Silenced: A Novel

by Kristina Ohlsson

  He hesitated.

  ‘I don’t know what sort of picture you’ve formed of Johanna, but the impression I got from what Jakob told me was that things weren’t quite right with her.’

  There was a pause. Alex’s brain was working overtime on processing all this new information.

  ‘Did she suffer from depression, too?’

  Erik Sundelius compressed his lips and looked as though the question had put him on the spot.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not depression. But I must stress that I only ever met Johanna once or twice in person. She wasn’t just standoffish, according to Jakob. She was full of anger and contempt that she openly showed to her family. The things he told me made her sound sick, disturbed.’

  ‘Maybe she had good reason for it?’ said Alex. ‘Her anger, I mean.’

  Erik Sundelius shrugged.

  ‘Well if she did, then that reason wasn’t clear, even to Jakob. Anyway, the only thing I can say for sure is that his daughter’s lack of peace of mind troubled him deeply.’

  Alex decided it was time to wind up the interview.

  ‘So to summarise, what you’re saying is . . .’

  ‘That I don’t for a moment subscribe to the theory that Jakob Ahlbin murdered his wife and then shot himself. Of course I can’t claim a person who is dead is really alive, but I can tell you straight off that she was not a drug addict.’

  ‘You sound very sure of all that,’ said Alex.

  ‘I am,’ Erik Sundelius said deliberately. ‘The question is, how sure are you of your conclusions?’

  As he spoke, he turned his head and looked out of the window. Almost as if expecting to see Jakob Ahlbin coming along through the slushy snow.

  Winter had chosen to arrive in several bursts. When the first snow came, early in the new year, he had assumed that was that. But it never was, of course.

  He sighed, suddenly feeling very tired.

  It was a matter of concern that Jakob had not understood the full extent of his problem until it was too late, but it was to some degree typical of him. He had sometimes felt the man had made a positive choice to live his life according to the meaning of his Christian name: Jakob, a controversial name of Hebrew origin, which some claimed to mean ‘may he protect’. It was an irony of fate that when he himself really needed help, nobody came to his rescue.

  They had always hoped a solution could be found before the situation got out of hand. They had relied on him acting rationally, but he had not. Jakob was an emotional, impulsive person and once he realised he was onto something, he refused to deviate from his chosen course. As if by the Lord’s blessing they had found out about the threats directed at him by the organisation Sons of the People and had decided to build on that, to scare him off. But Jakob had scented out his quarry and would not be put off.

  So then it ended the way it had to, he told himself afterwards. With a disaster that would have been all the greater if Jakob had been allowed to delve more deeply into what had come to his attention, which had initially pleased him so much.

  ‘This is a turning point. I’ve heard fantastic news!’ he had said, convinced he was talking to a friend.

  But the friend was shaken and demanded to know more. Unfortunately Jakob had clammed up, possibly starting to sense that his friend was double-dealing. So the identity of his original source remained unknown to the circle. The only problem still left to deal with.

  Then the telephone rang.

  ‘I’ve got a name,’ said the voice.

  ‘At last,’ he said, feeling a greater sense of relief than he cared to admit.

  The voice at the other end said nothing for a few moments.

  ‘There’s a man in Skärholmen the police have been to see. He could be the one we’re looking for.’

  He made a careful note of the few details the voice was able to supply. Said thank you and hung up.

  So the wheels were rolling, most of them. The next day, another daisy would make his payment, and on Monday the main protagonist in the unfolding drama was expected back. Her arrival was warmly anticipated.

  He shook his head. Sometimes the very thought of her generated naked fear. What sort of person was she? Someone who was willing to sacrifice so much – and so many – for a single aim needed careful handling. Normal people did not do what she had done. And then the anguish gripped him again, his sense that everything could have been different returned. If only things had not happened so damned quickly. If only everyone had obeyed the rules.

  If only they had been able to rely on each other.

  Peder Rydh rang Ragnar Vinterman to let him know they were on their way, just as Fredrika rang Alex on his mobile.

  ‘I’m in the office,’ she said with an eagerness in her voice that Alex had not heard for months.

  ‘Why, for heaven’s sake?’ was all he could think of saying, concerned as he was for her health.

  ‘Something occurred to me, so I came in to do some thinking in peace. It’s those threats Jakob received.’

  Alex listened attentively to Fredrika’s conclusions about the emails and their content.

  ‘So you’re convinced it wasn’t Tony Svensson that sent the ones from other computers?’ Alex said doubtfully.

  ‘Yes, definitely,’ replied Fredrika. ‘On the other hand, I’m not so sure he didn’t know there were other people trying to put pressure on Ahlbin. I think we ought to interview him again, get to the bottom of why he went round to Jakob’s flat, looking for him. He could have been a messenger, willing or unwilling.’

  ‘Messenger sent by someone who didn’t want to reveal himself, you mean?’

  ‘Exactly. And that might also explain why Tony Svensson paid his visit to Jakob Ahlbin when Ronny Berg was already in custody. We missed it at the meeting yesterday – Tony Svensson must have been lying about his reason for going round there.’

  Alex swallowed. Almost from the outset, Fredrika had proved how swiftly she could switch between theories and draw reliable conclusions. If she had been a trained police officer Alex would have said she had a feeling for the job. But she wasn’t, so he did not really have a term for her, or her gift. Intuition, maybe?

  His silence left her the space to go on.

  ‘So I checked Tony Svensson’s phone lists again to see if anything odd showed up. And found he’d rung Viggo Tuvesson twice.’

  ‘Uhuh?’ Alex said quizzically, seeing with relief that Peder was finally off his mobile. ‘And who’s he?’

  ‘A police colleague of ours.’

  Alex braked sharply at a red light.

  ‘And how do we know that? I mean, are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure,’ said Fredrika, and Alex could hear that she was smiling. ‘Tony rang his work mobile, you see. I came across the number in our internal phone directory.’

  A car honked its horn behind them and Peder gave Alex a startled look.

  ‘It’s green,’ he said, as if he thought the fact might have passed his superior by.

  Alex hastily shifted his foot from the brake to the accelerator. Automatics were a gift to the human race, even if they weren’t good for the environment.

  ‘Well I’ll be damned,’ he muttered. ‘But there could be a logical reason for the contact, you know. I mean it hasn’t necessarily got anything to do with our case. I’ve never heard of this Viggo Tuvesson.’

  Peder raised an eyebrow and followed Alex’s side of the conversation with interest.

  ‘He’s with the Norrmalm district,’ Fredrika told him. ‘He and another officer were the first on the scene after the Ljungs found the bodies and called emergency services.’

  Alex felt his mouth go dry, and he glanced at Peder who looked as though he was dying to know what information Fredrika had just imparted.

  ‘Okay,’ he said into the phone. ‘We’ll get to work on this first thing on Monday. Before you go home, would you mind writing a summary of all this crap – if you’ll forgive a tired DCI his choice of words – and putting it on my desk?�
��

  In case you’re not in on Monday, he thought of saying.

  ‘Done,’ said Fredrika. ‘In case I’m not in on Monday.’

  He gave a smile.

  As they drove on towards Bromma, Alex put Peder in the picture.

  ‘She’s as sharp as a knife sometimes,’ Peder said spontaneously.

  ‘She certainly is,’ Alex concurred.

  As if he had never called her competence into question, though in fact he had done little else in her first few months with the group.

  This time, Ragnar Vinterman was not standing on the front steps to welcome his guests. They had to knock loud and long at the front door of the vicarage before he finally opened up.

  They had discussed how they would conduct the interview in the car on the way. Of all the people they had spoken to, Ragnar Vinterman stood out as the only one who still thought it likely that Jakob Ahlbin had killed himself. He was also the one most convinced that Karolina Ahlbin had a drug problem. This was causing them some concern, because he had been too close to Jakob Ahlbin for his impressions and opinions to be ignored.

  ‘I’m afraid I won’t be able to spare you very long this time,’ he said, the moment he showed his guests into the library where the interview was apparently to take place. ‘I’ve had a call from a parishioner whose husband has been ill for a long time, and he’s just died. She’s expecting me shortly.’

  Alex nodded.

  ‘We hope we won’t need to take up too much of your time,’ he assured the clergyman. ‘But some new questions have come up and I’d just like to try them out on you.’

  It was Ragnar Vinterman’s turn to nod.

  Alex observed him. Straight-backed, with his hands resting on the arms of his chair. A hunter, ready for action. Armed to the teeth. The situation felt familiar, like something out of a film Alex had seen.

  The Godfather, he thought, and almost laughed out loud. As if this were some Italian sit-down where the first thing you all do is put your gats on the negotiating table.

  Alex was baffled by the clergyman’s change of attitude. But he was in no mood for compromise, either; he wanted proper answers to his questions. He was sure that Peder, a silent presence at his side, sensed the mood as well.

  ‘Last time we met we were talking about Karolina Ahlbin’s drug habit,’ Alex began, leaning back on the sofa. ‘Could you hazard a guess as to when she got into all that?’

  Ragnar Vinterman leaned back, too. He had an almost impudent look on his face.

  ‘As I think I made plain to you last time,’ he said, ‘virtually everything I know, I heard from Jakob. So it’s hard for me to be precise on that.’

  He looked at Alex to make sure he was listening and understanding. Which he was.

  ‘But at a cautious estimate I’d say her problems started in her late teens.’

  ‘She went straight onto hard drugs?’

  ‘That I can’t say.’

  He’s backing off, thought Alex. Realises what he told us has been contradicted.

  ‘So did Jakob talk to you about this on a regular basis?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Ragnar Vinterman said firmly. ‘He did.’

  ‘How many years did Jakob spend hiding illegal migrants out at Ekerö?’ asked Alex, as if it were a natural extension of the conversation about his daughter’s drug use.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know that either,’ the clergyman said, crossing his legs.

  ‘But you know he did it?’

  ‘Everybody knew that,’ he said drily.

  ‘But you decided not to mention it last time we were here?’

  ‘I assumed it wasn’t relevant to the case as a whole. And I really didn’t want to blacken Jakob’s memory in front of the police.’

  Alex smiled.

  ‘How noble of you,’ he said before he could stop himself.

  Ragnar Vinterman’s face darkened, and Alex went on.

  ‘Were you involved in his activities yourself?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Was anyone else in the parish?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know.’

  Alex felt his frustration growing. He glanced at Peder.

  ‘Now you’ve had a few days to think about it,’ said Peder, ‘are you still convinced Jakob took his own life?’

  The clergyman went very quiet. His bearing and expression changed, as though a sudden shadow had passed over him.

  ‘Yes,’ he said clearly. ‘Yes, I am.’

  With ill-concealed eagerness, Alex leaned forward.

  ‘Tell us how you see it.’

  Ragnar Vinterman, mimicking Alex’s body language again, leaned forward, too.

  ‘I can’t say Jakob and I had a particularly close personal relationship. But as colleagues we were as close as it was possible to be. We exchanged confidences on a daily basis and had the same views on a great many questions of faith. So I think I can say I really did know Jakob. And believe me – he wasn’t in good shape. Not at all.’

  ‘His psychiatrist thinks otherwise,’ Alex said matter-of-factly.

  Ragnar Vinterman gave a snort.

  ‘Erik Sundelius? I lost confidence in him at a pretty early stage. Marja and I both begged Jakob to change doctor. But he was so damned stubborn, you know.’

  ‘And why did the two of you want him to change doctor?’

  ‘The man was irresponsible,’ replied the clergyman. ‘He would never adapt his methods, even though Jakob wasn’t responding to the treatment. I freely admit I was so concerned that I decided to check up on him.’

  That’s all we need, a vicar playing private investigator, Alex thought wearily.

  ‘What did you find out?’ asked Peder.

  ‘That my judgement was correct. He’s had two misconduct warnings from the Medical Council for – how shall I put it – “hazardous methods” used on high-risk patients; in each case, the patient ended up committing suicide. And he was prosecuted for the murder of his wife’s lover.’

  Seeing the expressions of surprise on Peder and Alex’s faces, he leant back in his seat with an air of great satisfaction.

  ‘But the police already knew all about that, of course,’ he said mildly.

  No, Alex thought, his jaw set doggedly. We didn’t.

  ‘Damn,’ Alex said in exasperation once he had started the car and backed rather too fast out of the vicar’s drive. ‘How the hell could we have missed that?’

  ‘We didn’t have any particular reason to check it out, did we?’ Peder said, and was interrupted by the ring of his mobile.

  Ylva. It was rarely good news when she rang.

  ‘Peder, Isak’s running a really high temperature,’ she said anxiously. ‘And he’s got a rash on his tummy. I’m taking him to the hospital, but I wanted to ask if you could look after David while we’re gone.’

  Fear caught Peder unawares. His son was ill and he wasn’t there. His permanently guilty conscience reared its head again.

  ‘I’ll be right there,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’m in the car with Alex. He can drop me off on the way back to HQ.’

  Alex looked at him as he rang off.

  ‘One of the boys is ill,’ he said. ‘Can you let me off at Ylva’s? If Fredrika’s in after all, maybe she could go to the Ljungs with you?’

  Alex nodded.

  ‘Fine by me.’

  In the short drive to what had once been Ylva and Peder’s shared home, Peder reviewed his situation in life for the hundredth time. The news that Pia Nordh was moving in with the repulsive Joar paled into insignificance. ‘Can you let me off at Ylva’s?’ he had said to Alex. As if it was an address like any other.

  There had been a time when he felt as if his heart was about to blow to smithereens in his chest. It was a bloody long time since he’d loved anybody like that.

  His mobile rang again. His brother this time.

  ‘Hiii,’ said Jimmy in his usual, rather slow way.

  ‘Hi,’ said Peder, and heard his brother laugh.

  It w
as sometimes a real blessing that Jimmy was so easy to entertain, so easy to make happy.

  ‘Something’s happened,’ Jimmy said excitedly.

  Peder laughed. ‘Something happening’ could mean anything from a royal visit to a new lampshade in his room.

  ‘I’ve got a girlfriend.’

  The words struck Peder dumb.

  ‘What?’ he said dopily.

  ‘A girlfriend. A proper one.’

  Peder gave an involuntary guffaw.

  ‘Are you happy?’ Jimmy asked expectantly.

  A warm feeling spread inside him and smoothed out some of the knots that had multiplied there.

  ‘Yes,’ said Peder. ‘What do you know, I am glad, in spite of everything.’

  A short time later, Fredrika and Alex parked outside the Ljungs’ flat on Vanadisplan. The Vasastan area had always appealed to Alex, he told Fredrika in an unusual moment of candour. He and Lena had agreed that the day they grew old they would get themselves a pied à terre in just this part of town, for overnight stays, to avoid simply mouldering away in their house out at Vaxholm. Fredrika felt uneasy as Alex’s expression shifted from open to pained in the course of talking about himself and his wife.

  That’s what it is, she thought. He’s worried about his wife.

  Alex took the lead as they went up the same staircase Fredrika and Joar had taken a few days before.

  They found the Ljungs’ door ajar when they got to the floor where their flat was.

  Alex gave an authoritative knock and Elsie Ljung came out to greet them.

  ‘We left the door open so we’d hear you coming,’ she said.

  They went with her into the living room, where her husband was waiting. They both looked tired and unhappy.

  ‘Let me assure you we won’t stay any longer than strictly necessary,’ said Alex, taking a seat in one of the armchairs round the coffee table.

  ‘We do want to help,’ sighed Sven Ljung, dramatically flinging his arms wide. ‘And it’s all over the media now, as well. Have you found Johanna?’