‘He seems to have kept it in his briefcase.’
‘Yes. That’s right.’
‘Did he keep the briefcase locked?’ Martin reached for a sandwich.
‘That was a bone of contention with the rest of the family. He usually neglected to lock it. The briefcase has a combination lock, but he seldom bothered to use it. We’d scold him about it, partly because of the gun and partly because of the confidential documents that he kept inside. There are people who’d do anything to get hold of that sort of information. But he was oddly careless about it.’
‘And was this something that was generally known within the family?’
‘Yes.’ Harald shook his head in disbelief. ‘But I can’t imagine … I mean, who would … who in the family would even think about doing something like that? Matte, who never hurt a fly.’ His eyes filled with tears.
Martin hated asking the question, but he had to do it.
‘It looked as if he did a good job of attacking Bernard earlier today.’
‘He was provoked,’ snapped Harald, but the anger vanished as quickly as it had flared up, and he added in a subdued voice, ‘I’ve always had the feeling that there was some old quarrel between Bernard and Matte, and I … I should have tried to find out what it was.’ He abruptly sat up straight. ‘Do you think that Bernard is the one who …?’ His face suddenly regained some colour.
Martin held up his hands. ‘I’m not making any assumptions at the moment. And we don’t want to make the situation worse with false accusations.’ He gave Harald a stern look.
‘I hear what you’re saying,’ he said with a nod. ‘I’ll keep my thoughts to myself. But if there’s the slightest evidence.’ His eyes narrowed.
‘Evidence.’ The word stirred something in Martin’s memory. There was some detail that he’d missed. Something he should have done, or seen, but right now it escaped him. He focused on the word again: evidence. That was it! He needed to get back to Matte’s room.
‘Excuse me, Harald, but there’s something I need to check. Thank you for your help.’ He got to his feet and was halfway out the door when he stopped and said kindly, ‘Try to eat.’ Then he dashed into the hall and up the stairs.
Vivi knocked timidly on Miranda’s door. Her daughter’s room was across from the one that she shared with Gustav, and she’d heard the door open and close not long ago. She’d been lying on the bed, on top of the covers. Staring at the ceiling and letting her thoughts wander. Chaotic, dark thoughts. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Matte’s dead body. The blood in the middle of his chest and on the floor. Britten’s expression as she rocked her son’s head on her lap. Finally Vivi refused to close her eyes again. The images were less intense and less frightening if she focused her gaze on the ceiling. Her own guilt sat like a weight on her chest. Her fear had safeguarded the secrets, but now they were fighting to resurface. She wasn’t sure why. She’d never felt any longing to clear her conscience; she’d decided long ago to take the secrets with her to the grave. But now everything was different. Maybe because she’d been confronted by death at close range. Maybe it was the look on Britten’s face. Nothing could be worse than that. Compared with the pain of losing a child, everything else seemed so petty. Including the secrets. ‘Trolls crack in the sun,’ as her mother had always said. For the first time it felt as if the sun was shining on her secret, making it seem small and insignificant. She got up. An unaccustomed feeling of decisiveness came over her. She had never made an unpleasant decision in her whole life; she had always tried to keep the path ahead wide open and smooth. Now she was about to throw fuel on a fire that no one even knew about.
She put on her cardigan and stuck her feet in her slippers, which she had placed neatly next to the bed. For a moment she hesitated before opening the door, but once she stepped out into the hall, she knew there was no turning back. It was time.
In a few short steps she reached the door to Miranda’s room and tapped lightly on the wood. At first she heard a rustling, and then her daughter’s voice saying, ‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me.’
The sound of footsteps, and then Miranda opened the door with a concerned look of enquiry. ‘Has something else happened?’
Vivi shook her head. ‘No, nothing.’ Then she hesitated before asking, ‘Can I come for a minute?’
‘Of course. Come on in.’ Miranda moved aside to let her mother into the room. ‘I was only lying on the bed reading. I needed to get away from … from everything.’ A shadow flitted across her face, and Vivi wondered if she was doing the right thing. But her doubt vanished as swiftly as it had appeared. It was time to clear the air, empty out the wardrobes, and let the old skeletons see the light of day.
‘There’s something I have to tell you.’ Vivi sat down on her daughter’s bed.
‘What is it?’ said Miranda, sitting down next to her mother.
‘I …’ The words refused to come out, and Vivi raised her hand to her throat, as she usually did when nervous. All of a sudden she wasn’t sure whether to continue. Or how she should formulate what she wanted to say. She cleared her throat.
‘I did something very stupid. Many years ago. But I’ve always regretted it,’ she hastened to add. Miranda stared at her in surprise. She had absolutely no idea what her mother was talking about.
‘I had … I had a brief affair. With another man. And I ended up pregnant.’
Miranda’s eyes opened wide. She raised her hands, like a child trying to fend off something upsetting, something she did not want to hear. But then she let her hands drop to her lap, staring mutely at Vivi.
‘Your father knows nothing about it. He did notice that you arrived a little early, but men … well, they’re good at fooling themselves. Sometimes I wonder whether he might have guessed, but I don’t think so.’ She sniffed.
‘So you’re saying that I’m …’ Miranda swallowed hard, her eyes still fixed on her mother. Vivi could almost see her brain working to take in this information.
‘Yes, I’m saying that Gustav isn’t your biological father.’ Vivi was amazed how easy it was to say those words that had been concealed in her heart for so many years. She had guarded them with such vigilance, preventing them from seeping out, preventing herself from even thinking what they signified. And here she was, telling her story in a calm and matter-of-fact voice. She felt a great sense of relief spreading through her body. Only now did she realize how heavy a burden it had been.
‘Then who?’ Miranda paused. Her hands were moving restlessly like little birds on her lap.
‘Harald.’ Vivi plucked at a nub on the coverlet. ‘Harald is your father. We had a very brief affair. I broke it off when I realized that I was pregnant.’
Miranda gasped loudly.
Vivi went on: ‘I’m the only person who knows about this, although it’s possible that Harald guessed the truth. But I want you to know that Matte was your brother, not your cousin.’ She felt almost dizzy with relief as she heard the words come bubbling out. It was as if everything that had happened this weekend – the tragedy of Ruben’s death and Matte’s death – had set her free. What was there left to fear now that the heavens had already come tumbling down?
‘Matte … was … my … brother?’ Miranda stammered. ‘I can’t believe—’ She shook her head but didn’t take her eyes off her mother. ‘But how … when?’
‘We can talk more about this later,’ said Vivi, patting her daughter’s hand. ‘But first you need to think about all this in peace and quiet. Then you can ask me questions. At least now you know.’
As Vivi stood up to leave, she and Miranda both heard someone running up the stairs. Vivi opened the door to the corridor and almost collided with Martin as he raced past.
‘Sorry,’ she said, but he didn’t seem to notice. She saw him stop when he reached Matte’s room, and she wondered why he was in such a hurry.
Martin was cursing himself. How could he have been so damned sloppy? He had found evidence, possibly the only
piece of evidence, and he’d left it in the room. What if the murderer had already come back to get it?
He swore as he yanked open the door to Matte’s room. Then he paused to calm down as he caught sight of the pool of blood on the floor. It would only make matters worse if he rushed into the room and began stomping around, disturbing any prints. Instead he moved cautiously towards the bedside table. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he exhaled with relief when he saw what was lying on the table. The mobile phone. The second phone. Not Matte’s, but someone else’s.
He opened the cover. The phone was switched off, and he would need the password to turn it on and find out whose it was. Shit! He flipped the phone closed but took it with him as he left the room. Slowly he made his way down the stairs and then paused for a few seconds outside the door to the library. Then he pushed it open and went in. As soon as he entered the room he sensed the grief, almost like a physical barrier. For a moment he considered turning and leaving so as not to disturb anyone. Yet he knew that he had no choice.
He cleared his throat to draw attention.
‘Is there really no way for us to leave this place?’ Britten’s voice sounded so feeble and frail. It barely reached Martin, standing two metres away, before fading completely.
He shook his head. ‘Not yet. But Börje and Kerstin went down to the dock, and as soon as the storm lets up a bit, the icebreaker will be out.’
‘Can we take Matte with us when we go?’ Britten drew the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Martin saw that she was so cold that her teeth were chattering, even though the fire in the grate had warmed up the room.
‘We’ll see to it that he comes with us,’ said Martin, hoping that it wasn’t a mistake to make that promise. But he’d just have to bear the consequences of that decision later on. He didn’t have the heart to refuse her request when she looked as if she might fall apart at any moment.
‘I have a question for all of you. Does anyone recognize this?’ He held up the mobile phone.
‘That’s mine,’ said Bernard at once. ‘Where did you find it?’
‘In Matte’s room.’
Bernard’s face was expressionless. ‘How did it end up there?’
‘Exactly what I want to ask you,’ said Martin, fixing his eyes on Bernard.
‘I have no idea. The last time I saw it, it was in my room. I didn’t feel the need to carry it around, since there’s no reception.’
‘And when was that?’
‘This morning, when I woke up,’ replied Bernard. ‘I was using it as an alarm clock.’
‘Have you been in Matte’s room today?’ Martin was aware he sounded brusque, but he was so stressed that he wasn’t able to hold his emotions in check any more.
‘No, I’ve never been inside Matte’s room! Are you accusing me of something?’ Bernard took a step forward, but his father placed a hand on his arm to restrain him.
‘Martin is only doing his job, Bernard. Take it easy. We all want to get to the bottom of this.’ Gustav glanced at Britten, who was staring straight ahead as if she hadn’t registered what was being said.
Bernard shook off his father’s hand but repeated in a lower voice, ‘I haven’t been inside Matte’s room. Not once.’
‘So you have no idea how your mobile got there?’
‘Someone must have been in my room and taken it,’ said Bernard with a frown. ‘That’s what must have happened. Someone wanted to shift suspicion onto me. The killer must have gone in and taken my phone and then put it in Matte’s room.’
‘Shall we go upstairs and have a look at your room?’
‘Of course.’ Bernard threw out his hands and then headed for the door. ‘I have nothing to hide. Look around as much as you like.’ His tone was scornful, and Martin had to resist an urge to kick the man as he walked past.
He followed Bernard up the stairs. At the top they met Vivi and Miranda, who were on their way down. Both women wore a strange expression, but Martin had no time to wonder why.
‘What are the two of you doing?’ Vivi asked Bernard.
‘Nothing. We’re just going to check on something,’ said Bernard evasively as he continued on to his room. Martin was right on his heels.
‘See, it’s not locked. Anybody could go in.’ Bernard opened the door and motioned for Martin to enter.
The room was immaculate. Three white shirts, meticulously pressed, hung in the open wardrobe. A pair of shiny black shoes, identical to the ones Bernard was wearing, had been placed underneath the shirts. No suitcase was visible, so it must have been stowed away. A book lay on the bedside table. The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Martin was just thinking to himself that he wouldn’t have taken Bernard for a reader, when Bernard stopped short and said:
‘That’s grandfather’s book, I can’t imagine what it’s doing here. I only read business publications. Grandpa was the one who was so keen on Sherlock Holmes. Those stories seem incredibly lame, in my opinion.’
Martin raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you notice anything else odd? Is anything else missing?’
Bernard looked around but then shook his head. ‘No, everything else is exactly as I left it.’
Martin knelt down to lift up the bed covers.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Bernard in surprise. ‘Oh, you’re looking for the gun.’
‘Yes,’ said Martin, squinting to peer under the bed and all the way over to the wall. ‘Any objections?’
‘No, damn it. Knock yourself out!’ Bernard leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and watched with amusement as Martin crept about on the floor.
After a few minutes Martin stood up, brushed off his trousers, and said, ‘I assume you brought a suitcase. Can I see it?’
‘Be my guest,’ said Bernard, and pointed at the wardrobe. ‘It’s in there. Go ahead and paw through my underwear.’
Martin pulled the suitcase out of the cramped space, placed it on the floor, and opened the lid. He rummaged through the clothes and searched the side pockets but found nothing.
‘No smoking gun?’ said Bernard, watching as Martin put the suitcase back in the wardrobe.
‘No,’ said Martin. ‘I didn’t find a thing.’
‘Am I still your primary suspect?’ Bernard seemed to be genuinely enjoying the situation.
‘You’re at the top of the list, at any rate. So don’t leave town, as they say.’
‘No risk of that.’ Bernard laughed. ‘Although it sounds as though the bloody storm is starting to abate at last. Maybe it won’t be long before we can leave this godforsaken place.’
‘Let’s hope so.’ Martin looked around one last time before he left the room. Bernard followed.
‘Can I have my phone back?’ asked Bernard, holding out his hand.
‘No. I’ll keep it for the time being,’ Martin told him, patting his pocket. ‘There’s still no phone reception, so you won’t be needing it.’
‘What about the book?’
‘I’m going to ask the others whether anyone knows anything about it. But I’d be surprised if anyone voluntarily admits to putting it in your room. What do you think? Is it some sort of message to you?’
‘Or maybe I put it there myself. To throw you off the trail. Don’t forget that I’m your prime suspect!’ He laughed again.
This time Martin couldn’t keep silent. ‘Do you think the situation is funny? Your cousin is dead. And your grandfather, too. But you seem to regard the whole thing as a joke.’
‘I’m crying inside,’ said Bernard, melodramatically clutching his hand to his chest.
Martin couldn’t stand looking at him any longer. He pushed his way past and went back downstairs. There he met Börje.
‘The storm is letting up,’ he said, and Martin nodded. ‘Yes, we noticed. Maybe we’ll be able to leave soon.’
‘Well, we don’t really want our guests to be eager to leave. But in this situation I can understand how you all feel.’ Börje then pointed towards the library. ‘There’s fresh cof
fee.’
‘Thanks,’ said Martin, and headed in that direction. He heard Bernard coming down the stairs behind him. Martin hurried to enter the library so he wouldn’t have to listen to any more idiotic comments.
‘What have you been doing?’ asked Harald, who had regained some of his authority. He gave Martin a stern look.
‘We were checking on something,’ he replied with a dismissive gesture. He planned on telling all of them what they’d found, but he wanted to do it on his own terms.
He went over to the table where the coffee maker had been placed and poured himself a cup. Then he sat down on the sofa. Lisette had moved from where she’d been sitting at her mother’s feet and was now slumped on the sofa, staring at the floor with glassy eyes. Martin reached out to stroke her hand, which was resting on the sofa cushion. She didn’t respond, but at least she didn’t push his hand away. Martin realized that he’d been terribly negligent when it came to his duties as her boyfriend. Or rather, ex boyfriend. He hadn’t even made an attempt to comfort her.
Martin could hear that Bernard was building up to tell his father about the book on the bedside table, so he jumped into the conversation.
‘It appears that someone went into Bernard’s room earlier today. At least, that’s what Bernard claims.’ He couldn’t resist adding the latter remark. ‘And this person seems to have taken a mobile phone and then placed a book on the bedside table. Do any of you know anything about this?’ Martin looked around at everyone gathered in the library. Silence was the only reply. Britten didn’t seem to have heard the question. Bernard and Gustav merely shook their heads. Vivi and Miranda, who were sitting on the sofa across from him, also seemed preoccupied with other thoughts. Miranda’s face was white as a sheet. Martin suddenly remembered that both she and her mother had had an odd look on their faces when he met them on the stairs. That might be something worth checking out.
The Scent of Almonds Page 9
