'What the hell's the meaning of sending the police over to my house?' he yelled, slamming his fist on the kitchen table.
She gave him a cold stare. 'They asked if we knew of anyone who might wish our family harm, so I immediately thought of you. And if you don't hurry up and get out of my house, I'm going to call the police. Then they can see for themselves what you're capable of.'
He had to restrain himself from lunging at her and putting his hands around her throat. Her apparent calm only intensified his rage, and spots began to dance before his eyes.
'Just try it, you shitty fucking bitch!'
'Don't think I wouldn't. Because you can bet I will. You've continually harassed me and my family and threatened and badgered us.' She put her hand to her breast in a histrionic fashion and assumed the martyr expression that he'd learned to hate over the years.
Yet once again she succeeded in pulling off the same trick. To portray him as the villain and herself as the victim. When it was actually just the opposite. He had tried to be the better person, he really had. Tried to remain above the fray and refuse to sink to her level. But a couple of years ago he'd decided that if it was war she wanted, it was war she was going to get. Since then it had been no holds barred.
He again had to restrain himself and simply hissed through clenched teeth: 'You didn't succeed, at any rate. The police didn't seem very inclined to believe your lies about me.'
'Well, there are several other possibilities that the police can investigate,' Lilian said in a nasty tone of voice.
'What do you mean?' Kaj asked, but he answered his own question when he realized what she was getting at. 'You leave Morgan out of this, do you hear me?'
'I hardly need to say a thing.' Her tone was even more malevolent. 'The police will no doubt soon discover for themselves that there's someone living next door who isn't quite right in the head. And everyone knows what someone like that might do. If not, all they have to do is look at the reports on file.'
'Those complaints were pure bullshit, and you know it! Morgan has never even set foot on your property, much less run around looking in your windows.'
'Well, I know what I saw,' said Lilian. 'And the police will work it out as well, as soon as they look through the reports.'
He didn't answer her. There was no use trying.
Then the rage took over.
Deeply engrossed in the papers on his desk, Martin jumped when Patrik knocked on his office door.
'I didn't mean to give you a heart attack,' said Patrik with a smile. 'Are you busy?'
'No, come on in,' he said, waving Patrik in. 'So, how'd it go? Did you find out anything about the family from the teacher? Did he tell you anything?'
'She,' Patrik clarified. 'No, she didn't have much to say,' he said, drumming his hand impatiently on his leg. 'She didn't know of any problems in connection with Sara's family. But we did find out a bit more about Sara. The girl apparently had DAMP and could be quite trying.'
'In what way?' said Martin, who had only a vague understanding of a diagnosis that had become so common in recent years.
'She was excitable, restless and aggressive if she didn't get her way. She also had difficulty concentrating.'
'Sounds like she must have been rather hard to deal with,' said Martin.
Patrik nodded. 'Yes, that's how I interpret it too, even though the teacher didn't come right out and say it, naturally.'
'Did you notice anything like this when you saw Sara before?'
'Erica was the one who saw her more often. I just saw her a few times, and all I remember is that I thought she seemed lively. But nothing that I reacted to.'
'So what exactly is the difference between DAMP and ADHD?' Martin asked. 'It seems to me I've heard both used to describe pretty much the same conditions.'
'No idea,' said Patrik with a shrug. 'And I don't know whether her problem had anything to do with her murder, but we have to start somewhere, don't we?'
Martin nodded and then pointed at the papers in front of him. 'I've checked through the reports we've received about sex crimes in recent years, and there's nothing that really matches. A few reports of offences committed against children by a close family member, but we had to drop the charges because of lack of evidence. We do have one conviction in such a case. You probably recall the father who assaulted his daughter, don't you?'
Patrik nodded. There were few cases that left such a horrid taste in his mouth. 'Torbjörn Stiglund, yeah, but he's probably still in prison, isn't he?'
'Yes, I rang and checked. He hasn't even been out on any furloughs. So we can cross him off the list. As to the rest, they're mostly rapes, but against adults; and then there are a few cases of molestation, also against adults. By the way, a familiar name popped up there.' Martin pointed at the binder that Patrik had last seen on his own desk, but which now lay before his colleague. 'I hope you don't mind that I took the Florin family binder from your office.'
Patrik shook his head. 'No, of course, that's quite all right. And I presume you're alluding to Lilian's complaints against Morgan Wiberg?'
'Yes, she claims that he was sneaking about outside their house and tried to peep in on several occasions when she was changing her clothes.'
'Yeah, I read that,' Patrik said wearily. 'But I honestly don't know how to view all these reports. None of the claims seem to have any basis in reality. They're mostly accusations coming from both sides and a particularly effective way to waste police time and resources.'
'I'm inclined to agree with you. But we can't close our eyes to the fact that there's a potential Peeping Tom in the house next door. You know, sex crimes often start with just that sort of activity,' Martin said.
'I know, but it still seems pretty far-fetched. Suppose that what Lilian Florin says is true - which I strongly doubt. It is a grown woman that Morgan was trying to see naked, after all. There's nothing to suggest that he would have any sexual interest in children. Besides, we don't even know if Sara's murder began with a sexual offence. Nothing from the post-mortem indicates that. But it could be worthwhile to check out Morgan more closely. Have a talk with him, at least.'
'Do you think there's any chance I could come with you?' Martin said eagerly. 'Or are you starting to prefer Ernst?'
Patrik grimaced. 'No, that day will never come. As far as I'm concerned, you're welcome to come along. The question is what Mellberg will say about it.'
'Well, we can at least ask. I think he's been a bit calmer the past few days. Who knows, maybe he's mellowing out in his old age.'
'I doubt it,' Patrik said with a laugh. 'But I'll go find out if he'll agree to the plan. We could head over there this afternoon. I've got some paperwork to catch up on first.'
'Fine with me. Then I can finish up with this stuff too,' Martin said, pointing at the stack of reports. 'I hope to have a complete report ready by then. But as I said, don't expect too much; there doesn't seem to be anything that matches.'
Patrik nodded. 'Just do the best you can.'
Gösta had almost dozed off in front of his computer. Only the thud of his chin hitting his chest kept him awake enough that he hadn't completely floated off to dreamland. If only I could put up my feet for a while, he thought. If he could just take a little nap, he'd be ready to plunge into the work later. Like in Spain. People down there understood the value of taking a siesta. But not in Sweden, that's for sure. Here you had to plod through an eight- hour workday while keeping your enthusiasm high and your motivation to work at its peak. What a terrible country he lived in.
The shrill ring of the telephone gave him a start.
'Damn,' he said. His mood didn't improve when he recognized the phone number on the display. What did that old biddy want now? Then he reminded himself that he ought to have a bit more sympathy considering what had happened. So he vowed to be patient and then picked up the receiver.
'Gösta Flygare, Tanumshede police station.'
The voice on the other end was agitated, and he had to as
k her to calm down so that he could hear what she wanted to say. It didn't seem to help, so he repeated: 'Lilian, you have to talk a little slower, I can barely understand what you're saying. Now take a deep breath and repeat what you just said.'
That finally seemed to work, and she started over from the beginning. Gösta raised his eyebrows as he listened. This was an unexpected turn of events. After reassuring her repeatedly he got her to hang up at last. He grabbed his jacket and went into Patrik's office.
'Hey, Hedström.' Gösta hadn't bothered to knock, but Patrik was working with his office door open, and in Gösta's opinion it was his own fault if people just walked right in.
'Yes?' Patrik asked.
'I just had a call from Lilian Florin.'
'You did?' Patrik repeated, his interest aroused.
'Something seems to be going on out there. She claims that Kaj assaulted her.'
'What the hell are you saying?' Patrik swivelled in his chair so that he was face to face with Gösta.
'Yeah, she claims that he came home a little while ago andstarted yelling and screaming, and when she tried to get him to leave, he started punching her.'
'That sounds totally crazy,' said Patrik incredulously.
Gösta shrugged. 'That's what she told me, anyway. I promised we'd come over right away.' He held up his jacket demonstratively.
'Yes, of course,' said Patrik, jumping up from his chair and grabbing his own jacket from the coat rack in the corner.
Twenty minutes later they were back at the Florins' house. Lilian opened the door as soon as they knocked and let them in. As soon as they stepped over the threshold she began wildly waving her arms about.
'Do you see what he did to me?!' She pointed at a slight flush on her cheek and then pulled up the sleeve of her blouse and showed them a red mark on her upper arm. 'If he doesn't go to jail for this, then…' She was working herself up even more, and she seemed to have a hard time talking from sheer outrage.
Patrik placed a soothing hand on her uninjured arm and said, 'We're going to take a closer look at this, I promise you. By the way, have you had a doctor examine you?'
She shook her head. 'No, do I have to? He hit me in the face and grabbed my arm hard, but I don't think there are any serious injuries,' she admitted reluctantly. 'Although maybe you need proof in the form of photographs?' Lilian's face lit up for a moment before Patrik was compelled to quash that hope.
'No, that won't be necessary now that we've had a chance to look at it ourselves. We'll go over and have a talk with Kaj. Then we'll decide how to proceed later. Is there anyone you can call to come over?'
Lilian nodded. 'Yes, I can ask my friend Eva.'
'Good. I think you ought to ring her. Then put on a pot of coffee and try to take it easy for a while. This is all going to work out, you'll see.' Patrik tried to sound reassuring, but to be honest I here was something in her histrionic behaviour that bothered him. Something didn't feel right.
'Shouldn't I file a formal complaint? Fill out some forms?' asked Lilian hopefully.
'We'll deal with that later. First of all, Patrik and I will have a little talk with Kaj.' Gösta sounded unusually authoritative, but Lilian wouldn't settle for vague promises.
'Don't tell me that you intend to drop the matter, because you're too lazy to intervene when a defenceless woman is subjected to such a horrible attack. Because I don't plan to shut up, that's for sure. First I'll ring your chief, then I'll go to the newspapers if I have to and -'
Gosta interrupted her harangue and said with steel in his voice, 'No one is planning to drop the matter, Lilian, but right now this is what we're going to do: first we'll talk to Kaj, and then we'll take care of the formalities. If you have any objections, you're quite welcome to ring our chief, Bertil Mellberg, at the station and present your complaints. Otherwise we'll come back as soon as we've talked to the accused.'
After a brief internal struggle Lilian looked ready to accept that it was time to back off. 'Well, if that's how it has to be, then I guess I'll go and ring Eva. But I'm counting on you to come back in a little while,' she muttered sullenly. Then she couldn't resist one last demonstrative act: she slammed the door behind them so hard that it echoed through the whole neighbourhood.
'What do you think about all this?' said Patrik, who still couldn't believe that Gösta of all people had succeeded in exercising his authority.
'I don't know, but I…' said Gösta, mulling over his words. Something doesn't feel quite… right.'
'I agree, that's what I think too. Has Kaj ever resorted to violence during all these years of quarrelling?'
'No, and if he had, we would have had a talk about it at once, believe me. On the other hand, he's never had a blatant charge of murder flung in his face before.'
'You're right about that,' replied Patrik. 'But he just doesn't seem like the type that would resort to violence, if you know what I mean. He's more like someone who would try to trip her up if he had the chance.'
'Yeah, I'm inclined to agree with you. But first we'll have to see what he says.'
'I suppose we will,' said Patrik and knocked on the door.
* * *
STRÖMSTAD 1924
The minute her father walked in the door, a cold hand gripped Agnes's heart. Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong. August looked as though he'd aged twenty years since she'd seen him last, and she instantly understood that she must be dying. That was the only thing that could have caused such deep furrows on her father's face in such a short time.
She clutched at her chest and steeled herself for what she was about to hear. But there was something that didn't really fit. The sorrow she expected to see in her father's eyes was conspicuous by its absence; instead they were black with rage. It was a strange response, to say the least. Why would he be angry that she was dying?
Despite his short stature he loomed with an air of menace by the side of the bed where she lay, and Agnes instinctively did her utmost to look as pitiful as possible. That had always worked best on the few occasions her father had been really angry at her. But it didn't seem to be working this time, and her sense of disquiet grew. Then a thought occurred to her. But it was so unbelievable and appalling that she instantly cast it aside.
But the thought returned, without mercy. Then she saw that her father's lips were moving in an attempt to speak, but he was so upset that his vocal cords were unable to produce a sound. That was when she realized in terror that what had been simply a wild speculation was now a distinct possibility.
Slowly she crept even further under the covers. When her father's hand suddenly came down forcefully on her cheek and she felt the sting of unexpected pain, her misgivings changed to certainty.
'You, you…' stammered her father, desperately searching for the words that were trying to issue from his lips. 'You, you slut! Who… what?' he continued stammering. From her recumbent position she saw him swallow repeatedly, as if trying to help the words come out. She had never seen her stout, good-natured father like this before, and she found the sight terrifying.
Agnes also felt bewilderment grip her in the midst of her fear. How could this have happened? They had taken the necessary precautions and always stopped in time. In her worst fantasies she had never imagined that she would end up in trouble. Of course she had heard of other girls who got pregnant by accident, but she had always thought scornfully that they must not have been careful enough. They must have let the man go further than he should.
And now here she lay. Her thoughts wandered feverishly in search of a solution. Things had always worked out for her. Surely this situation could be resolved too. She had to make her father understand, as she had always been able to do whenever she had got herself into a mess. Of course it had never been anything this serious, but all her life he had come to her rescue and smoothed the way for her. He would have to do the same now. She felt herself growing calmer after the first shock subsided. Naturally the situation could be handled. Father would be
angry for a while, she could stand that, but he would help her out of this predicament. There were places one could go to have something like this fixed, it was merely a matter of money, and at least in that respect she didn't have to worry.
Pleased at having worked out a plan, she opened her mouth to speak and begin cajoling her father. But her words were checked before she could even begin when August's hand again landed on her cheek with a smack. She gazed at him incredulously. She had never imagined that he would take his hand to her, and now he had slapped her twice in short order. The unfairness of his treatment ignited a rage inside her, and she sat up in bed and again opened her mouth to try and explain. Smack! A third slap struck her already tender cheek, and Agnes felt angry tears filling her eyes. What was the meaning of treating her like this? In resignation she sank back on the pillows and stared in both confusion and anger at this father she thought she knew so well. But the man before her was a stranger.
Slowly it began to dawn on Agnes that her life might be about to take a nasty turn.
* * *
A cautious knock on the door made Niclas look up. He wasn't expecting a patient, and he was fully occupied going through all the papers that had piled up on his desk. He frowned in annoyance.
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