course I recognize that name. Bloody hell!’
They had agreed to meet at the one place that Patrik and Paula were sure they could find in Trollhättan: the McDonald’s right near the bridge. That’s where they’d had lunch only a few hours earlier.
Ragnar Lissander was waiting inside, and Paula sat down next to him as Patrik bought coffee for all of them. Ragnar seemed even more invisible than he had at home. A small, balding man in a beige coat. His hand shook slightly as he accepted the coffee cup, and he was having a hard time looking them in the eye.
‘You wanted to talk to us?’ said Patrik.
‘We … we didn’t really tell you everything.’
Patrik didn’t speak. He was curious to find out how the man was going to explain that they hadn’t mentioned having a daughter.
‘It hasn’t always been easy, you know. We had a daughter. Alice. Christian was about five when she was born, and it wasn’t easy for him. I should have …’ His voice faded, and he took a sip of coffee before continuing. ‘I think he was damaged for life after what he’d been through. I don’t know how much you know about it, but Christian was alone for more than a week with his dead mother. She was mentally ill and couldn’t always take care of him – or herself either. Finally she died in their flat, and Christian wasn’t able to tell anyone. He thought she was just asleep.’
‘Yes, we know about that. We talked to the social welfare authorities and got copies of all the documents relating to the case.’ Patrik heard how formal it sounded when he said ‘the documents’. But that was the only way for him to maintain the necessary distance from the horrible event.
‘Did she die from an overdose?’ asked Paula. They hadn’t had time to read through all the details yet.
‘No, she wasn’t a junkie. She went through bad periods when she drank too much, and she was on prescription drugs, of course. But it was her heart that finally gave out.’
‘Why was that?’ Patrik really didn’t understand.
‘She didn’t take care of herself, and the alcohol and drugs came into the picture too. She was also tremendously obese. She weighed well over three hundred pounds.’
Something began stirring in Patrik’s subconscious. Something that didn’t make sense. But he’d have to think about that later.
‘And then Christian came to live with you?’ said Paula.
‘Yes, then he came to live with us. Iréne was the one who decided we should adopt him. We didn’t seem able to have any children of our own.’
‘But you never did adopt him, right?’ asked Patrik.
‘We probably would have if Iréne hadn’t got pregnant soon afterwards.’
‘That actually happens quite often,’ said Paula.
‘That’s what the doctor said too. And after our daughter was born, Iréne didn’t seem interested in Christian any more.’ Ragnar Lissander looked out of the window, ho
lding his coffee cup in a tight grip. ‘Maybe it would have been better for the boy if she’d got her wish.’
‘And what was that?’ asked Patrik.
‘To give him back. She didn’t think we needed to keep him since we had our own child.’ He gave them an embarrassed smile. ‘I know how that sounds. Iréne can be difficult at times, and sometimes it gets a bit crazy. But she’s not always as mean as it sounds.’
A bit crazy? Patrik was about to choke in disgust. They were talking about a woman who wanted to give back her foster child after she had a child of her own. And the old man was actually defending her.
‘But you didn’t take him back, did you?’ he said coldly.
‘No. It was one of the few occasions when I put my foot down. At first she refused to listen, but when I told her that it would look bad, she agreed to let him stay. I probably shouldn’t have though …’ Again his voice faded, and they could see how hard it was for him to be talking about this topic.
‘How did Christian and Alice get along with each other when they were growing up?’ asked Paula, but Ragnar didn’t seem to hear. He seemed to be far away in his own thoughts. Quietly he said:
‘I should have taken better care of her. That poor boy. He didn’t understand a thing.’
‘What didn’t he understand?’ asked Patrik, leaning forward.
Ragnar gave a start and woke up from his reverie. He looked at Patrik.
‘Would you like to meet Alice? I think you need to meet her in order to understand.’
‘Yes, we’d like to meet Alice.’ Patrik couldn’t hide how agitated he felt. ‘When can we do that? Where is she?’
‘We can go there now,’ said Ragnar, getting to his feet.
Patrik and Paula exchanged glances as they walked to the car. Was Alice the woman they were looking for? Were they finally going to put an end to this case?
She was sitting with her back to them when they came in. Her long hair reached past her waist. Dark and gleaming.
‘Hi, Alice. It’s Pappa.’ Ragnar’s voice echoed in the very plain room. Someone had made a half-hearted attempt to add some cosy touches, but without entirely succeeding. A drooping potted plant stood on the windowsill, and a poster for the film The Big Blue hung on the wall above a narrow bed with a worn coverlet. There was also a small desk with a chair placed in front of it. That was where she was sitting. Her hands were moving, but Patrik couldn’t see what she was doing. She didn’t react when her father spoke to her.
‘Alice,’ he repeated, and this time she slowly turned around.
Patrick looked at her in surprise. The woman in front of him was stunningly beautiful. He quickly calculated that she must be about thirty-five, but she looked at least ten years younger. There wasn’t a wrinkle on her oval face. Her eyes were enormous and very blue, with thick black lashes. He found himself staring at her.
‘She’s a beautiful girl, our Alice,’ said Ragnar, going over to her. He placed his hand on her shoulder, and she leaned her head against him. Like a kitten pressing close to its master. Her hands lay limply on her lap.
‘We have visitors, Alice. This is Patrik and Paula.’ He hesitated. ‘They’re friends of Christian’s.’
A glint appeared in her eyes when she heard her brother’s name. Ragnar gently stroked her hair.
‘So now you know. Now you’ve met Alice.’
‘How long?’ Patrik couldn’t stop staring at her face. The resemblance to her mother was striking. Yet there was something very different about the way Alice looked. All the malevolence that had become etched into her mother’s face was absent from this … magical creature. He realized that was a strange way to describe her, but he couldn’t think of anything better.
‘A long time. She hasn’t lived at home since the summer she turned thirteen. This is the fourth place she’s lived. I didn’t much care for the others, but this one is quite nice.’ He leaned forward and kissed his daughter on the top of the head. There was no reaction in her face, but she pressed closer to him.
‘What …?’ Paula didn’t know how to formulate her question.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ said Ragnar. ‘If you ask me, there’s nothing at all wrong with her. She’s perfect. But I know what you mean. And I’ll tell you in a minute.’
He squatted down in front of Alice and spoke to her gently. Here, with his daughter, he was no longer in visible. His posture was more erect and his eyes were clear. Here he was somebody. He was Alice’s pappa.
‘Sweetheart, Pappa can’t stay very long today. I just wanted you to meet Christian’s friends.’
She looked at him. Then she turned around and took something from the desk. A drawing. She held it up for him to see.
‘Is that for me?’
She shook her head, and Ragnar’s shoulders sagged a bit. ‘Is it for Christian?’ he asked in a low voice.
She nodded and held it out again.
‘I’ll send it to him. I promise.’
The shadow of a smile. Then she turned back to the desk, and her hands began moving again. She had started on a new drawing.
Patrik cast a glance at the paper in Ragnar Lissander’s hand. He recognized the drawing style.
‘And you’ve always kept your promise, haven’t you? You sent her drawings to Christian,’ he said after they’d left Alice’s room.
‘Not all of them. She makes so many. But occasionally, so that he’d know she was thinking about him. In spite of everything.’
‘How did you know where to send the drawings? From what I understood, Christian had broken off all contact with you and your wife when he turned eighteen,’ said Paula.
‘Yes, he did. But Alice really wanted Christian to have her drawings, so I tried to find an address for him. I suppose I was a bit curious too. At first I searched for him under our surname, but without success. Then I tried with his mother’s last name and found an address in Göteborg. For a while I lost track of him because he moved and the letters came back, but then I found him again. Living on Rosenhillsgatan. But I didn’t know that he had moved to Fjällbacka. I thought he was still in Göteborg, since the letters weren’t returned.’
Ragnar went back into Alice’s room to say goodbye, and then led the way along the corridor as Patrik told him about the man who had taken care of the letters for Christian. Then the three of them sat down in a big, bright room that functioned as both a dining room and cafeteria. It had an impersonal air, with big palm plants that were clearly lacking both water and attention, just like the plant in Alice’s room. They had the whole place to themselves.
‘She cried a lot,’ said Ragnar, stroking the pastel-coloured tablecloth. ‘Presumably due to colic. During her pregnancy, Iréne had already lost interest in Christian, so when Alice was born and became so demanding, my wife had no time for the boy. And he was already in a fragile state because of what had happened to him before.’
‘What about you?’ said Patrik. When he saw Ragnar’s expression, he realized that he’d hit on a sensitive point.
‘Me?’ Ragnar stopped moving his hand on the table. ‘I closed my eyes and refused to see. Iréne has always been the one who makes the decisions. And I’ve let her do it. It’s just been easier that way.’
‘Didn’t Christian like his little sister?’ asked Patrik.
‘He used to stand next to her cot and stare at her. I saw the dark expression on his face, but I never thought that … I just had to leave the room to open the door when the bell rang.’ Ragnar sounded distracted, and he was staring at a spot somewhere behind them. ‘I was only gone a few minutes.’
Paula opened her mouth to ask a question, but decided not to interrupt. He should be allowed to tell the story at his own pace. It was obvious that Ragnar was having a hard time formulating his words. His whole body was tensed, his shoulders hunched.
‘Iréne had gone upstairs to take a nap, and for once I was put in charge of Alice. Otherwise Iréne never let anyone else take care of her. She was such a sweet baby, even thou
gh she cried all the time. It was as if Iréne suddenly had a new doll to play with. A doll that she refused to share with anyone else.’
Another pause, and Patrik had to make a real effort not to coax the man to get on with his story.
‘I was only gone a few minutes …’ Ragnar repeated. It was almost as if he’d got stuck. As if it was impossible for him to put the rest into words.
‘Where was Christian?’ asked Patrik calmly, wanting to help the man along a bit.
‘In the bathroom. With Alice. I was giving her a bath. We had one of those contraptions that you could put the baby in, and that way you’d have both hands free to wash her. I filled the tub with water and then put her in the baby seat. And that’s where Alice was sitting.’
Paula nodded. They had a similar device for her son Leo.
‘When I came back to the bathroom … Alice was … She wasn’t moving. Her head was all the way under the water. Her eyes were … open, wide open.’
Ragnar swayed a bit in his chair. It was obvious that he had to force himself to go on, to confront those awful memories and images.
‘Christian was just sitting there, leaning against the bathtub and looking down at her.’ Ragnar fixed his eyes on Paula and Patrik, as if he’d suddenly returned to the present. ‘He was sitting very still, and he was smiling.’
‘But you saved her, right?’ Patrik could feel the goose bumps on his arms.
‘Yes, I saved her. I got her breathing again. And then I saw …’ He cleared his throat. ‘I saw the disappointment in Christian’s eyes.’
‘Did you tell Iréne what happened?’
‘No, that would never … No!’
‘Christian tried to drown his little sister, and you didn’t tell your wife?’ Paula looked at him in disbelief.
‘I felt like I owed him something, after everything he’d been through. If I had told Iréne, she would have sent him away at once. And he wouldn’t have survived that. Besides, the damage was already done.’ He sounded as if he were pleading with them. ‘I didn’t know how serious it was at the time. But it didn’t really matter, because there was nothing I could do to change things. Sending Christian away wouldn’t have made it any better.’
The Drowning Page 37
