The Ninth Grave

by Stefan Ahnhem

  She decided to fish some apples out of the garbage can and rinsed off the coffee grounds and other detritus. Every bite was sheer enjoyment, and she could feel her body sucking up all the energy from the sweet juice long before it reached her stomach.

  She went back out into the hall, turned on the light and opened the bathroom door. She groped along the wall to the switch and pushed it several times, but it wouldn’t turn on. Instead she lit the block candles that were lined up along the inside edge of the tub and started running the water.

  She threw her clothes in a pile on the floor, sat on the toilet and peed while she studied her tender foot, which was seriously swollen. Then she climbed into the steaming bath. The heat from the water stung her skin and it almost felt like she was getting a first-degree burn. But it was a lovely pain, and she leaned back and let the warmth thaw her out.

  She closed her eyes and was about to doze off when an idea made her sit up. Why hadn’t she thought about it before? No one knew where she was and what had happened. She stepped out of the water, wrapped a towel around her, and hurried through the hall, dripping all over the living room until she reached the phone.

  She could see a young couple having dinner with friends in the building opposite. It could have been her and Carsten. Two windows down money changed hands and new cards were dealt, and in the adjacent apartment someone was having a party with lots of colourful drinks. Everyone seemed happy and indifferent to what went on in the darkness outside their little bubble.

  Until the day they were affected.

  She picked up the phone and dialled directory assistance. First she would contact Klippan. Then she would have to call Sleizner and ask him to send Richter out to the airport garage. She would take care of Carsten last, so that they could talk while she bathed.

  But there was no signal. She pressed the dial button several times, but the line was dead. They had already spoken about cancelling the landline service and switching over to cell phones completely, but they hadn’t made a final decision. Besides, Carsten was against it.

  Then she felt along the cord from the base and realized the line had been severed.

  63

  HE’D HAD TIME TO change his mind several times during the taxi ride to Blasieholmen. At one point in Old Town he even asked the driver to turn around and drive him to Sonja’s studio instead. When he finally stepped into the hotel restaurant and saw Niva waiting on a barstool, he’d veered off into the washroom, splashed his face with water, and asked himself what the hell he was doing.

  Before he left the washroom he checked his phone one last time and saw that Sonja had still not broken the silence. He decided to give her one last chance and dialled her number. If she answered, he would leave right away and take the first taxi home.

  As the ring tone sounded, he pictured her looking at the phone, seeing that it was him, and then setting it back down again.

  ‘You’ve reached Sonja Risk. Unfortunately, I can’t take your call right now.’

  ‘Hi, it’s just me,’ he said, as two boisterous men entered and stood at the urinals. ‘I just wanted to check in and see how the Tosca square tasted. I thought you might want to take a little break from the brushes and grab a drink. We could meet at Mårten Trotzig, so you don’t have far to go to get back to the studio. Kiss kiss.’ He hung up and regretted it immediately. Once again she was the one making him crawl, even though he had nothing to be ashamed of.

  Niva was still sitting at the bar at the back of the restaurant. She was picking up an olive from a martini glass with a toothpick while she busied herself with her cell phone. She always looked good. There was something about her long, narrow body in combination with her short, almost boyish haircut that had made most men – and women – at the police station turn to get a second look.

  Today, if possible, she looked even better. Her lips were dark red and a silver necklace with coloured stones that matched her bracelet was hanging around her neck. The short, tight skirt revealed most of her crossed legs. She’d started working out. Her shoulders and arms were considerably more defined than Fabian remembered and her posture was almost perfect.

  The cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and looked at it.

  If the mountain doesn’t come to Muhammad, I guess Muhammad comes to the mountain.

  He read the message again, but he still didn’t get it. The sender’s number was anonymous.

  ‘A Hendrick’s and tonic.’

  Fabian looked up from the phone and saw a waiter standing in front of him with a full highball glass on a serving tray.

  ‘Ordered by the lady over there.’ The waiter handed over the drink and nodded towards Niva, who waved back.

  Fabian took a deep breath and walked towards her.

  ‘I was starting to doubt that you would ever show up.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Fabian, taking the stool beside her. ‘But who could resist a promised present?’

  Niva answered with a smile. ‘A drink first.’ She raised her glass without releasing his gaze. ‘To not letting doubt stand in the way.’

  Fabian raised his glass and took a sip. It was one of the best drinks he’d ever had. It was still very carbonated and the bubbles shot up over the surface and spread the aroma of sprinkled lemon, while the perfectly balanced ratio of gin and tonic washed down his throat. It was so good that he had to take another sip before setting the glass down on the marble countertop.

  ‘So, how’s the investigation going?’ Niva set down her phone.

  ‘I assume you know that the perpetrator, Ossian Kremph, was arrested and is now dead.’

  ‘In other words, it’s over.’

  Fabian wondered whether he should tell her what he really thought, but decided to nod instead. ‘Niva,’ he looked her in the eyes. ‘To be honest, I don’t know what I’m doing here, besides getting that promised present, of course.’

  Niva laughed and smiled. ‘You never change. You’re still just as bad at lying as you used to be. I think you know exactly why you’re here, which is why you’re scared.’

  ‘Scared? What should I be afraid of?’

  ‘Don’t ask me.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m not the one who goes and hides in the washroom or asks the taxi driver to turn around.’

  Fabian didn’t know what to say. How could she know about that? But before he had time to answer she leaned over and kissed him. He didn’t want to, or rather, he wanted to, but it wasn’t a good idea. Yet he couldn’t resist the light breath against his cheek, the soft lips and coiled tongue that tasted of gin and vermouth, and the heat from someone else’s body.

  Fabian couldn’t remember the last time he and Sonja had been so close – much less when they’d last kissed. He dismissed the thoughts of leaving. Instead he let his body’s needs take over and let their tongues play. However much he wanted to, he had passed the point where he could say no.

  He put his hand on her leg and felt the heat radiate up through his palm and waken parts of him that had been dormant for far too long. Her thigh was one of the smoothest he’d ever touched. His hand continued upward and he noted her breathing deepened. She parted her legs slightly as if to accentuate the obvious.

  His hand danced along her thigh and continued under her dress. ‘We could get a room here,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘If there are any vacancies.’ The words came automatically, and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

  ‘There are.’ She emptied her glass and nodded to the bartender for another. ‘But maybe you should answer first.’

  Fabian didn’t know what she was talking about until she waved her phone at him.

  ‘Who knows, maybe it’s important,’ she said.

  ‘Who knows, maybe I’ve already gone to bed and I’m sound asleep.’

  ‘Maybe.’ She fished out his vibrating phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and looked at the display with an inscrutable smile.

  ‘Who is it?’ He reached for the phone.

  ‘Haven’t you gone to
bed?’ She held up the phone in the air so he couldn’t reach it and only gave in after it had stopped ringing. Then she took a sip from the fresh dry martini the bartender had just put in front of her.

  The missed call was from Malin, who had probably heard the news about Kremph’s suicide. In any event, she was likely feeling well enough to watch TV, even though she was under observation at Stockholm South General Hospital.

  ‘Come now,’ said Niva, placing her hand over his fly.

  Fabian set down the phone, resumed the kiss, and let her hand continue. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he really should call Malin and tell her his suspicions about Kremph’s innocence, even though he’d promised her husband to stay away.

  So when his cell phone started vibrating again he took the call. ‘Hi, I just saw that you’d called and was about to—’

  ‘What are you talking about? I didn’t call you.’ To Fabian’s surprise it wasn’t Malin on the other end, but Sonja. He felt like he had just made a hazardous U-turn in the middle of the freeway right over the median and could only pray that he survived.

  ‘Sorry, I’d just fallen asleep and must have been dreaming.’

  Niva rolled her eyes and focused on her drink.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just read your message now and really wanted to thank you for the coffee and Tosca.’

  ‘It was nothing. I hope it was good.’

  ‘It was perfect. And evidently it was just what I needed because since then I’ve got a lot done.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Fabian exchanged a glance with Niva. ‘But listen, I don’t want to disturb—’

  ‘You’re not – and I need a break anyway. So if your offer still stands…’

  ‘Ah, that would have been really nice, but I don’t know now.’ He thought feverishly about how he should continue. ‘I’d hoped that Matilda would be asleep, but she’s woken up several times and been really worried.’ He turned his gaze towards Niva, who put her hand to her mouth and mimed a yawn.

  ‘Worried about what?’

  ‘About us – that we’re going to separate. Right now that seems to be all she thinks about.’

  ‘Do you want me to come home?’

  ‘No, it’s okay. Keep on working. I’ll take care of it.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that actually: we have to stop fighting in front of the kids.’

  ‘We should stop fighting altogether.’

  He could hear her sigh on the other end. ‘Can I talk to her?’

  ‘Uh… Sorry?’

  ‘Matilda. Can I talk to her?’

  ‘Honey, she just fell back asleep.’

  ‘Okay, but you can call when she wakes up.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ He looked at Niva, who was tapping her watch and throwing out her arms. ‘Listen, I hope your inspiration continues. I’ll see you when you come home.’ He ended the call and took a big gulp of his drink. But it was already just as flat as he felt.

  Niva looked him in the eyes. He wanted to explain and try to put his confused emotions into words, but she got there first.

  ‘Fabian, it’s okay. I can wait.’

  ‘Wait for what?’

  Niva cracked a smile and ran her fingers through her hair.

  ‘Niva, if you think it’s going to be the two of us—’

  She put her finger over his mouth and hushed him. ‘You’re still so full of ideals. It’s lovely, almost a little sweet, but most of all it’s naïve. Although it doesn’t matter. You’ve kept your promise and treated me to a drink, and now I intend to keep mine.’

  Fabian didn’t understand what she was talking about.

  ‘That was why you came here, have you forgotten? I promised you a present. You’ll find it in your phone.’ She stepped down from the barstool, put her middle finger between her legs, then pressed it against his lips. ‘Don’t call me again until you’re ready.’

  64

  THE REALIZATION RAN THROUGH Dunja like a cold wave of sweat. Her legs were about to collapse, even though her body felt stiff as a board. Nausea was overpowering her and the pieces of the apple she’d just eaten were on their way up. She just wanted to run and hide under the covers.

  Someone had been in her apartment and severed the phone cord, which also explained why the front door was unlocked and the yucca palm out in the stairwell, with the extra key hidden under the pot, was crooked. But who? And above all, why? Benny Willumsen had already had his chance with her in Kävlinge.

  Then she remembered the light in the bathroom that didn’t work and that the shower curtain had been completely closed. She’d noticed it, but hadn’t been able to think about anything other than sinking down into the steaming water. It was nothing unusual per se, except that Carsten was always on at her to leave it halfway open after she’d showered, so that the tile would dry properly and wouldn’t start to get mouldy in the corners.

  She set the cordless phone down on the couch, tightened the towel around her body and went back into the hall, where she skilfully stepped in places where she knew the old wooden floor wouldn’t creak. Once she was in the kitchen, she picked up the meat cleaver from the magnetic knife strip, and went back out into the hall and stopped outside the bathroom.

  She hesitated; perhaps she should leave the apartment and ask a neighbour to use their phone. But she wasn’t wearing any clothes and she hadn’t heard anyone other than herself since she came home. If someone was after her, he had already had half an hour to do something.

  No, she thought, whoever it was, he was surely far away by now.

  She went into the bathroom, and moved towards the drawn shower curtain, her heart pounding adrenaline into her blood. With the meat cleaver in one hand, she took a deep breath and tore the curtain to the side with the other.

  It was empty and besides her razor on the floor, everything looked normal. She leaned down to pick it up, wondering when she’d last changed the blades. Suddenly a cord was pulled around her neck stopping the supply of oxygen and forcing her to drop the razor and the cleaver, which landed only a few millimetres from her left big toe.

  She’d already imagined this situation and had reviewed the different possibilities over and over again in her mind, but she hadn’t envisioned it happening right now. In some ways she was surprised that she hadn’t had her fair share of life-threatening experiences yet as a police officer, even though she had anticipated it the moment she submitted her application to the Academy. She’d wondered how she would react, what would go through her mind and how it would feel.

  Nothing came close to what she’d imagined. Strangely, she wasn’t afraid or nervous. Even though she might only be moments away from death she did not give it a second thought. She wasn’t even surprised that someone was actually in her home. She still had no idea who it was, and truthfully she didn’t care right now. She could only think about one thing: surviving – at any cost.

  She needed the meat cleaver. She moved at lightning speed to get two fingers from both her right and left hand in between her neck and the cord. Now she had at least bought herself a few seconds and could keep it from cutting into her neck, but she still couldn’t get any air.

  All of a sudden, she felt a jerk and fell backwards. But she didn’t hit the tile floor, instead she was being dragged on her back, her hands holding the cord. She tried to see what the intruder looked like, but didn’t have time before she was pulled up and then down again into warm water.

  The sound of her heart was much louder now and it pumped oxygen-deficient blood around with increasing desperation. She could see his head like a dark, hovering shadow outside the tub, too far for her to reach with kicking legs, unlike the candles that fell down and went out one by one.

  If she didn’t get air soon it would all be over. Her body had started to give up and was shutting down one bodily function after the other from her head all the way to her feet. Soon her arms wouldn’t function either.

  She made an impulsive decision to remove her fingers from und
erneath the cord. Now, more than ever, time was of the essence. She grabbed one of the block candles that was still flickering on the edge of the tub and held it up towards the dark shadow. Her strength was gone, and the rules of physiology dictated that she should have dropped the candle – but she didn’t.

  Then she watched the light from the fire spread across the shadow and grow in strength. Finally, the cord was released from around her throat and she could raise her head out of the water and get closer to the fire that now illuminated the whole bathroom.

  She filled her lungs with air, coughed, and took a few more quick breaths, before she realized that it was Benny Willumsen who was on fire, not the room. She had no idea what was going on, but crawled out of the bathtub as fast as she could, and crept out of the bathroom, away from his screams.

  One way or another she had to get out of the apartment, but the security gate was locked. It had cost over ten thousand kroner, and according to Carsten, it was more important than the last-minute trip to Rhodes she had wanted to take so badly.

  From the hall she could see Willumsen leaning over the bathtub with his head under the water. She could have easily slipped into the room, grabbed the meat cleaver that was still in the shower, and chopped into his back with as much force as possible. But she couldn’t move. It might have been because of her lack of oxygen or maybe she still couldn’t understand how it could be him.

  She didn’t even react when he turned towards her, stood up, and carefully felt his burned scalp. Only once he grasped the cleaver did the paralysis release its hold. She pulled the key out of the bathroom door, slammed it shut and locked it from the outside right before the meat cleaver penetrated the wood as if it were made of papier mâché. She fled into the living room, and started turning the lights off and on over and over again, so that someone in one of the buildings opposite would catch sight of her.