by Koppel, Hans
‘Thank you,’ he said, and took them.
‘Do you know any more?’ Anna asked.
‘Nothing substantial. We’ll do a search with the dogs based on the last known positions of her mobile phone.’
‘Väla?’
‘I’ll contact you as soon as I know anything new.’
Anna turned towards the other policemen in the room, her face crumpled. She had a thousand questions, but didn’t know how to formulate a single one.
‘I’ll drive you home now,’ Trude said, taking her by the arm.
Anna twisted herself free.
‘Is it him?’ she cried. ‘Tell me if it’s him. I thought it was over. When the bus went past the other day and I saw him loading removal boxes into his car. I was so glad, thought it was over. That you had frightened him off.’
She was shaking. Her face was trembling and her mouth twisted.
Trude put an arm round her.
‘Come on, we’re leaving,’ she said. ‘I’ll take you home and stay with you until Magnus gets back.’
Anna nodded gratefully and let herself be led out.
Börje attached the skip to the hook and took out the remote control. He lifted it carefully so the contents wouldn’t fall out. Kent stood beside him and watched.
‘So,’ he said, ‘straight to the new incinerator in Filborna then?’
‘Naah, it’s not ready yet.’
‘So on to the tip then?’
‘Yep.’
The skip was manoeuvred carefully over towards the back of the flatbed truck. The angle revealed what was inside.
‘When will we get a new one?’ Kent asked.
‘As soon as I’ve emptied this one. I’ll be back within the hour.’
‘Good.’
Börje looked at the waste.
‘You sure it’s all good for incineration? Those plastic bags, what’s in them?’
‘Haven’t a fucking clue. Asbestos and plutonium, probably. If it was only us who threw things in, then I wouldn’t have to ring you all the time. Why? Does it really make any difference?’
Börje shrugged.
‘Not really, but obviously it’s not so good if it’s impregnated wood or some other evil.’
‘What do you want me to do? I haven’t got time to go through all the crap that people dump in there. I’d put up a fence but there’s no room.’
‘No, no,’ Börje placated him. ‘Just saying.’
The skip lifted from the ground and lurched heavily. One of the refuse bags rolled down. Kent stepped forwards.
‘Forget it,’ Börje said. ‘It’s not a problem.’
‘Might as well check.’
Kent took a knife out of the pocket on the side of his trousers, leaned over the side and made a slash. Something white, he couldn’t make out what. He made another cut at a ninety-degree angle to the first. Still couldn’t see. He put his fingers in and tugged at the plastic. Then he pulled out an arm, which he dropped as if it had burned him. He backed away instinctively, looked at his hands and swallowed hard.
‘I think I have to wash my hands,’ he said, and threw up on the asphalt.
49
Erik had parked out of sight of the school. To be on the safe side, he’d swung by the shop and bought an evening paper so that he looked preoccupied in the event that anyone reacted. He also kept his seatbelt on like a responsible man who was just about to turn the ignition key again and continue on his way.
He looked at the clock and then checked the photograph he’d taken of Hedda’s timetable, which was attached to the family fridge with a magnet. Only a few minutes to go.
Then, as if by the touch of a wand, the place erupted with life and movement. Children on bikes and skateboards, bags and noise, hands in the air and shoving and laughter and the odd lonely child who walked with their head down.
He scanned them over the top of his newspaper, like some second-rate detective. He spotted her with a friend. Neither of them was a show-stopper, but they had each other. He waited until they were a suitable distance from the others, to avoid the risk of friends gathering round, and then drove up alongside the girls. He wound down the window on the passenger side and leaned over the seat.
‘Hedda,’ he said, appropriately strained. ‘Do you recognise me? I came to test-drive your father’s car and we took you to the stables.’
She lit up, almost proud of the attention in front of her friend.
‘Your mother called. She’s a bit caught up. I’m not sure how much she’s said to you about your gran.’
‘They don’t know where she is,’ Hedda replied.
‘Exactly. Well, something has obviously come up and your mother called and asked me to collect you.’
He opened the door. Hedda hesitated.
‘I’ll take you to her,’ Erik said.
‘But I…’
‘It’s about your gran.’
Hedda looked at her friend.
‘See you later then, okay?’
She got into the car.
‘Put the seatbelt on, please. I don’t want us to have any accidents.’
Hedda pulled on the seatbelt, happy and proud of the attention, but also the fact that she could sit in the front without having to ask.
‘Has she come home?’
‘Who?’
‘Granny. Is she back in her flat?’
‘I don’t know. Have you got your mobile with you?’
‘My mobile?’
‘I haven’t got your mother’s number saved in mine.’
‘I know it off by heart,’ Hedda told him with pride. ‘Zero, seven, three…’
‘I don’t have any battery left,’ Erik interrupted, and held out his hand to Hedda. ‘Can I borrow yours?’
She gave him her mobile.
‘Thank you,’ he said, and put it in his inner pocket.
Hedda looked at him.
‘Aren’t you going to phone?’
‘Not while I’m driving. It’s dangerous. And you don’t want us to crash, do you?’
‘No.’
Erik smiled and turned left on to the main road.
‘Are we not going to Granny’s?’
‘We’re going to Kullaberg. Have you been to Kullaberg?’
‘Loads of times,’ Hedda said, world-weary. ‘Is Granny there?’
50
The police sniffer dog, Nalle, a sociable Labrador, picked up the scent of body fluids and a body in both the kitchen and bathroom.
‘Are you absolutely certain?’ Karlsson asked. ‘The dog can smell it despite all the chlorine and other things?’
‘The dog doesn’t lie,’ the handler said. ‘Nalle is the best dog I’ve ever worked with.’
Karlsson sighed.
‘Well, well, we’d better call forensics then.’
‘And another dog,’ the handler said. ‘For the court.’
‘Two independent dogs,’ Karlsson said, and turned to Gerda, who was standing out in the hall counting unmade removal boxes.
‘Six,’ he said. ‘I think they’re sold in packs of ten.’
‘So four are missing?’ Karlsson calculated. ‘Do you think he carried her out in parts?’
Gerda shrugged. Karlsson went over to the window, folded his hands behind his back and looked out over the sound.
‘Trouble and strife,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with people. Oi, oi, oi.’
His phone rang. He fished it out of his inner pocket and answered.
‘Karlsson.’
He listened and mumbled short, single-syllable words to confirm that he was taking in all the information he was being given.
‘We’re on our way,’ he said, and finished the conversation.
He turned back to Gerda.
‘They’ve found her.’
‘You’d thought of knocking on his door?’ Anna asked. ‘At Mölle, had you really?’
She was sitting at her own kitchen table. Trude had ushered her to a chair and was making some tea.
‘Yes,’ she said, as she put two mugs down on the table.
‘But you’re married.’
Anna stopped herself and sighed.
‘But then, so am I.’
‘You can’t just sit in your chamber waiting,’ Trude said. ‘That way nothing ever happens. You weren’t to know he was mad. You don’t usually notice that sort of thing until it’s too late.’
‘It was the first time. And the last. Never again.’
‘I wouldn’t be so categorical. Imagine if he’d been normal. Judging by what I heard from the room, you were certainly enjoying yourselves. At that point, I mean.’
‘Your husband,’ Anna ventured. ‘What does he say?’
‘What he doesn’t know won’t harm him.’
‘But that’s terrible.’
‘A terrible burden, you mean?’ Trude said, and thought about it. ‘Yes, sometimes. The rest of the time it’s absolutely perfect. If it wasn’t for my little adventures, I’d have left him years ago. I need to feel alive, can’t bear all this sitting-on-the-sofa-watching-telly bliss. It’s not enough.’
‘But you want that as well?’ Anna asked.
‘Yes, of course. I love him more than anything else in the world. But it’s not about that.’
‘The attention?’ Anna said.
‘The sex,’ Trude replied, and took a sip of tea. ‘Sex is my hobby, all my dreams are erotic. As soon anyone says, “If you only had one month to live”, I visualise myself surrounded by gigolos there to satisfy my every desire. Or I’m just afraid of getting old. I don’t know, I’m not a psychologist.’
She looked at Anna.
‘Attention,’ she said, and snorted. ‘I get enough of that from my husband. Why, do you think I’m bad?’
Anna shook her head.
‘I’ve never thought that. I think you’re fantastic. Perhaps a bit too beautiful. You frighten off men and have to make do with the dregs.’
‘That’s fine,’ Trude said. ‘That often makes them more skilled and grateful.’
‘Do you know what my mother says?’ Anna continued. ‘She says that you should watch out for moralists as they’re usually immoral.’
She laughed briefly and then looked around, distraught. She wanted to think about something else, not venture into deep waters, but fear is like a tide, it closes in relentlessly with every wave. She looked at the kitchen clock.
‘I have to ring Hedda to see if she wants to eat here.’
‘Has something happened to Granny?’ Hedda asked.
Erik took his eyes off the road.
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ he said. ‘Why would something have happened to her?’
‘Her mobile phone was in a rubbish bin at Väla and no one knows where she is.’
‘Strange,’ Erik agreed.
Hedda nodded.
‘Can I have my phone back?’
‘But I’m going to ring your mum.’
‘You can borrow it again later.’
‘You can’t phone now,’ Erik said.
‘Why not?’
‘Because we’re talking. Don’t you know it’s rude to talk on the phone when you’re with someone else? That would mean you don’t like my company.’
He sent her a friendly, accusing look.
‘Don’t you like my company?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I don’t think you do. Because if you did like my company, you wouldn’t need to phone anyone. Who do you want to talk to so much?’
‘Mum.’
‘But we’re going to meet your mum. I’m going to call her and she’ll come to meet us.’
He nodded to himself and only after a while did he notice that Hedda’s eyes were shiny.
‘Do you want an ice cream?’
‘It’s cold.’
‘You can still eat ice cream.’
‘I want to see my mum.’
‘I can turn in here and buy an ice cream. Would you like that?’
Hedda’s phone started to ring. Erik took it out of his inner pocket and looked at the screen.
‘I better take this,’ he said. ‘It’s for me.’
He pressed to answer.
‘Hello,’ he said, smooth and relaxed.
There was silence at the other end.
Anna looked the screen. Had she dialled the wrong number? No.
‘Hello?’ she repeated, and felt her pulse racing.
‘Hello, Anna.’
‘Who am I talking to?’
She was clutching at straws.
‘You know.’
‘Where is Hedda? I want to talk to Hedda!’
‘We’re on an outing. I’m going to show her the cliffs we went to. You remember?’
Anna couldn’t make a sound. Her voice box was simply not functioning.
‘Hello?’ Erik said.
‘Listen to me,’ Anna screamed. ‘No matter what’s happened, despite everything. Not Hedda, do you hear me? Not Hedda, for God’s sake, not my daughter.’
She had got up from the chair and was leaning over the table in an awkward position. Trude looked at her aghast, her eyes open wide.
‘You don’t need to worry, we’re having a nice time.’
‘Erik, let me talk to my daughter. Give her the phone!’
‘Say hello to Mummy.’
Anna heard her daughter’s voice faintly in the background.
‘I want to talk to her.’
‘I know, come here,’ Erik said. ‘No blue lights. If I see any flashing lights I’ll grab her hand and jump.’
He hung up.
‘Hello? Erik!’ Anna shouted.
She looked at the phone, pressed REDIAL.
‘Yes?’ he answered, unperturbed.
‘Erik, listen to me.’
‘No, you listen to me. Number one: don’t call me, I’ll call you. Keep the line open. If it’s engaged, I’ll take that to mean blue flashing lights. Now, do we understand each other?’
He hung up again.
‘He’s on his way to Kullaberg, he’s going to throw her off the cliffs.’
Anna was already out in the hall and Trude rushed after her.
The tyres screeched as they drove off.
‘Your phone,’ Anna said, having spotted it in the tray by the gearstick.
Karlsson and Gerda were more or less clear about the chain of events now. Everything fitted. The removal boxes that had been bought at Ikea, where Kathrine’s phone had later been found. The strong smell in the flat of the chlorine that Erik had used in a futile attempt to clean up. The chips in the enamel on the bath.
People had started to gather on the pavement and ask questions and the traffic was snarling up due to the double-parked police cars.
‘How do you tell people about something like this?’ Karlsson wondered, hunching up in the increasing wind.
‘You tell it like it is,’ Gerda said. ‘Anything else would just be worse.’
‘Yes,’ Karlsson gave in. ‘I guess you’re right.’
They were walking towards the car. Dusk was already starting to fall.
‘Is the flat guarded?’
‘Yes.’
‘What have forensics found?’
‘They’ve secured blood, hair and splinters of bone from the wastepipe. And something from the kitchen, not sure what it is. Hopefully just spillage from cooking.’
‘We might as well go to her house.’
He rang directory enquiries and was given her home address. They went out to Laröd and rang on the bell. When no one opened, Karlsson got out his mobile phone. He took a deep breath to muster himself before dialling. Anna answered on the first ring.
‘Yes?’
Karlsson regretted not having prepared what he was going to say.
‘Um, hello,’ he started, tentatively. ‘It’s Karlsson. From the police…’
‘I can’t talk.’
She hung up.
Strange. And given the circumstances, very strange indeed. What could be more importan
t? Karlsson looked at his phone. Should he try again?
‘She hung up,’ he said to Gerda.
‘What? Were you disconnected?’
‘No, she hung up. She said she couldn’t talk and hung up.’
‘Strange.’
‘Should I try again?’
‘Yes.’
Just then, the screen on Karlsson’s phone lit up with a number that was unknown to him. He pressed ANSWER.
‘It’s me,’ Anna said, in a strained voice. ‘I can’t block my line.’
‘Calm down. I can hardly make out what you’re saying.’
‘He’s taken Hedda.’
‘Who?’
‘My daughter. Erik has got my daughter. He’s on his way to Kullaberg. He said no blue lights. If he hears any sirens he’ll throw her off the cliffs. Or if my phone’s engaged.’
‘Where are you?’
‘On my way there. My colleague’s driving. We’re nearly at Höganäs. If he tries to call and my phone’s engaged he’ll assume I’m talking to the police.’
‘Do you know where on Kullaberg?’
‘He showed me some cliffs up by the lighthouse. We went there when we first met. It’s right out on the edge, with only the sea below. No sirens. If he sees the police he’ll throw her over the edge. Or if he hears a helicopter. He’ll do it, I know he’ll do it.’
‘Wait, stay on the line.’
Karlsson ran to the car.
‘Kullaberg,’ he said, ‘Now, like a bat out of hell.’
He put the phone to his ear again, pulled on the seatbelt with his free hand. He was forced to tense his body when Gerda put his foot to the floor and turned on the sirens.
‘No noise,’ Anna screamed.
‘We’ll turn it off in good time. We’re in Laröd, in a civilian car. Take it easy. We’ll soon be there. Talk to him. I have to go, we need to get people.’
‘No police cars. Promise me, no blue lights.’
51
‘Isn’t it beautiful?’
Erik had stopped by the viewing point. Below them, Mölle lay sleeping under a damp, bluish-grey winter blanket, waiting for the short, intense flowering of summer. The wind was blowing in from the sea and dark was falling fast.
