Still Waters (Sandhamn Murders Book 1)

by Viveca Sten

  The weight on her chest was just as palpable as before.

  The sound of footsteps on the gravel made her jump.

  “Are you sitting here all on your own?” Signe was standing there, looking at her.

  “It was such a lovely evening. I just wanted to watch the sunset.” Nora’s brave attempt to smile ended up as more of a grimace. She just couldn’t help it; the tears poured down her face.

  “But, my dear child, whatever’s happened?” Signe looked anxiously at Nora.

  “Nothing, really, it’s nothing.” She knew she didn’t sound particularly convincing.

  “But I can see something’s wrong. Come on, now. Tell me what’s happened.” Signe sat down on the chair next to Nora and gently touched her arm. “It can’t be that bad. Is it something to do with Henrik? Where is he, by the way?”

  “Out sailing,” Nora sobbed. “The twenty-four-hour race.”

  With the tears still flowing, she told Signe what had happened earlier that evening. She told her about the new job, the visit to the recruitment consultant, and Henrik’s reaction.

  Signe looked at Nora. The sun had gone down, and shadows were taking over. Nora could see the sorrows of a lifetime reflected in Signe’s eyes.

  “What do you want?” Signe asked.

  “I don’t know. Well, yes, I do. I want Henrik to want me to take that job.”

  “And if that doesn’t happen?”

  “Then I don’t know what I want. But how can I turn down an opportunity like this? What are they going to say at the bank if I do? And I hate working for my current boss. He’s an idiot.” The tears started again. “I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” By now Nora was crying so hard she was shaking.

  Signe took a handkerchief out of her pocket and passed it to Nora. “There, there,” she said. “My dear, there are many things you might bitterly regret in your life. I can promise you that turning down a job isn’t one of them.” Signe stroked Nora’s cheek. “You’re so young. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you and your wonderful boys to enjoy.”

  “Do you regret never having any children of your own?” The question slipped out before she could stop herself. She looked at Signe in horror. She had never asked anything like that before.

  “Sweetheart, of course I would have loved children of my own. But sometimes things don’t turn out the way you wish.” She gazed out over the sea and slumped slightly. “There are a whole lot of things that don’t turn out the way you wish. Things you regret when it’s too late.”

  Nora walked back to the house deep in thought.

  She brought in the cushions from the garden furniture and locked the outside door. The pelargoniums got a drop of water once the sun had gone down. Then she switched off the lights on the ground floor and went upstairs to the boys’ room.

  The only sound in the house was their gentle breathing as they slept.

  As usual Simon was lying on his knees as if in prayer, sleeping with his head buried deep in the pillow. She bent down and stroked his soft cheek. He was sweating slightly in his sleep, making the hair curl above his ears.

  She lifted him up and carried him to her own bed. He settled in without waking up. Slowly she got undressed and lay down beside him, as close to his warm little body as she could get. As the tears began to flow again she stroked his soft stomach, rising and falling as he breathed. She stared out into the darkness.

  FRIDAY, THE FOURTH WEEK

  CHAPTER 64

  When the digital clock showed 6:23, Nora abandoned the attempt to sleep.

  Simon was rolled up beside her in a little ball. He had thrown off the covers, but his forehead was still sweaty. Through the open window she could see clear blue sky.

  It was going to be another beautiful summer’s day.

  But it had been a terrible night.

  She had slept only intermittently, her muscles tensed to the breaking point. It was as if she had been lying as stiff as a board with her hands by her sides, constantly on alert. Time after time she had woken up, and before she remembered why, she had been overwhelmed by the pain in her chest. Then she had relived that dreadful conversation with Henrik, and the tears had begun to flow again.

  She had been tormented by terrifying dreams in which they split up. The house had to be sold, and the children were forced to leave their home.

  Logically, she was able to tell herself that it was just an ordinary argument, but her body knew better. The entire basis of their life together was at stake. That was how bad it was.

  She buried her nose in Simon’s warm back and felt the tears welling up again, but his warm little-boy smell made her smile in spite of herself. Whatever happened, she had the children.

  She forced herself to think about something else.

  Today they were going to Grönskär. She had been looking forward to visiting the lighthouse for ages; it was a well-known landmark throughout the archipelago. Excursions with the Friends of Sandhamn were always enjoyable, and Nora’s parents and Signe were coming, too.

  But how was she going to be able to control herself during the day? If her mother found out what had happened, she would have to tell her the whole sorry tale.

  That was unthinkable, especially with the children there.

  Better to say nothing at all, even if it meant pretending everything was fine. Strangely enough, she didn’t mind Signe knowing what had happened. She had no regrets about confiding in her; last night she had really needed someone to talk to. Besides, Signe wasn’t the kind of person who would offer advice unless she was asked.

  Unlike Nora’s mother.

  Nora took a deep breath and once again resolved to think about something else. Henrik would be back from the race soon enough, and then they would have to try to sort this out.

  Until then, she would just have to switch to autopilot.

  The boat to Grönskär was due to leave at nine thirty. The Friends had chartered a taxi boat to transport the forty participants. Everyone was to bring a picnic, plus a blanket to sit on. There would be a tour of the lighthouse, followed by a group picnic on the rocks nearby.

  She looked at the clock again; they didn’t need to leave for at least a couple of hours, but she might as well start packing the picnic basket. After all, it wasn’t as if she had anything better to do. She managed a bitter little smile and headed down to the kitchen.

  Yesterday’s pancakes would be filled with jam and rolled up for the boys. Nora would be happy with sandwiches. She prepared some cucumber slices and carrot sticks, then added a thermos of coffee, a big bottle of soda, and a selection of buns.

  She looked at the clock again. Quarter past seven. Still more than two hours to go.

  She sighed and started setting the table for breakfast, just to give herself something to do. She wondered if she would be able to disguise her red puffy eyes if she used enough mascara and foundation. Probably not.

  It would have to be dark glasses all day. Fortunately the sun was shining, so no one would wonder why.

  CHAPTER 65

  The boat was full of excited passengers. At least half of them were children, so the decibel level was high. Nora knew virtually everyone on board. Signe and Kajsa were sitting next to Nora’s parents. Eventually the crew cast off, and they set sail for Grönskär.

  They moored at Kolbranten just below the lighthouse. The old small-boat harbor on the northern side was shallow these days, but the sturdy concrete quay was easily able to accommodate larger boats.

  The sight of Grönskär was striking. The lighthouse was known as the Queen of the Baltic because of its beautiful silhouette. It was owned by the Archipelago Foundation, which was responsible for its upkeep and took excellent care of it. The current lighthouse keeper—or curator, to be more accurate—was really passionate when it came to the lighthouse and its future.

  The tower was almost eighty-f
ive feet high; it dominated the little island, which was no more than four hundred yards in length. The lighthouse rose up as a memorial to seafarers’ need for guidance during the hundreds of years when sailing ships sought safety in the sheltered harbor of Sandhamn.

  The curator was standing on the quayside, legs apart, ready to welcome the visitors. The guide, a cheerful resident of Sandhamn, held forth enthusiastically about the history of the lighthouse as she led the group to the entrance.

  “Grönskär lighthouse was designed by the famous architect Carl Fredrik Adelcrantz in 1770, and it was built of granite and sandstone. The lighthouse is octagonal, and the base is wider than the top. Originally an open coal fire was used, but in 1845 it was replaced by a so-called third-order lens using a colza oil lamp. In 1910 a kerosene lamp was introduced, combined with a shutter system that made it possible to produce different signals for the shipping lanes.” She paused and turned to Simon and Adam. “Just imagine, boys: before they installed an elevator, the poor lighthouse keeper had to carry every single sack of coal up all those steps—now that was hard work!”

  Simon gazed openmouthed at the guide. She smiled at him.

  “Can you guess how many steps there are?”

  Simon thought about it, then held up all his fingers. “More than this?”

  “A lot more.”

  “Don’t be silly. There must be hundreds,” Adam said to Simon, looking superior. He turned to the guide. “My brother isn’t very good at counting; he hasn’t started school yet.”

  She laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “Unfortunately you’re both wrong. There are ninety steps in total, and that’s plenty, I can tell you. Just wait until you’ve climbed them all.”

  She carried on with her talk.

  “The lighthouse was turned off in 1961, when it was replaced by the caisson lighthouse known as Revengegrundet just off Korsö. It was completely renovated in the 1990s with the help of government funding and now emits a faint green light. So there’s life in the old lady yet.”

  She pointed to the steps.

  “Feel free to go in, just a few of you at a time. There isn’t a great deal of room. Be careful you don’t trip—the steps are rather uneven.”

  Nora gripped Simon’s hand when it was their turn.

  In spite of the warm summer’s day it was cold and damp inside the tower. It was divided into four floors, but it was still quite tricky to climb the steps. They were slightly deeper than normal stairs, so Nora and Simon had to lift their legs a little bit higher each time. At one point they almost got lost when they went down a blind passageway that didn’t lead anywhere.

  When they had almost reached the top, Nora came to the conclusion that a person would have to be considerably fitter than she was to avoid panting with exertion. All those walks and bike rides over the summer, not to mention the jogging, ought to have produced better results than this!

  After the final landing they reached a small room where narrow white-painted wrought-iron steps led up to the lantern room. At the foot of these steps there was a green door leading out onto a small walkway that went all the way around the tower.

  “Can I go outside, Mom?” Simon looked at Nora.

  “Me, too!” Adam said.

  Nora opened the door and looked out. The distance from the ground was dizzying. She turned and spoke to the boys. “You can, but you must promise to be really, really careful. I don’t want to see anybody running around when we’re this high up! Do I make myself clear?”

  “Come with me, Adam, and hold my hand. At my age I could do with a young man to help me keep my balance.” Signe, who was standing behind Nora, reached out and firmly gripped Adam by the hand as they went outside.

  The view was fantastic. It was a clear day, and the sea lay spread out before them. The hundreds of islands and islets strewn across the water were indescribably beautiful. They could just see Almagrundet lighthouse on the horizon, even though it was many nautical miles away.

  Down below were the houses once occupied by the master lighthouse keeper, the lighthouse keeper, the assistant lighthouse keeper, and their families. They had recently been carefully restored.

  It must have been a harsh, desolate existence, especially for the women, Nora thought. Every household task had to be carried out with neither electricity nor running water, and the lighthouse had to be manned at all times, even during the dark days of autumn and winter, irrespective of the weather or the keeper’s health.

  These days it was almost impossible to imagine what it was like to live under those conditions, year after year. A life where the high point was probably a trip to Sandhamn, which in itself was no more than an isolated outpost.

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Signe turned to Nora, sighing with sheer pleasure. “I’ve been coming here ever since I was a little girl, and I never get tired of the view.”

  “Absolutely,” Nora said, gazing all around.

  Their guide had joined them on the walkway and rested her arms on the railing. “Did you know that the stone for the tower came from the island itself? It was taken straight from the rocks, then built up with crushed brick and Gotland chalk, among other things. That’s why it looks like a beautiful mosaic from a distance. Only the middle section is built of sandstone from Roslagen.”

  “Why is there a belt of gray stone right at the top?” Nora asked.

  “There are a number of different theories. The most likely is that the final delivery of sandstone failed to arrive, and in the end the builders just couldn’t wait any longer, so they used what they could get ahold of locally—which happened to be more gray stone.”

  “It’s incredible to think they could construct such a tall building in the middle of the archipelago without the technology we have today,” Nora said.

  “Even more incredible when you bear in mind that the original drawing wasn’t even a proper plan; it was a beautiful watercolor.”

  “There were no plans?” Signe asked, looking surprised. “I’ve never heard that before.”

  “It’s true. We have a master mason called C. H. Walmstedt to thank for the way the lighthouse looks. He was the one who made sure it was built using the watercolor as a guide, but there were no technical specifications to speak of when they started.”

  “Fantastic. Who would have thought it?” Nora was impressed.

  Simon tugged at Nora’s hand. “Can we go back inside now? I want to go right up to the top.”

  “Of course. Come on.”

  They went in through the green door, and Simon clambered up the narrow iron steps, which led to an ornate walkway. This took up most of the space inside the lantern room, which wasn’t big—no more than two yards in diameter. There was glass from floor to ceiling, with a small air vent in the corner. There was only space for a few people at a time.

  This wasn’t the place for anyone with vertigo, Nora thought.

  “Wow! You can see Sandhamn from here,” Simon said. “Adam, look!” he shouted down.

  In the middle of the lantern room was the new lamp, installed in 2000 when the lighthouse was relit.

  “Simon, do you know why the lamp shines with a green glow?” Nora pointed to the prisms and the lens, which was covered with a piece of fabric.

  Simon looked at her. “Because it’s a nice color?”

  “No, sweetheart, it’s because the lighthouse is called Grönskär. Grön means green, so a green light is perfect. Green for Grönskär.”

  After they had finished looking around the lighthouse and eaten their picnic, Nora decided to visit the little museum, which was housed in the old paraffin store. Her mother went with her, while the boys stayed with their grandfather and Signe.

  As she stood leafing through the beautifully illustrated books, she recalled the conversation with Thomas and his colleague the other evening. They had talked about the rat poison that had bee
n used to kill Kicki Berggren. She had kept meaning to ask her mother where she had bought the liquid rat poison they used to have at home, but recent events, not least the conversation with Henrik, had made her forget all about it.

  The answer she got from her mother made her grab her cell phone right away. She had to tell Thomas at once.

  CHAPTER 66

  Thomas answered. He was sitting at his desk in the police station, surrounded by papers strewn all over. There was a mug of cold tea in front of him. Caller ID told him it was Nora.

  “Guess what Mom told me,” she said. “The rat poison we had at home when I was little actually came from Sandhamn. She bought it in the old general store that used to be where the Divers Bar is now.”

  “OK. So the poison we think killed Kicki Berggren used to be available on Sandhamn.”

  “Exactly. The shop closed at the end of the seventies. Mom also said she still uses the same stuff if they ever get mice.”

  “So that means the poison is still effective after more than twenty-five years.” Thomas leaned back in his chair, frowning. “Is that possible?”

  “I’ve no idea. You should probably ask someone from Anticimex, but Mom says it works.”

  Thomas tried to put his thoughts into words. “So if we assume the murderer bought the poison on Sandhamn, that could mean he’s had a house on the island for at least twenty-five years. He fell silent for a moment, then went on. “On the other hand, he could have gotten the poison just about anywhere. It must have been on sale everywhere.”

  Fahlén had owned a house on Sandhamn for about fifteen years. Before that he had rented a place in Trouville for a long time. It had to be at least twenty-five years altogether. On the other hand, he was now in the hospital, possibly due to warfarin poisoning. But it was definitely worth following up.