by Viveca Sten
Landin scratched his nose where the red rash covered his skin. “It doesn’t sound very plausible,” he said. “They rarely attack little boys.”
Nora went down to the kitchen to make breakfast. It was almost nine o’clock; she had woken later than usual. Her body felt slow and heavy; she had no energy at all.
The boys were still asleep, and it would probably be a while before they showed any signs of life. Adam was a typical teenager and would stay in bed until lunchtime unless someone woke him. Simon still liked to get up pretty early, but they had stayed up until after midnight to finish the movie.
The sky was clouded over, but the southwest-facing kitchen was still bright. The house was right on top of the hill known as Kvarnberget, so there was nothing to block the light. From the window, Nora could see almost all the way to Stavsnäs, or at least that’s what she imagined.
Over by Eknö, a white Vaxholm ferry was heading for Sandhamn, while behind it, a huge tanker had begun to turn so that it would pass to the west of the island on its way to the Baltic.
Nora’s cell phone was in the middle of the kitchen table. When she picked it up, she immediately saw that there was a new message. It must have arrived after she’d gone to bed.
It was from Jonas.
Wilma’s doing pretty well. Thanks for asking. Will be in touch. J
She stood there and read the words again. He would be in touch. What did that mean?
It was weird. They were living fewer than fifty yards apart, but he couldn’t come over and talk to her. How hard could it be?
Angrily she deleted the message.
CHAPTER 65
The sky outside Thomas’s office was overcast. It was almost nine o’clock on Tuesday morning, and Felicia Grimstad would be here soon. Thomas wasn’t looking forward to meeting her arrogant father again.
He picked up his notebook and looked back at the meeting with Landin. They ought to speak to the rest of the drug squad team who’d been on Sandhamn; Landin had said they’d be in on Thursday morning. There was no shortage of things to tackle before then.
The phone rang; it was an internal call.
“Andreasson.”
“It’s Nilsson,” said the forensic technician.
“Good morning. How’s it going?”
“We’ve sorted out everything that’s going to be sent to the National Forensic Laboratory, but I need to check on something first. We found a scrap of yellow fabric no more than an inch long next to the body.”
“And?”
“I’m thinking it might have come from a high-visibility vest worn by one of the officers patrolling the island over the weekend.”
Thomas put down his coffee cup. “Go on.”
“One of the uniformed guys probably got caught on a branch, but it means collecting all their vests so we can exclude the scrap of material from the analysis. I don’t want to send something away unnecessarily, as I’m sure you understand.”
“I’ll get Harry Anjou on it right away. He was there, after all.”
“Sounds good,” Nilsson said. “I’ll be in touch.”
Thomas went along to Anjou’s office. He was sitting at the computer with an expression of deep concentration on his face as he clicked through something. A cup half full of coffee stood next to several empty cups and a tin of snuff.
“Can you help me with something?” Thomas said.
“Sure,” Anjou replied, looking up.
“Staffan Nilsson wants all the high-visibility vests worn by the team on Sandhamn over Midsummer. Can you take care of that, please?”
“OK. But can I ask why?”
“He’s discovered a piece of yellow fabric at the crime scene, and it needs to be excluded from the evidence. It’s probably from the vest of one of our colleagues who was there after Victor was found.”
“No problem,” Anjou said. As he moved to get up, he knocked the tin of snuff off the desk, and the dark-brown powder scattered all over the floor.
“Shit.”
Thomas tried not to smile. He was saved by the sound of the phone ringing in his office.
“I have to go.”
“I’ll sort out the vests,” Anjou said as he tried to scrape together the worst of the mess with his shoe.
The call was to tell Thomas that Felicia Grimstad had arrived, and he peeked into Margit’s office.
“Ready? Felicia’s in reception. Karin’s bringing her up.”
When Thomas and Margit went into the interview room a few minutes later, Felicia was slumped on a chair. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a short skirt with a cotton top neatly tucked into the waistband.
This time, only her mother was with her, thank God. Jeanette Grimstad greeted both officers with a pleasant smile, while Felicia looked up at them, hollow-eyed.
“Have you found the person who murdered Victor?” she said quietly.
“We still have a long way to go in the investigation,” Thomas said. “That’s why we’ve asked you to come in.”
“How are you feeling?” Margit asked.
“Not so good.”
Jeanette stroked her daughter’s cheek with the back of her hand. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said.
“Did you manage to get some sleep?” Thomas said.
Felicia shook her head. “Not really. I can’t stop thinking about Victor.”
Thomas wanted to adopt a gentle approach; there was no point in upsetting the girl from the get-go.
“We wanted to talk to you a little bit more about what happened on the last evening you spent with Victor,” he began.
“Before he died.”
“Exactly.”
Felicia clasped her hands on her lap.
“We’re wondering if there were other people on the shore who might have seen something,” Margit said. “Can you think back? Were there other young people nearby, or maybe campers? Every detail is important; we’re finding it very difficult to track down witnesses.”
Jeanette put her arm around Felicia’s shoulders. “Try to remember, honey.”
Thomas was grateful for her calmness. The situation wouldn’t have been improved by Jochen Grimstad’s touchiness.
“You’ve already asked me about this,” Felicia said. “I don’t know any more than I already told you!”
“Let’s take it one step at a time,” Margit said. “When you reached Skärkarlshamn, was there anyone else around?”
Felicia chewed her lower lip and thought for a few seconds. “I think there was a group sitting near the shore.”
“Can you be a little more specific?”
“By a big house with a long fence. Yellow. Not close to where we were.”
So on the northern section of the shore, Thomas thought, a few hundred yards away. About as far as it was possible to get from the scene of the crime. He’d been hoping for a different answer.
“But you didn’t recognize them?” Margit went on.
“No.”
“Would you recognize them if you saw them again?”
“I don’t think so.”
Margit tried a different angle. “You told us that you and Victor stopped and sat down by a big tree—the spot where your boyfriend’s body was later found.”
Felicia gave a start when she heard the word body. She swallowed and said in a small voice, “Yes.”
“How long do you think the two of you were there before you fell asleep?”
“I don’t know. A while.”
“Don’t you have any idea at all of the time?” Thomas asked. “This is really important.”
“No.”
“Was it half an hour? An hour? Longer?”
“I don’t know.”
How long is a piece of string? Thomas thought. She hadn’t a clue how long she’d been there; the fact that she’d been both drunk and upset didn’t help.
The forensic pathologist had given them a range of several hours; he couldn’t pin down the time of death any more closely, so Thomas really needed
to narrow that time frame. He smiled reassuringly at Jeanette, who looked as if she was about to intervene.
“This isn’t easy, but there are certain questions we have to ask Felicia.”
“I understand.” Jeanette turned to her daughter. “The police are just doing their job, sweetheart. I’m sure we’ll soon be done.”
The question about drugs was on the tip of Thomas’s tongue; he suspected that Jeanette would be distraught, but he couldn’t put it off.
“We need to talk about another matter. We know you drank alcohol on the boat—vodka mixed with soft drinks, if I remember correctly.” He kept his eyes on Felicia’s face. “We have reason to believe there were drugs involved as well.”
Jeanette’s eyes opened wide, and Felicia’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Drugs?” Jeanette whispered.
Margit’s gaze was also fixed on Felicia. “The autopsy shows that Victor had used cocaine the night he died. Did you know about that?”
Felicia’s chin and lower lip trembled.
“Did you know about that?” Margit repeated.
“Yes.”
The answer was almost inaudible.
“Could you repeat your answer for the tape?”
“Yes,” Felicia said, lowering her head.
“You need to tell us the truth now,” Margit went on. “Have you taken cocaine, too? On Midsummer’s Day, for example?”
“Yes,” Felicia whispered without looking at her mother.
Jeanette inhaled so sharply that she started coughing. She covered her mouth with her hand and turned away; it sounded as if the cough turned into a sob, but Thomas couldn’t be sure. He waited a few seconds.
“How long had you and Victor been using?” he said to Felicia. “And what made you start?”
FELICIA
It was the first party after the Christmas break; the temperature had dropped to fourteen degrees, and there was snow on the ground. The walk from the bus stop was bitterly cold; Felicia’s feet were freezing despite her Ugg boots.
The party was at Filip’s house, and Tobbe and Ebba were there, too. It was almost eleven, and the music was pulsating through the whole place. People were dancing in both the living room and the dining room, where the large table had been pushed back against the wall.
They dropped their outdoor clothes in the hallway. Felicia wanted to go straight in and join the party, but Victor was restless. He seemed to be searching for something and hardly bothered to answer when Felicia tried to talk to him.
He was still tan from the family’s Christmas vacation in Mexico; he looked good.
“I said, shall we go dance?” Felicia nudged Victor and adjusted her black dress. It had been a Christmas present, and it was really expensive, but Victor hadn’t even mentioned it.
“Not now,” he said, scanning the room.
“Why not?”
“There’s something I have to do first.”
“Like what?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be there in a bit.”
Felicia pouted, making sure he noticed. “But I want to be with you.” She licked her glossy pink lips, trying to capture his interest.
There was a sudden glint in Victor’s eye, but she didn’t know why. Then he shrugged and pushed back his hair, which had grown and now covered the nape of his neck. Felicia liked the new length; it was cool when he tucked it behind his ears.
“OK, then,” he said. “You can come with me.”
To the right of the living room was a smaller room that was used as a library. The walls were lined with bookshelves, and there were two green leather armchairs over by the window.
Victor led the way. He closed the door behind Felicia, then went and sat in one of the armchairs. He looked at her, as if he were sizing her up. Without saying a word, he took a small mirror and a thin envelope out of his back pocket.
Felicia had suspected what he and Tobbe were up to when they disappeared from time to time at parties. They always came back with a slightly glassy look in their eyes and a new spring in their step. Suddenly they were in a great mood. However, Victor had never openly revealed what he was doing.
He carefully poured white powder onto the mirror and shaped it into a narrow line. Then he leaned over and inhaled it.
His body responded quickly. He pulled Felicia into his lap and gave her a passionate kiss. When he let her go, he pointed to the envelope on the table.
“There’s enough for you, too. Want some?”
Felicia was torn between curiosity and her parents’ warnings echoing somewhere in the back of her mind.
Victor squeezed her breasts through the thin dress and kissed her again. Then he gave her a supercilious smile, tapped her nostril, and pushed the mirror toward her. “Aren’t you going to give it a try?”
Felicia hesitated, shifting her body weight on his lap.
“Come on,” Victor said. “You were the one who said you wanted to be with me.”
“OK, then,” she muttered.
With practiced movements, he prepared a new line.
“Are you sure it’s not dangerous?” Felicia had thought it was exciting, but now she wasn’t so sure.
“Don’t be dumb. I’m fine, aren’t I? In fact, I feel fucking fantastic!”
He pulled her close and kissed her hungrily once more. Felicia melted. She stopped quibbling and lowered her head. She pressed one finger against her right nostril, just as Victor had done, and inhaled through the other one. The tip of her nose was so close to the mirror that it was almost touching the glass.
A strange sensation spread throughout her body. Everything was fine now. It wasn’t horrible at all; she couldn’t understand why she’d hesitated.
Victor was watching her expectantly, and she sparkled at him.
CHAPTER 66
Felicia avoided looking at her mother, who was sitting with her hands tightly clasped in her lap.
“How often did you use cocaine?” Margit asked after a brief silence. Thomas saw that the question came as a shock to Jeanette Grimstad. Margit liked to get straight to the point.
“I mean . . . it varied. Mostly at parties.” Felicia hung her head. “Victor and Tobbe did it a lot more often than me, I swear.”
“And Ebba?” Thomas said.
“She didn’t want to. She and Tobbe argued about it before they broke up.”
“How could you afford it?” Margit wanted to know. “It’s not cheap—seven or eight hundred kronor a gram, sometimes more.”
Felicia’s head dropped even farther, and her hair fell forward, hiding her eyes.
“Victor used the money his parents gave him for food. They were away so often, and he told them he bought pizza for the whole gang. I think Tobbe managed to get extra money out of his dad, too, somehow.”
“Was that really enough?”
Felicia hesitated. “Victor sometimes took money . . . from his parents.”
“You mean he stole from them?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Have you done the same thing?” Thomas asked.
Felicia shifted on her chair, as if she were trying to move away from her mother.
“Yes . . . a few times.”
Jeanette pressed her lips into a thin line as she looked at her daughter in horror. “You took money from my wallet?”
Felicia didn’t even try to defend herself. A tear ran down her cheek and dripped off her chin.
“Did you use anything else?” Thomas asked after a moment. “Apart from alcohol.”
Silence.
“What was it?” Margit said. Her tone was warmer now; she could see that Felicia was at a breaking point.
“I don’t really know.” The words were almost inaudible. “Victor stole pills from his mom a few times, and sometimes he bought stuff from the drugstore, but I’m not sure what it was.”
Margit picked up the jug of water and poured Felicia a glass. The girl was swaying in her chair. “Drink this,” Margit said. “You don’t look too good.�
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Thomas waited while Felicia drank, and when she put down the glass, he said, “Who did Victor buy the cocaine from?”
“At first it was someone Christoffer worked with. Tobbe knew him, and I think Victor wanted to be sure he wasn’t going to get ripped off. But then he found his own supplier.”
“Were you ever with him when he was buying?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“I used to wait a little way off.”
“But you know how it worked,” Thomas said. “What was the routine?”
Felicia blinked rapidly several times. “Victor sent a text, then this guy would show up in a black car after school. Victor handed the money through the window, and the guy gave him what he’d ordered. It only took a few seconds.”
“Did Christoffer know what was going on?”
Felicia held up both hands. “I don’t think he had any idea. Honestly. He’s not into that kind of thing; he doesn’t like drugs.”
“Do you know what Victor bought for Midsummer?” Margit said.
“No, I wasn’t with him that time, and I didn’t ask.”
“How come?”
Felicia started scratching a scab on her elbow. “Things hadn’t been too good between us. Plus he was mad because Ebba was coming over to Sandhamn, but I wouldn’t have been able to go otherwise.” Blood began to seep out as she broke the skin. “I thought he’d be . . . nice to me again. When we got to Sandhamn. I thought everything would be OK.”
Margit leaned forward. “Why were the two of you having problems?”
“He was partying so much. Sometimes he went too far . . . we were fighting a lot.”
Jeanette Grimstad, who appeared to have fallen into a trance, suddenly snapped at her daughter. “Why didn’t you just say no? How could you let Victor persuade you to start taking drugs? We’ve talked about this, for God’s sake! You promised me you’d never do anything like that!”
Felicia’s face crumpled. “I loved him,” she sobbed. “I was scared he’d dump me.”
“You mean he would have broken up with you if you didn’t take drugs with him?” Margit said, frowning.
Felicia nodded, her eyes filled with despair. “He’d get mad for no reason. Sometimes he was the sweetest guy in the world, but sometimes he was just horrible. He used to say nasty things—like, he’d call me dumb.”
