The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

by Mari Jungstedt

  ‘Did you ever talk about this afterwards?’

  ‘No. It was as if everyone was embarrassed and found it too unpleasant. We took the easiest way out by keeping silent. John and I did talk about it with each other, of course, right after it happened. He told me that Monica finally calmed down. Or rather, her anger gave way to despair, and she sobbed for several hours. She thought she’d made a fool of herself, and after that she and Sten stayed away. Just a few weeks later, they moved. That didn’t upset the rest of us. They’d only lived here a short time, they had no children, and we really hadn’t got to know each other very well.’

  ‘Yet you had group sex with them! How was that possible?’

  ‘I’ve wondered about that too. I mean, we’re such a close-knit group that we really don’t need to let anyone else into our inner circle. There are a lot of people living in the area. Everybody spends time together, having dinners, and crayfish parties, and Midsummer celebrations. But our small group is especially close; we have our own circle inside of the larger social circle, so to speak. And now that I think about it, in hindsight I wonder why we let those two in so easily.’

  ‘So what’s your theory?’

  ‘I don’t really have one. I know that Sten somehow became friends with Håkan, and he was the one who decided to include Sten and Monica. They came to a few dinners and were terribly nice, and I suppose that’s how it happened. Maybe we felt a little sorry for the two of them. They were such outsiders, with no children, working here on a trial basis, and only renting their house. Maybe we saw them as temporary visitors who wouldn’t threaten or change our friendships. And so we were more generous towards them.’ Beata looked pensive as she stared at the opposite wall. Jacobsson chose to change tack.

  ‘A witness saw a couple having sex outdoors near Svaidestugan in Follingbo late one night at the end of May. And the car they’d arrived in belonged to Andrea Dahlberg. Do you have any idea who those people might have been?’

  Beata looked surprised.

  ‘No. That sounds strange. I mean, if it wasn’t Sam and Andrea trying to spice up their sex life.’

  Jacobsson decided not to say anything about Stina’s pregnancy. For the time being the police didn’t want to make that information public.

  ‘Let’s go back to those parties of yours. How did the whole group continue after that? Did you talk about what happened?’

  Beata shifted her gaze back to Jacobsson, although she still looked preoccupied. A smile flitted across her lips.

  ‘That’s what’s so funny about it all. Even though we consider ourselves to be such good friends, we never discussed the matter. We pretended to each other that nothing had happened. As if we all thought that if we stuck our heads in the sand, the memory of the whole mess would simply disappear.’

  ‘And did it?’

  Beata sighed.

  ‘No. I honestly don’t think so. We tried hard to pretend that everything was back to normal, that it wasn’t important. But certain things had definitely changed. That much was clear.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Our friendships felt strained, as if we had to keep up the pretence at all costs. But I think everyone could feel how holes had begun to appear in the fabric of our relationships. Stina, especially, seemed to change afterwards. She withdrew more, and she stopped going for walks with us. Suddenly she started jogging instead. She seemed more involved with the kids and with her job.’

  ‘What about Sam? Did you notice any difference in him?’

  Beata shook her head.

  ‘No, not really.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘It didn’t bother me. I can separate sex from other kinds of relationships.’

  ‘But what about the fact that your husband was attracted to Stina? Didn’t that bother you?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘You’ll have to excuse me, but I have a hard time believing that,’ Jacobsson persisted. ‘It didn’t upset you in the least?’

  ‘No. It was just a sexual attraction. Nothing more. And I can handle that.’

  Beata reached for the glass of water on the table. Jacobsson noticed that her hand was shaking. She dropped the subject for the moment.

  ‘What about Andrea? Do you know if she ever saw this man named Sten again?’

  ‘No, I really don’t think she did. He and Monica moved away and, as far as I know, nobody has heard from them since. Andrea was also terribly in love with Sam. She adored him beyond all reason, as if he were a Greek god. As if they never had any problems in their marriage.’

  ‘And yet she behaved that way at the party, with Sten?’

  ‘I think it was mostly to get Sam’s attention, to make him realize that other men desired her.’

  ‘Why would she feel the need to do something like that?’

  ‘Even though Andrea is sexy and attractive and she’s used to having men look at her, I think she compared herself too much to Stina. And, in her own eyes, she always fell short. Stina enchanted people. There was something magnetic about her eyes, and she radiated a charm that made men fall all over themselves. I think Andrea was jealous, and that’s why she gave in to Sten like that. It was a way of showing off, of saying: “See, I can do it too.” Both to Stina and to her husband.’

  Jacobsson shook her head. The whole thing sounded awfully naive. Was this really the way grown-up people behaved?

  ‘Do you think she’d noticed that Sam was attracted to somebody else?’

  ‘Maybe. Although I think his job took up most of his time.’

  ‘So what do you think about the murders? Do you have any idea who might have killed them?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about Sten and Monica. And in hindsight I think it was the two of them who initiated the whole thing. Or rather, he did. He was the one who urged us on.’

  ‘What’s their last name? Do you remember?’

  ‘They weren’t married. Her last name was Nordin, and his was … Oh, that’s right, it was Boberg. His name was Sten Boberg.’

  BY TUESDAY ANDREA Dahlberg still hadn’t been in touch with the police, and the interview with Håkan Ek had produced largely the same information that they’d gleaned from Beata Dunmar. The police had of course mentioned Stina’s pregnancy to Håkan. He seemed genuinely surprised and claimed that he hadn’t known anything about it. Jacobsson was inclined to believe him; he seemed sincere.

  When it came to the parties, it sounded as if Beata and Håkan had discussed the matter. It was an experiment that had got out of hand, and everyone wanted to forget about it, even though that had proved hard to do. Naturally Håkan had noticed certain changes in Stina, and he’d already told the police about that. But as Håkan said, she was getting close to forty and had been thinking more than usual about her past. He’d said that life often caught up with a person at that age, and Jacobsson felt strongly affected by his words. That was exactly what had happened to her.

  At the same time, the police had finally received a concrete and tangible lead to follow. Wittberg had been in contact with Monica Nordin on the phone, and she told him that she and Sten had split up long ago. They had never been married, just lived together for about a year. First for a few months in central Stockholm, and then Monica’s job had taken her to Gotland. Sten, who had his own business, had followed, even though they’d only been together a short time. They found a house to rent in Terra Nova, and their plans for the future had included both children and a dog. But their relationship had begun to deteriorate, and the situation got worse after the parties started. Sten talked about nothing else. Several times she’d caught him spying on Andrea, and after the last party, their relationship was over. Monica had not only moved away from Gotland, she’d also split up with Sten. She wanted nothing more to do with him.

  It had been more difficult for the police to locate Sten Boberg. His business no longer seemed to be functioning, nobody answered the phone, and the email address wasn’t working. He’d apparently moved around to vario
us addresses, but Wittberg finally tracked him down to a block of flats due to be demolished in Upplands Bro municipality, about 30 kilometres north of Stockholm. Wittberg had asked the Stockholm police for help in bringing Boberg in for questioning.

  Now they were just waiting for their colleagues in the capital to report back.

  AFTER COUNTLESS ATTEMPTED phone calls, Jacobsson finally reached Andrea’s mother, Marianne, late Tuesday afternoon.

  ‘We’re looking for your daughter. As I understand it, she’s been on a sailing trip with you. Is she there now?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not,’ said the woman on the phone.

  Her voice was so faint that Jacobsson had to strain to hear what she said.

  ‘Maybe I misunderstood, but her cousin told us that she and the children were staying with you.’

  ‘The children are here with me and my husband, but Andrea decided to stay at home.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘She changed her mind.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Just before we were supposed to leave,’ said her mother with a sigh. ‘Everything was all set, and we were standing on the dock …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, she just decided not to come with us.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘She got a phone call.’

  ‘A phone call?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘She took the call and afterwards she told us that she needed to go and see somebody.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Do you know who she was talking to?’

  ‘No.’

  Jacobsson felt a growing annoyance. She practically had to drag every word out of this woman.

  ‘But you’d made plans to go sailing for a whole week with her and the children. What explanation did she give for not going with you?’

  ‘None. She just said that she’d meet us later.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘The next day. At least that’s what she said.’

  ‘And did she?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you talked to her since then?’

  ‘No, actually, I haven’t. I’ve tried to phone her, but it’s hard to get through from out here in the archipelago.’

  ‘Do you have any idea where she might be?’

  ‘No, I don’t. I have no idea.’

  ONE DAY WHEN my sister came home from school she stopped talking. I asked her a question – I can’t remember what it was about – but she refused to answer. She wouldn’t say a word. I was completely bewildered. I could tell from her expression that she had made up her mind. She wasn’t going to talk any more. Mamma was at the hospital, and Pappa was out in the fields. Ploughing, or whatever it was that he was doing. I got upset, asked her what was wrong, what had happened. She just gave me a solemn look, shook her head, and then went to her room. Later Mamma came home and began cooking dinner. I told her that Emilia was refusing to talk. She thought I was joking. ‘Oh, what kind of foolishness is that?’ She dried her hands on her apron and went upstairs. She called to Emilia on the way up, but received no answer. I followed at her heels, worried about what would happen. Both Emilia and I had great respect for our parents. Would Emilia dare to defy Mamma?

  ‘Hello, dear. Why didn’t you answer when I called you?’ said Mamma reproachfully as she pushed open the door to Emilia’s room.

  Emilia was sitting on the bed with her diary on her lap. Pale and sombre, she looked at Mamma without saying a word.

  ‘What’s wrong with you? What’s this all about?’

  At first Mamma just sound irritated, but when Emilia persisted in keeping silent, Mamma grew desperate. She scolded and cursed, but nothing helped. Emilia refused to speak. Mamma grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. My sister just sat there, seemingly unaffected. As if it didn’t bother her in the slightest that Mamma was screaming and carrying on. Horrified, I watched the scene unfold before me. Mamma was angrily trying to make my sister open her mouth, forcing her lips apart with her fingers. Emilia offered no resistance; she seemed almost apathetic, just staring into space, her eyes glassy. Nothing seemed to reach her. Mamma then started to cry, pleading with her daughter. She fell to her knees next to the bed, took Emilia’s hand in her own, and begged her to say something. But Mamma’s efforts were in vain. Not one word crossed Emilia’s lips.

  That was when I understood how serious the situation was.

  And that I would never again hear my sister speak.

  KNUTAS HAD TRIED to contact Jacobsson all afternoon without success. He was in the kitchen making himself an omelette for dinner when she rang.

  ‘Finally you called me back,’ he said, taking the frying pan off the burner. He slid the omelette on to a plate while he clamped the phone between his ear and shoulder.

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s been crazy all day. There have been a few developments in the case at last.’

  ‘Really?’ said Knutas with interest. ‘What are they, if I might ask?’

  ‘It turns out that this nice little group of friends used to sleep around. With each other.’

  Jacobsson then told him what they’d found out, and about the couple, Sten and Monica.

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ exclaimed Knutas. ‘And nobody breathed a word about this?’

  ‘Actually, that’s not so hard to understand,’ said Jacobsson. ‘It’s not exactly something that you’d want to make public.’

  ‘This Sten sounds like a real scumbag. Have you got hold of him yet?’

  ‘We’re working on it. Was there anything special that you wanted to tell me?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. Don’t be cross with me, but I was feeling so bored here at home that I decided to do a little research. Do you know about Andrea Dahlberg’s tragic background?’

  ‘No. What do you mean?’

  ‘Do you know that her father was convicted of sexually assaulting her older sister when Andrea was only thirteen?’

  Knutas paused for effect. He could hear Jacobsson gasp.

  ‘No. How do you know that?’

  ‘I’ve been checking up on everyone in the group, looking into their past and going further back in time than we’ve done previously. I’ve basically gone through everything since they were born. The person who turned out to have the most secrets was Andrea Dahlberg.’

  ‘Tell me what you found out.’

  ‘When she was twelve her sister committed suicide. Andrea was the one who found her at home in bed, unconscious after swallowing a lot of pills. They couldn’t save her. A short time after her sister’s death, it came out that her father had been raping her sister for years. He was sentenced to five years in prison. Andrea’s mother filed for divorce, and they moved to Stockholm. As far as I know, she’s never had any contact with her father since then.’

  ‘What a tragic story. But what does this have to do with the murders?’

  ‘Maybe nothing. I just thought you should know about it. We’ve questioned everyone involved so thoroughly, but Andrea has never mentioned any of this.’

  ‘Maybe it would be too difficult for her to talk about it.’

  ‘Of course. But I think we need to interview her again.’

  ‘Definitely. There’s just one hitch. Andrea Dahlberg has disappeared.’

  JACOBSSON WALKED HOME on Tuesday evening. It had been an eventful day, and it was nice to get outside, breathe in some fresh air and clear her head. She took a detour, heading towards town and through the Botanical Gardens, and then continued along the shoreline promenade. She had just stepped on to the path when a little spotted dog came dashing towards her. Right behind him was somebody she recognized at once. Those shoulders, that hair, that posture. It was impossible to ignore the tremor that passed through her body like hot lightning. It was him, Janne Widén, the photographer who lived in Terra Nova. He saw her and gave a cheerful wave as he came running after his dog.


  ‘Hi again! I’m sorry, but he’s hopeless. He refuses to listen to me the minute he sees something interesting.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Jacobsson with a smile. She patted the dog, whose joy at seeing her again seemed to know no bounds.

  ‘Do you live nearby?’ he asked with interest.

  She noticed that his eyes were greyish-green.

  ‘No, not really. I live on Mellangatan, but I thought it’d be nice to take a walk after work.’

  ‘I came out here with Baloo, to let him swim and run around for a while. He’s been keeping me company all day while I worked, and that wasn’t much fun for him. Is it OK if I walk with you for a bit?’

  ‘Sure.’

  They started walking in the direction of the hospital. The sea was glittering and still in the evening sun. A few ducks were soundlessly gliding around on the mirror-like surface. The puppy leaped around at the water’s edge, jumping and splashing about.

  ‘How’s the investigation going? Have you got any suspects?’

  Jacobsson smiled.

  ‘If we did, I wouldn’t be able to discuss it.’

  ‘Of course. Sorry. I’m just interested. Since I’m a neighbour and everything. What a senseless thing to happen; it’s hard to believe it’s all true. That it really did happen, right in our midst.’

  ‘How do you think the other neighbours are reacting?’

  ‘They’re shocked and puzzled, of course. Something like this creates a lot of uneasiness. Some people won’t let their children go outdoors to play on their own in the evenings. People are being more careful about locking their doors. And no one sleeps with the windows open any more. Everyone has become more cautious. There isn’t the same relaxed atmosphere we used to have.’ He shook his head, and then tossed a ball for the dog. ‘I really hope it gets resolved soon, so that things will go back to normal.’