The Stonecutter: A Novel (Pegasus Crime)

by Camilla Lackberg

  ‘I wanted somebody to come over and stay with them, but she insisted everything was fine. But I did phone and talk to her friend Dan, the guy who was at our house yesterday when it happened, and he promised to drop by and look in on them.’

  ‘Did they get any prints?’ Martin asked.

  ‘Unfortunately, no. It was raining, so all the tracks had been washed away. But I sent Maja’s overalls with the ashes to the lab, so we’ll see what that turns up. In my view, it’s merely a formality; it would be much too big a coincidence if the ashes didn’t match the other sample.’

  ‘But why Maja?’

  ‘Who knows?’ said Patrik. ‘Presumably it was a warning directed at me. Something I did, or didn’t do, during the course of the case. Oh, I don’t know,’ he said in frustration. ‘But the best we can do now is to keep working full speed ahead, so that we get this solved as soon as possible. Until then, none of us can relax.’

  ‘What do we do first, interrogate Kaj?’

  ‘Yes,’ Patrik said grimly, ‘we interrogate Kaj.’

  ‘You do realize that Kaj was in custody yesterday when—’

  ‘Yeah, of course I do,’ Patrik said, sounding annoyed. ‘But it doesn’t mean that he isn’t mixed up in this somehow. Or that he won’t have to answer to other things.’

  ‘Okay, I was just checking,’ said Martin, holding up his hands defensively. ‘I’ll just hang up my jacket and meet you there.’ He headed for his office.

  Patrik was gathering up his things to go to the interrogation room when the phone rang. It was Annika, so he picked up, hoping that it wasn’t anything important. He was really looking forward to confronting the shithead they had in custody. Now more than ever.

  ‘Yes?’ He could hear that his tone was curt, but Annika had a thick skin and wouldn’t be offended. At least he hoped not.

  Moments later he dashed over to Martin’s office. ‘Charlotte and Niclas are here, looking for me. We’ll have to wait a bit with the interrogation until I hear what they want.’

  Without waiting for a reply, he ran back to his office. A few seconds later, he heard footsteps and a low murmur in the corridor. When Sara’s parents stepped into the room, Patrik was shocked to see how Charlotte had changed. In the short time since he’d seen her last, she had aged considerably, and her clothes hung loosely on her body. Niclas too looked tired and worn out, but not as bad as his wife. They sat down in the visitors’ chairs, and, during the silence that followed, Patrik had time to wonder what was so important that they would come here unannounced.

  It was Niclas who spoke first. ‘We … we lied to you. Or rather, there are some things we didn’t tell you, and that’s probably almost as bad as lying.’ Patrik felt his interest rising, but decided to wait Niclas out. After a moment he went on. ‘Albin’s injuries. The ones you thought, or believed, that I gave him. It was, it was …’ He seemed to be searching for words, and Charlotte took over for him.

  ‘It was Sara.’ Her voice sounded mechanical and empty of all emotion. Patrik recoiled in his chair. That wasn’t what he was expecting to hear.

  ‘Sara?’ he said, baffled.

  ‘Yes,’ said Charlotte. ‘You know that Sara had problems. She had a hard time controlling her impulses and would get the most terrible attacks of rage. Before Albin was born, she turned her anger on us, but we could defend ourselves and make sure she didn’t hurt herself or us. But when Albin arrived …’ Her voice broke and she looked down at her hands, which lay trembling in her lap.

  ‘Everything escalated out of our control after Albin was born,’ Niclas said. ‘We thought in our foolishness that maybe it would be a positive influence on Sara to have a little brother. Someone she could feel responsible for and protect. But in hindsight that was probably naïve of us. She hated him and the time he demanded from us. She took all the opportunities she could to do him harm, and even if we tried to be there and watch them every second, it was impossible. She was fast …’ He looked at Charlotte, who nodded feebly.

  Niclas went on. ‘We tried everything. A social worker, a psychologist, aggression management, medication. There was nothing we didn’t try. We experimented with changing her diet, took away all sugar and all fast carbohydrates because some findings suggested that might have a positive effect. But nothing, absolutely nothing, seemed to work. Finally we were at the end of our rope. Sooner or later she was going to do serious harm to someone. We just didn’t want to have to send her away. And where would we send her? So when this position at the clinic in Fjällbacka was advertised, we thought that might be the solution. A complete change of scene, with Charlotte’s mother and Stig close by to help relieve some of the pressure. It sounded perfect.’

  Now it was Niclas’s voice that broke. Charlotte put her hand on his and squeezed it. Together they had been to hell and back, and in a way they were still there.

  ‘I’m truly sorry,’ said Patrik. ‘But I also have to ask: Do you have any proof of what you’re telling me?’

  Niclas nodded. ‘I understand that you have to ask. We brought a list of everyone we consulted about Sara. We also contacted them and told them that the police might call them and ask questions. And we told them they didn’t need to preserve patient confidentiality, but to tell the police everything.’

  Niclas handed the list to Patrik, who didn’t doubt for a moment they were telling him the truth. But it still had to be corroborated.

  ‘Have you made any progress? With Kaj, I mean?’ Charlotte asked hesitantly.

  ‘We’re in the process of interrogating him on various points. Unfortunately that’s all I can tell you.’

  Charlotte merely nodded.

  Patrik saw that Niclas wanted to say something else, but that he was having a hard time. He waited him out.

  ‘With regard to the alibi …’ He glanced at Charlotte, who again nodded almost imperceptibly. ‘I recommend that you have a talk with Jeanette. She lied when she said I wasn’t there, to get back at me for ending our relationship. I’m sure that if you press her a bit, the truth will come out.’

  Patrik was not surprised. He’d thought that something sounded phony in Jeanette’s account. Well, they could deal with her when the time came. If necessary. Hopefully the question of whether Niclas had an alibi or not would be superfluous after this afternoon’s interrogation.

  They got up and shook hands. Then Niclas’s mobile rang. He took the call out in the corridor and a perplexed expression soon appeared on his face.

  ‘The hospital? Now? Stay calm, we’ll be right over.’

  He turned to Charlotte, who was standing next to Patrik in the doorway.

  ‘Stig has taken a turn for the worse. He’s on his way to the hospital.’

  Patrik shook his head as he watched them hurry off down the corridor. Hadn’t they suffered enough?

  Arne had taken refuge in the church. Asta’s words were still whirling round in his head like an angry swarm of hornets. His whole world was falling apart, and the answers he’d hoped to find in the church had not yet materialized. Instead, it was as if the stone walls were slowly closing in around him as he sat in the front pew, looking up at the crucifix, where Jesus now seemed to be sneering at him.

  A sound behind him made him turn round. Some German tourists came in the door talking loudly and began frenetically taking photographs. He had always been annoyed by tourists, and this was the last straw.

  Arne stood up and screamed, with spittle spraying from his lips, ‘Get out of here! At once! Out!’

  Although they didn’t understand a word of what he was saying, his tone left no room for doubt, and they slunk timidly out the door.

  Pleased at having finally put his foot down, Arne sat back down on the pew, only to be confronted again by Jesus’s scornful smile.

  Then a glance at the pulpit infused him with new courage. It was time to do what he should have done long, long ago.

  Life was so unfair. Hadn’t he been forced to fight an uphill battle ever since he was born? He’d n
ever got something for nothing. Nobody saw his true qualities. Ernst simply didn’t understand what was wrong with everybody. Why were they always whispering behind his back, stealing the opportunities that should have been his? That’s how it had always been. Even in grade school the other kids had ganged up on him. The girls had giggled and the boys had given him thrashings on the way home from school. Not even when his father fell and landed on a pitchfork did he get any sympathy. Instead, he knew what the townspeople were saying, that his poor mother probably had something to do with it. They simply had no shame.

  He’d always believed that things would be better as soon as he left school. When he got out in the real world. He had wanted to become a policeman because it would give him a chance to show himself as the powerful man he was. But after twenty-five years on the force he had to admit that things hadn’t quite gone the way he’d planned, and now he was in really deep shit. He just couldn’t have imagined that Kaj would have had anything to do with such things. They played cards together, after all. Kaj was a great pal and one of the few people who actually wanted to hang out with him. And they’d heard stories about how unfounded accusations had destroyed the lives of innocent men. So when Ernst got a chance to do a friend a favor, of course he had done it. That was nothing to hold against him, was it? He’d had the best of intentions when he neglected to report that call from Göteborg, but nobody seemed to understand. And now everything had blown up in his face. Why did he always have such fucking bad luck? He was smart enough to realize that the boy’s suicide yesterday was going to make things a lot worse.

  But as he sat there in his office, banished to solitude like a prisoner in Siberia, Ernst had a flash of genius. He knew precisely how he could turn the situation to his own advantage. He intended to become the hero of the day, and once and for all show that whippersnapper Hedström who was the most experienced cop on the force. Hedström had probably noticed how he’d rolled his eyes at the meeting, when Mellberg had pointed out that they probably ought to take a closer look at the village idiot. But one man’s meat is another man’s poison. If Hedström couldn’t put two and two together to solve the murder, then Ernst would just have to jump in himself. It was obvious to anyone that Morgan was the guilty party, and the fact that the girl’s jacket had been found at his home removed any remaining doubt.

  What appealed most to Ernst was the brilliant simplicity of his plan. He would bring Morgan in for questioning, get him to confess, and thereby arrest the murderer, demonstrating to Mellberg that he, Ernst, certainly did listen to what a superior said, while Hedström was not only incompetent but also insubordinate. After that he would surely be taken into the chief’s good graces again.

  He got up and walked to the door, feeling much more energetic than usual. Now it was up to him to do some high-quality police work. He looked up and down the corridor to make sure that nobody was watching as he slipped out. The coast was clear.

  29

  Göteborg 1957

  Mary felt nothing as she stood there in the pouring rain. Neither hatred nor joy. Only a cold emptiness that filled her whole body, from the outermost layer of skin down to the white bones of her skeleton.

  Her mother was sobbing next to her, looking more stylish than usual. The black funeral dress was very becoming. No one could ignore the dramatic effect of her beauty. With a trembling hand she let a single red rose fall onto her husband’s coffin and then threw herself sobbing into Per-Erik’s arms. Just behind him stood his wife, sympathy written all over the plain features of her face, ignorant of how often her husband had slept with the woman whose tears were now wetting his lapels.

  Mary watched numbly, wishing she and her mother could have turned to each other for solace. Dismissed once again. Rejected. Doubt descended on her with full force, but she forced herself to push it away. She couldn’t start questioning everything now; if she did, she would go under.

  The rain was cold against her cheeks, but her face betrayed no emotion. With stiff legs she walked the few steps up to the hole in the ground and tried to make her fingers hold out the rose in her hand. The monster stirred inside her, coaxing her, making her raise her arm and hold the rose over the shiny black coffin down there in the hole. Then she saw her fingers as if in slow motion let go of the spiny stalk, and with unbearable slowness the flower floated down toward the hard surface. She thought she heard a loud echo when it struck the wood, but no one else seemed to react.

  She stood there for what seemed like an eternity before she felt a light touch on her elbow. Per-Erik’s wife smiled gently to her and nodded that it was time to go. Before them walked the rest of the funeral cortège, led by Agnes and Per-Erik. He had his arm around Mother’s shoulders and she was leaning against him.

  Mary glanced at the woman next to her and wondered scornfully how she could be so naïve not to see sexual tension surrounding the couple in front of them. Mary was only thirteen, but she could see it as clearly as the falling rain. Well, that stupid woman would soon find out what reality looked like.

  Sometimes she felt so much older than thirteen. She regarded the foolishness of humanity with a contempt that far exceeded that of a normal thirteen-year-old, but then she’d had an excellent teacher. Mother had taught her that everyone was only interested in tending to their own desires, and that a girl had to take care of getting what she wanted in life. Nothing should ever stand in the way, Mother had intoned, and Mary had been a splendid student. Now she felt wise and experienced and ready to be given the respect she deserved from Mother. After all, she had proven how far her love reached. Hadn’t she made the ultimate sacrifice for her mother? Now she would get that love back with interest, she knew it. She would never again have to sit in the dark cellar and watch the monster grow.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Per-Erik watching her with concern. She discovered that she had a broad smile on her lips and quickly stifled it. It was important to maintain appearances. That’s what Mother always said. And Mother was always right.

  He could hear the sirens in the distance, when they came for him. In the ambulance, Stig wanted to sit up and protest, demand that they turn around and drive him home. But his limbs refused to obey him, and when he tried to speak only a croaking sound came from his lips. Lilian’s worried face hovered above him. ‘Shh, don’t try to talk. Save your energy. We’ll be in Uddevalla soon.’

  Reluctantly he gave up any attempt to struggle. He hadn’t the energy. The pain was still there, and now it was worse than ever.

  It had happened so fast. In the morning he had felt quite well and had even managed to eat a little. But then the pain level had risen more and more, and finally it became unbearable. When Lilian came upstairs with morning tea, he was no longer able to speak, and she had dropped the tray in fright. Then the whole circus started up. The sirens, the stomping on the stairs, hands that carefully lifted him onto a gurney and loaded him into an ambulance. Followed by this high-speed drive, though he was only vaguely aware of it.

  The fear of landing in the hospital was the only thing worse than the pain. He couldn’t escape the vision of his father in the hospital bed, so small and pitiful, so different from the boisterous, happy man who used to lift him up in the air when he was little and affectionately wrestled with him when he was older. Now Stig knew that he was going to die. If he ended up in the hospital, it was only a matter of time.

  He wished he could raise his hand to stroke Lilian’s cheek. Such a brief time they’d had together. Sure, they’d had their quarrels and even that low period, when he thought they might even go their separate ways, but they had managed to find their way back to each other. Now she would have to find someone else to grow old with.

  He would also miss Charlotte and the children. The child, he corrected himself, and felt a pang in his heart, a pain that was more than physical. It was the only positive thing he could see about what had happened. He was firmly convinced that there was life after death, a better place. Maybe he could meet the girl th
ere and find out what had actually happened.

  He felt Lilian’s hand on his cheek. Unconsciousness began to dissolve reality, and he gratefully shut his eyes. It would be pleasant at least to escape from the pain.

  The wind whipped at him as he walked toward Morgan’s little cabin. Ernst’s enthusiasm had dissipated somewhat on the way over, but he was excited again now that he had his prey within reach.

  An authoritative knock would launch his road to victory, and it was rewarded a few seconds later with the sound of footsteps inside. Morgan’s thin face appeared in the doorway, and in his odd, monotone voice he said, ‘What do you want?’

  His direct question took Ernst by surprise, and he had to regroup mentally for a moment before he spoke. ‘You have to come with me to the police station.’

  ‘Why?’ Morgan asked, and Ernst felt irritation creeping over him. What a bizarre person.

  ‘Because we need to talk to you about a few things.’

  ‘You took my computers. I don’t have my computers anymore. You took them,’ Morgan chanted, and Ernst saw an opportunity.

  ‘Precisely, and that’s why you have to come with me. So we can give you back your computers. We’re finished with them.’ Ernst was pleased with this stroke of genius.

  ‘Why can’t you bring them here? You took them from here.’

  ‘Do you want the computers or not?’ Ernst exploded, impatiently.

  After a moment of hesitation and some internal deliberation, the prospect of getting his computers back conquered Morgan’s reluctance to venture into uncharted territory.

  ‘I’ll come along. So that I can pick up my computers.’

  ‘Fine. Good boy,’ said Ernst, smiling to himself as Morgan went to fetch his jacket.

  They sat in silence during the whole trip to the station. Morgan stared out of the window on his side, and Ernst saw no reason to engage in small talk. He was saving his ammunition for the official interview. Then he would no doubt get the idiot to talk.