by Viveca Sten
Thomas weighed the phone in his hand. Who are you? he thought. Where’s home?
CHAPTER 25
Simon had woken up when his grandmother called, but he was in a good mood and cheerfully ran down to the bakery for Nora. Soon he was back with fresh rolls and vanilla buns.
“I’m going over to Fabian’s,” he mumbled with his mouth full.
Nora was grateful for the breathing room; she couldn’t handle a chatty son in the middle of all the chaos.
She sat in the kitchen with a bun and a cup of extra-strong coffee, even though the acidic feeling in her stomach suggested that she shouldn’t drink any more coffee for a while. However, maybe it would chase away the exhaustion. Her ears were still buzzing.
As usual, she brushed the pearl sugar from the top of the still-warm bun as the aroma of cardamom filled her nostrils. She had already checked her blood sugar and taken her insulin. Calories instead of sleep, she thought; not exactly interchangeable values.
She heard footsteps on the stairs, and much to Nora’s surprise, Adam appeared in the doorway. It was way too early for her older son, who liked his bed.
“Morning, sweetheart,” she said, trying to sound bright and cheery. “What are you doing up at this hour?”
For once he was wearing pajama bottoms, but the legs were too short. He was going to be tall, just like his father.
“Who are those girls in Wilma’s room? Why isn’t she there?”
How did he know? Then Nora remembered she’d left the door ajar so she’d hear if they woke up.
“Things have been a bit chaotic,” she began, deciding to give him a sanitized version of the truth. “Felicia and Ebba are the granddaughters of some friends of your grandma. I brought them home during the night, and they’re staying until their parents can come and collect them.”
“Were they drunk?”
“What makes you say that?”
“It stinks in there, and everyone around here gets drunk at Midsummer.”
Why did she persist in thinking of Adam as a child, when it was patently clear that he was growing up?
“So where’s Wilma?” Adam asked as he opened the refrigerator.
Nora hesitated; what should she do? She didn’t want to scare him, but she couldn’t hide the truth. “Wilma hasn’t come home yet.”
“Wow,” Adam said, sitting down at the table clutching a carton of milk. “Has something happened?”
Nora placed her hand on his. “I hope not. I expect she’s stayed over with a friend somewhere.”
She offered him the last piece of her vanilla bun. He popped it in his mouth, then said, “I guess Jonas is furious?”
“More worried, I think. He’s asleep at the moment; he’s been out searching for her all night. I’m sure she’ll come home when she wakes up.”
Adam grinned. “You’d go nuts if I stayed out for so long.”
“I would.” Nora couldn’t help smiling back at him. “I’d go absolutely crazy. Promise me you’ll never do anything like that.”
She got up and went over to the countertop, where the fresh bread lay on the cutting board. “Would you like a sandwich?”
“Mmm.” He yawned loudly.
“By the way,” Nora went on, “it seems as if Grandma and Grandpa are coming over today.”
“Why?”
“They want to see you and Simon. It’s been a while.”
“Dad said we’d be going over to Ingarö next week when we’re with him.”
Monica and Harald Linde had a country house on the island of Ingarö, outside Stockholm. Nora had endured many Christmases there over the years. It was one of the traditions from her marriage that she definitely didn’t miss.
“Right. Is Marie going with you?”
Why had she said that? Nora regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth. She didn’t want to be one of those mothers who interrogated the kids about her ex-husband’s new squeeze. She cut a thick slice of bread and spread it generously with liver pâté.
“Don’t know.” Adam shrugged, and Nora quickly changed the subject.
“Going back to Wilma. Did she say anything to you about who she was meeting last night?”
“No.”
The response came quickly. Too quickly? Nora passed him the sandwich and sat down opposite him.
“Did she, Adam? If so, it’s really important that you tell me.” Did he seem ill at ease? “Do you know where she is?” Nora’s tone was deadly serious.
“No . . . but I do know there’s this guy she likes; she was hoping to see him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Mattias.”
“How do you know?”
He was definitely embarrassed now. “Remember yesterday when she was on the phone for ages, down by the jetty? She was sitting there, writing a name on a magazine while she talked, the same name over and over again.” He looked guilty, as if he’d been spying. “I saw it when you told me to gather everything up,” he added quickly. “She must have written Mattias twenty times on the cover.”
“Do you know his last name?”
“Same as Malena’s I guess—he’s her older brother.”
Nora knew Wilma was meeting Malena, but she didn’t know anything about a brother.
“And what’s Malena’s last name?”
“How should I know? Check online.”
The thought that Wilma might be with Malena and her older brother was reassuring.
Adam crammed the last of the sandwich into his mouth, then got up and left the kitchen without saying another word or making any attempt to clean up after himself. A few seconds later, Nora heard the sound of the television coming from his room.
She glanced at the clock. Monica would be here in a few hours. All of a sudden, the thought of her ex-mother-in-law’s visit was just too much for her. There was only one thing to do; the situation could hardly get any worse.
She grabbed her cell phone and rang Henrik’s number. She regretted it almost immediately, but it was too late.
“Henrik Linde.”
“Hi, it’s Nora.”
“Good morning.” He sounded as if he was in a good mood. “How are you? I believe Mom’s been after you?”
“You could say that. I have two teenage girls here; I collected them from the police outreach center in the middle of the night, and I haven’t slept a wink.”
“That sounds like my darling mother in a nutshell.”
Was he smiling? Nora didn’t recognize the playfulness in her ex-husband’s voice.
She gave him a summary of what had happened, but without mentioning Wilma. That aspect of the situation had nothing to do with him.
“But that’s not the . . .” She was going to say “the worst” but changed her mind at the last minute. “That’s not the only thing I wanted to talk to you about.”
“OK, what is it?”
“Your mother is on her way to Sandhamn with your father. She insisted on coming over to help out, and they’re intending to catch the eleven o’clock ferry from Stavsnäs.”
She hoped Henrik wouldn’t fly off the handle; she couldn’t cope with that right now.
“And that’s the last thing you need.”
The tone was sympathetic. This wasn’t like Henrik at all; he almost always took his mother’s side.
“Yes. Yes, it is.” She took a deep breath. “I wondered if you could have a word, get her to change her mind?”
Henrik laughed. “No problem, I’ll give her a call right away. How are the boys?”
Nora smiled when she thought about her sons.
“Absolutely fine. Simon’s gone over to see Fabian, and Adam’s chilling out in front of the TV. Do you want to speak to him?”
“No, don’t disturb him, but give them my love. And don’t worry about Mom. I’ll persuade her to stay home.”
Nora put the phone down on the kitchen table. Stared at it. Had Henrik really taken her side, just like that?
CHAPTER 26
Whe
n Thomas opened the door of the police outreach center, Jens Sturup was already there, together with Staffan Nilsson and Poul Anderberg. There was a plate of pastries on the table, and the room was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The hands of the clock were approaching eleven.
They could hear the weekend duty team upstairs, packing away the last of the equipment to be shipped back to the station. The motor home had already been driven to the steamboat jetty to wait for the ferry.
Just as Thomas sat down at the table, the door opened again, and Adrian Karlsson came in, followed by Anna Miller and another officer with dark stubble. Jens Sturup nodded in the direction of the stranger.
“This is Harry Anjou; he’ll be working with you on the investigation team starting tomorrow. He’s on a rotation, and he’s finished his six months with us.”
Harry shook hands with Thomas.
“So you’ll have firsthand knowledge of what’s been going on around here,” Thomas said. “That’s going to be invaluable.”
He had just been informed that the parents were on their way. He saw the dead boy’s face in his mind’s eye, the tousled hair against the greenery.
While traveling from the scene to the outreach center, he had tried to think through the situation. There was an almost unnatural calm on the island now, but he knew from experience how rowdy the previous evening and night must have been.
Somewhere among the hundreds of boats, there were people who knew exactly what had gone on around twelve hours earlier, when a teenager was murdered. But how were the police going to track them down before the jetties began to empty and everyone headed home?
It was an impossible task.
Jens Sturup cleared his throat, bringing Thomas back to the present moment. It was time to start the meeting.
“OK,” Thomas began. “Shall we summarize what we know so far? The victim is probably one Victor Ekengreen; we found a cell phone in his pocket that belongs to a person by that name. The age also seems to fit; he was sixteen.”
“Victor,” Adrian Karlsson said. “That was the name of the boyfriend who was reported missing last night.”
Thomas turned to him. “What did you say?”
“We picked up a young girl down by the harbor; she was completely out of it and had somehow lost her friends. Eventually another girl turned up, asking about her; that was how we found out who she was. The girl we picked up has a boyfriend called Victor.”
Adrian flicked through his notebook, then went on: “The boat where the girls had started out is moored at the first pontoon in the Yacht Club marina. I was there a few hours ago, around five, but I only found two brothers, plus the older brother’s girlfriend. The missing boyfriend wasn’t on board.”
“Where are the girls now?” Thomas asked.
“Their parents are in southern Sweden, in Skåne, but they know a woman who lives on the island, and she’s looking after the two girls until the families can get here.”
What had Nora told him earlier? Thomas racked his brains. Something about collecting two young girls from the police in the middle of the night. Could it be her? It sounded like a bizarre coincidence.
“We need to make sure none of this group leaves the island until we’ve spoken to them,” he said.
Adrian got to his feet. “I’ll go right to the boat.”
“Good,” Jens Sturup said. “Take Anna with you and bring in everyone you find on board.”
“We need to speak to all of them,” Thomas reiterated.
He had just received a text message informing him that Margit Grankvist, his partner in the Nacka police force, was on her way to Sandhamn. Until then, he would have to rely on the colleagues who were already there.
Adrian paused in the doorway. “There was a knife fight last night involving a biker gang. Shouldn’t we check them out, in view of what’s happened?”
“When was this?” Thomas asked.
“Around midnight,” Sturup said. “I’ll make sure you have all the documentation.”
Thomas nodded and made a note, then turned to Staffan Nilsson. “Anything you’d like to add?”
“We’ve carried out a forensic examination of the area where the body was found, which is also the scene of the crime. It’s clear that Victor Ekengreen died as a result of multiple blows to the head. Death occurred at some point yesterday evening; we don’t yet have an exact time. Our preliminary estimate would be before twenty-two hundred hours.”
“Where’s the body now?” Sturup asked.
“We’ve moved it from Skärkarlshamn; the Sailors Hotel has put a chalet at our disposal. The maritime police are ready to transport it to Stavsnäs, but I’m thinking it might be better to carry out formal identification here on the island?”
He looked around as if he was expecting objections, but when none came, he went on: “I mean by the boy’s parents, of course, not his friends. I’m not trying to traumatize teenagers for life.” He turned to Thomas. “Didn’t you say the family’s on the way?”
“I did. They have a place on an island to the north of Sandhamn; they should be here within half an hour.”
“Poor bastards,” Poul Anderberg muttered. He was a kindly man approaching sixty. His hair was thinning, and his bald patch was beaded with sweat.
“We’re going to need to contact everyone who lives nearby to check if they saw or heard anything,” Thomas said. “There were several people camping in the forest, so we need to question them before they disappear.”
“Are there any eyewitnesses?” Harry Anjou asked.
“Not as far as we know, at the moment. The scene of the crime is well hidden from view.” Thomas glanced at Sturup. “Can you deal with the neighbors and campers, make sure someone has a word with them and gets their contact information? I need to see the parents as soon as they arrive, then I want to speak to Victor’s friends. Can we use the outreach center as our base?”
“No problem. Our overtime figures are going to go through the roof, but we’ll deal with that later.” Sturup gave a wry smile.
“Is there a priest on the island?” Thomas asked, looking around the table. “It would be good to have someone with me when the parents get here.”
“I have no idea,” Sturup said.
“OK, I can check with a friend,” Thomas said.
Nora might know if it was possible to find a priest. He would have to go over to the Brand villa anyway to speak to Victor’s girlfriend and the other girl.
As if Nora knew he was thinking about her, his cell phone buzzed. He glanced at the display: a text message from Nora.
Have you heard anything about Wilma?
So Wilma was still missing; Thomas had forgotten all about Jonas’s daughter.
Was there a connection?
CHAPTER 27
The suntanned man at the wheel of the impressive motor launch was wearing dark aviators. Thomas still recognized him right away.
Johan Ekengreen was one of the country’s most talked-about venture capitalists, with a background as a company director. He was equally well known for his hardline approach and his business sense. He was in his sixties, but the fair hair was still thick, and he looked powerful, despite the fact that he had just been told about his son’s death.
Thomas realized that Victor’s dramatic demise would be all over the news. He hadn’t taken that into account until now because he hadn’t made the connection with the man listed as the victim’s father and the famous Johan Ekengreen.
He waited on the jetty as two harbor workers in red Royal Swedish Yacht Club jackets helped to moor the Delta 42. With practiced movements, they fixed all the fenders in place between the pontoon and the hull so the boat didn’t scrape the side of the jetty.
The powerful engine gave one last roar before it was switched off.
Ekengreen remained standing at the wheel, as if he was steeling himself for what was to come. Then he took out the key, bent down, and shouted something through the doorway leading to the cabin.
A woman in white jeans and a black top, with blond hair, appeared on the top step. She, too, was wearing dark sunglasses. She suddenly stopped, as if she didn’t quite know where to go.
Thomas went over to them. A gust of wind carried the smell of gas from the station by the next pontoon.
“Thomas Andreasson,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m a detective inspector with the Nacka police. It’s good that you were able to get here so quickly.”
Johan Ekengreen jumped ashore, then helped his wife off the boat. When he shook Thomas’s hand, it was clear that he was no longer a young man. The skin beneath his chin was loose, and he had liver spots on his hands.
Madeleine Ekengreen also looked older at close quarters, but the age difference between husband and wife must be at least fifteen years, Thomas guessed, if not more. Madeleine let out a sob and clutched Johan’s arm. She lowered her head to avoid meeting Thomas’s gaze in spite of the dark glasses.
“Are you sure it’s him?” Johan said hoarsely. “It could be a mistake. These things happen. We won’t blame you.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, the police have a lot to do. What if there’s been a mix-up?” he went on. “Maybe it’s not Victor at all. That has to be a possibility, surely?”
Thomas was filled with compassion, but there was nothing he could do; he had to ask them to accompany him. It would be good to get the formal identification done as soon as possible so that the body could be sent to the forensic pathologist in Solna.
He hadn’t had time to ask Nora if there was a priest on the island, but Anna Miller was meeting them outside the Sailors Hotel. It would be better if there were two of them, and in this case, he felt it would be helpful to have a woman present, at least for Victor’s mother.
Irrationally he wished Margit had been there; she was much better when it came to handling situations like this. Thomas always felt uncomfortable when faced with the grief that was so mercilessly exposed after the loss of someone close. However hard he tried, he couldn’t find the right words and ended up sounding clumsy and awkward.
Johan Ekengreen seemed to be waiting for Thomas to say something.
