Frozen Moment

by Camilla Ceder

  Tell flipped his wallet open to show his ID.

  'Detective Inspector Tell. My colleague Detective Constable Gonzales.' He made a sweeping movement towards his colleague, who was striding up the garden path. 'Maria Waltz? It's about your ex-husband.'

  If the woman's face had been expressionless before, it became even more rigid now.

  'Lars? What about him?'

  'May we come in?'

  She looked as if she were considering the possibility of saying no, but then moved away from the door. She went ahead through the narrow hallway and into the kitchen. They were invited to sit on a sofa, with a clear view of a room where an oval dining table adorned with several showy Christmas ornaments was the main attraction. Large steamed-up windows with red and green curtains looked on to a conservatory.

  Maria Waltz sat down opposite Tell, who cleared his throat.

  'I'm very sorry to have to inform you that your ex-husband, Lars Waltz, has been found dead. Unfortunately we are not talking about a death from natural causes.'

  Maria Waltz's lips stiffened into a grimace.

  'You're not serious?' She shook her head as if trying to shake off the unpleasant information. For a long minute there was silence, then suddenly her body shuddered with a sob. 'I didn't want him to die,' she whispered.

  'We know that,' said Tell calmly.

  She had begun to tremble. If she was putting on an act, she was very good at it. Suddenly she realised what Tell had said.

  'Not from natural causes? You mean he was murdered?'

  'I'm afraid so. That's why we're here.'

  'You can't think I had anything to do with it? That's just crazy!'

  'But we were hoping you might be able to give us some information about your ex-husband. I believe it's been six or seven years since you split up?'

  Just as she was about to reply, Tell's mobile rang. He apologised and dug it out of his pocket. Seja Lundberg. There was a stab of pain under his left eye as he cancelled the call and turned back to Maria Waltz.

  'I mean, I have wished him dead, I'm not afraid to admit that, but…' She stared vacantly at the overripe pears in a red glass fruit bowl. 'So I won't say that I can't understand how someone could have done this. Have you ever been really let down, Inspector?'

  Tell met her gaze without speaking and waited for her to go on.

  'On the other hand, I can't think of anyone else who had reason to feel that way about Lars. He was a peaceful person.'

  She gave a half-smile but her expression instantly became serious again.

  'He was kind, responsible, all that sort of thing. A good father. Then everything was turned upside down. He met that woman and…'

  The tears began to flow.

  'You must think I'm being ridiculous. That was six years ago - I should have got over it by now.'

  'We're not here to make any judgement,' said Tell and paused for a moment. 'I get the impression you didn't part on good terms?'

  She shook her head.

  'He left me from one day to the next. One night he told me he was moving out the following day. He'd already booked a van to move his stuff. I got no explanation, apart from the fact that he didn't love me any more. He'd had someone else for a while. But what about the boys?

  I said. They were ten and twelve; they needed their dad. And the house? We were living in Hovas at the time, and the house was far too expensive for me to be able to afford on my own, to go on living there with the kids. He knew that.'

  She dashed away the tears from her cheeks, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

  'He wrecked my life and the children's in an instant. It was as if I was suddenly seeing a darker side of him. As if all the suffering he was causing simply ran off him, like water off a duck's back. He was ice cold.'

  She fell silent. Tell nodded discreetly at his colleague to take over.

  'I can understand how difficult it must have been for you.' Gonzales edged a fraction closer to the table and sought eye contact. 'There were some financial disputes after the divorce, according to what we've learned.'

  'Yes.'

  She tore off a piece of kitchen roll and blew her nose.

  'I suppose I thought it should have been worth something - eighteen years of marriage and two sons. If not emotionally, then at least financially. It's a classic situation: my career took the back seat in favour of his. I stayed at home with our children and supported him in his professional life. Maybe you're too young to understand this, but in somewhere like the USA things never turn out the way they do here. Over there they value traditional woman's work, they value the family. Here you just get a divorce. Did you know that Sweden has the highest divorce rate in the world?'

  Gonzales nodded despite the fact that he'd never heard any such thing.

  Tell's mobile rang again. He checked the caller ID, excused himself and moved into the living room.

  'Did you know,' he heard Bärneflod's voice on the other end of the line, 'who made complaints against Reino Edell for harassment on no fewer than three occasions over the past two and a half years? Lars Waltz, that's who. Karlberg and I have established that he's an ugly bastard.'

  'So did you get anything out of him?'

  'Well, Edell claims that Waltz was having an affair with some queer who-'

  'Is that worth looking into?' Tell smothered a yawn. 'What are the others doing?'

  'Beckman's going through Waltz's telephone records.'

  'Landline or mobile?'

  'Both.'

  'Has she found anything?'

  Bärneflod took the phone away from his ear and some ghastly music piped up as he put Tell on hold.

  After a few seconds he was back.

  'Bingo again. There's one number that comes up over and over again, both on the landline and on the mobile, apart from Lise-Lott's sister's number. It's a Kristoffer Zachariasson in Västra Frölunda.'

  'OK. But listen, Bengt.'

  'What?'

  'Just take it easy.'

  Bärneflod was already gone.

  Tell went back to the kitchen, where Maria Waltz had calmed down and was taking a packet of biscuits out of the cupboard.

  'To begin with he did make an effort to keep his promise - I'll say that in his defence. He would ring the boys from time to time, wanting to see them and so on. But they… well. They were at a sensitive age. They both took it very badly, especially Jocke. He's our eldest. I suppose Lars just gave up after a while. But it can never be right to give up on your children, can it?'

  The look she gave Gonzales was challenging, and obediently he shook his head.

  'Children have the right to give up on their parents, but the reverse is never true. No, his greatest betrayal was of our boys.'

  'So you're saying that your sons have had no contact to speak of with their father since you divorced?' Gonzales asked.

  'Not for the past four years, not really.'

  'When was the last time you saw your ex-husband?' asked Tell from the archway between the kitchen and dining room.

  She jumped as if she'd forgotten he was there.

  'It was… I don't remember. Quite a long time ago. Two or three years, maybe. We had a meeting at my solicitor's office, after selling the house.'

  Tell moved back to the table and sat down, trapping Maria Waltz in her seat by the wall. He ran a hand over his hair, his expression thoughtful.

  'I hope you won't think I'm being insensitive, but I believe you were a little… unstable… for a period after the divorce. How are you feeling now?'

  He met Maria's startled gaze. She got up abruptly and virtually shoved him aside so that she could get to the tap. She filled a glass and managed to spill half the water before taking a couple of gulps.

  'I'm fine, thank you. And I've been fine for the majority of my adult life. Don't you understand? Everything was snatched away from me: my family, my home, my security. I was abandoned, betrayed, cast aside like a rag. So yes, I lost it for a while - does that surprise you, Inspecto
r?'

  Tell didn't reply.

  'I'm fine now. I've been seeing a good doctor for many years. I didn't murder my ex-husband, Inspector.'

  'It wasn't our intention to make you feel we were accusing you of anything. If that is the case, then please accept our apologies. But if you don't mind, I would like the name of your doctor and your permission to speak to him.'

  She nodded, her face whitening around the jawline as she searched for the doctor's card in one of the kitchen cupboards. A muscle was working frenetically in her temple.

  'I'd like you both to leave now,' she said, positioning herself in the hallway.

  'We're on our way. Once again our apologies for any distress we may have caused you, and our condolences on your loss,' said Tell.

  She double-locked the door behind them.

  They didn't speak during the short trip back to the station. Just as they turned into Skånegatan, Tell's mobile buzzed with an incoming text message.

  'You're popular today,' said Gonzales. 'Bärneflod again?'

  Tell shook his head as he opened the message: 'Last chance. Dinner at mine. 18.00.'

  His watch told him he had exactly forty-five minutes to get there. He had just put the handbrake on, but released it immediately and turned to Gonzales.

  'Out you get, I have to be somewhere. When you go upstairs, could you check out Seja Lundberg's address - she was one of the first two witnesses. Then give me a call on my mobile.'

  'OK.'

  When Gonzales rang twenty minutes later, Tell was just passing the turn-off to the scene of the murder. The fog from the river lay like candy floss in the hollows. He shook a cigarette out of the half-full packet he had found in the glove compartment, much to his delight, and wound down the window a little way to let the smoke out. It was almost completely dark. The mist quickly found its way into the car, covering the headrest like a damp film.

  Tell flipped open the ashtray. He shouldn't have asked Gonzales to find out the address. Seja Lundberg was a witness, so there wasn't really anything odd about the fact that he was going to see her in her own home, but he should have called the information desk instead.

  She had tried to get hold of him three times. Every time he had been too much of a coward to take the call. The first time he wasn't prepared but a warm happiness had flooded his body. However, the feeling was quickly replaced by unease when he remembered what he had done and what the consequences would be if someone like Ostergren found out.

  He quickly worked out that the most intelligent thing he could do at this stage was to break off the relationship and hope nobody found out it had existed. This would mean explaining the situation to Seja: he would need to get her to understand his position, why they couldn't see each other again.

  He hated the thought of upsetting her, but the thought of never seeing her again was even worse. He didn't know what to do. Because every time she called the fear grew stronger. He convinced himself that the only humane thing to do was talk to her face to face. He simply had no other choice but to see her again.

  After a steep tarmac slope and an even narrower gravel track he thought the road was petering out, and that he had taken a wrong turning. A NO THROUGH ROAD sign seemed to confirm his fears until he caught sight of a row of mailboxes on a wooden fence by the side of the road. At least this was a sign that there was some kind of life further up the hill. With the help of the miniature torch he carried on his key ring, he made out LUNDBERG on one of the boxes.

  It took Tell twenty minutes of wandering around other people's property before he finally found his way over the bog via the footbridge. Where the forest opened out, he spotted the house; he had been able to smell the smoke all the way back on the road. He pulled his coat more tightly around his shoulders. It was colder this high up; the grass in the glade was already covered in frost, and crunched beneath his shoes.

  He couldn't help peeping in as he passed the kitchen window. The table was laid, and Seja was inside, wearing a red and white checked apron over a long skirt. He was just about to knock on the door when he trod on a metal bowl he hadn't spotted in the darkness. The clatter made her look up at the window. Tell raised a hand, somewhat embarrassed, and opened the door.

  The hallway was tiny, and cluttered with shoes and jackets. And then she was standing there in front of him, taking his coat and nodding to him to come in.

  'You found your way then.'

  'You don't exactly make it easy for admirers. Nobody but a top detective would have found his way out here.'

  Tell had to duck to avoid banging his head on the low door frame leading into the kitchen. Apart from two upholstered armchairs by the wood-burning stove, there was a sofa in front of the window, a folding table and two chairs. The walls were hung with wide shelves that held everything from books to pictures, kitchen equipment and china. On the worn wooden floor lay a long narrow rag rug.

  'Take a seat,' she said. 'The food will be ready in five minutes.'

  A fire crackled in the stove. Tell sat down in front of it and took out a cigarette.

  Seja came and stood in front of him with her arms folded and an unreadable expression on her face. He was getting ready to explain why he hadn't returned her calls, but then she handed him a glass of red wine. He couldn't help interpreting the gesture as an invitation to stay the night and did his best to suppress a broad smile. The purpose of his visit, to end the relationship face to face, suddenly seemed irrelevant.

  'Is there an upstairs too?' he asked, mainly because he couldn't see a bed anywhere. She nodded, smiled, and he was embarrassed to realise that his thoughts were all too obvious.

  'Come on, I'll show you.'

  She opened a narrow door hidden in the panelling. A ladder led up to a tiny loft, where a mattress covered in wine-red velvet bedspreads lay on the floor. She was right behind him and touched his hand. He had the sudden feeling that he had never been more vulnerable.

  The walls and ceiling were covered with old film posters: the classic one from Casablanca, Les Amants du Pont Neuf with Juliette Binoche, Time of the Gypsies. A round window was adorned with an Advent star, and when the wind blew the branches of a tall birch tree scratched against it.

  Tell sank down on the edge of the mattress. She took hold of his wrists and gently forced his body to lie back before unbuttoning his shirt, undoing his belt.

  The bedclothes smelled faintly of woodsmoke and soap. The light from the hallway seeped through the opening in the floor, along with Tom Waits' rasping whisky voice. Tell thought distractedly that it was years since he had heard 'I Hope That I Don't Fall in Love with You'. He closed his eyes.

  In the morning Tell was woken by the tapping of the tree on the window and realised at once that he had overslept for the first time in many years. It was already light outside, and there was an empty space beside him. He could hear the sound of running water in the kitchen. He climbed down the ladder and saw Seja with her back to him, wearing a dressing gown and sheepskin slippers.

  She realised he was there when he loudly inhaled the aroma of the coffee.

  'Good morning. Are you hungry?' She gestured in the direction of the pans on the stove. 'We could always have dinner now - we forgot about it last night. If you don't fancy stew I can offer you a simple cup of coffee.'

  She dried her hands and slipped self-consciously into his arms. 'I'll just go and get dressed.'

  'Why don't you get undressed instead.'

  She laughed, her mouth level with the hollow at the base of his throat.

  'Someone's very keen to get hold of you; your phone has rung several times.'

  Three messages from the office. Just as he was about to listen to them the phone rang again. It was Bärneflod's number. Tell left the room.

  'Tell.'

  'Where the fuck are you? I've been calling since eight.'

  'Something new?'

  'Yes, Stromberg has narrowed the time of death down to some point between seven and nine in the evening.'

  T
ell went through the hallway and clambered up into the loft to find his clothes. 'So he'd been lying there overnight.'

  'That's right. And presumably he could have ended up lying there for a lot longer, since nobody passing would have seen him from the road. But you remember that old gossip Beckman and Gonzales talked to, fru Rappe? She did say there was an open evening at a house nearby.'

  'I remember. Do you mean the open evening was between seven and nine?'

  'Exactly.'

  'Find out which estate agent-'

  'Beckman's already done that. A firm called Swedish Properties was showing the house. The agent's name is Helena Friman. And even better: apparently everyone who was interested in seeing the house registered on the net. She's already faxed us the list.

  'You mean everybody who was at the open evening, and therefore passed the scene of the murder, is on this list?' It was almost too good to be true.

  'With addresses and phone numbers.'

  'How many are we talking about?'

  'Fifteen or so. Of course, people can just turn up, so the agent couldn't swear that absolutely everybody at the house was on the list. Apparently most came around seven, so there has to be a good chance that at least one of them saw or heard something significant.'

  'OK. We'll get the local force to go through the list. Anything else?'

  There was a rattling sound on the other end of the line.

  'Hello? Bad reception on the stairs. It's fine now. Well, speaking of the local boys, it turns out they've come up with a possible candidate among the missing psychos. Nothing from Lillhagen and St Jorgen - only one matched and he had an alibi for that evening - however, someone did escape from a secure unit at the Langtuna youth remand centre a couple of days before the murder, and it's only about ten kilometres away as the crow flies. He's still on the run, but they're looking for him right now.'

  'Is that it?'

  'For now, yes. Are you coming in?'

  Tell ended the call and went down to the kitchen. Seja was holding up a coffee pot, and Tell nodded. She was wearing her jeans and a sweater, and had put up her hair.

  'Are they wondering where you are?'

  'Hmm. They just can't do without me. They're like kids without a babysitter as soon as I turn my back.'