The Gallows Bird

by Camilla Lackberg

  ‘What about you, Mehmet?’ Everyone turned to look at Mehmet, who hadn’t said a word since they entered the café.

  ‘I’m going to stay here,’ he said, waiting defiantly for a reaction. He wasn’t disappointed.

  Five pairs of incredulous eyes turned towards him. ‘What? You’re going to stay? Here?’ Calle looked as though Mehmet had been transformed into a frog before his very eyes.

  ‘Yes, I’m going to keep working at the bakery. I’ll sublet my flat for a while.’

  ‘And where are you going to live? With Simon, or what?’ Tina’s words rang out in the café, and Mehmet’s silence caused a shocked look to spread round the table.

  ‘You are? What’s the deal, are you two an item or what?’

  ‘No, we are not!’ Mehmet retorted. ‘Not that it’s any of your bloody business. We’re just . . . friends.’

  ‘Simon and Mehmet, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,’ Uffe sang, laughing so hard he almost fell off his chair.

  ‘Cut it out, leave Mehmet alone,’ said Jonna almost in a whisper, which oddly enough made the others quiet down. ‘I think that’s a brave decision, Mehmet. You’re better than the rest of us!’

  ‘What do you mean, Jonna?’ said Lars kindly, cocking his head. ‘In what way is Mehmet better?’

  ‘He just is,’ said Jonna, pulling down her sleeves. ‘He’s nice. Kind and considerate.’

  ‘Aren’t you nice?’ Lars asked. The question seemed to contain many layers.

  ‘No,’ Jonna said quietly. In her mind’s eye she was replaying the scene outside the community centre and the hatred she’d felt towards Barbie. How hurt she’d been by what she’d heard Barbie had said about her, how much she’d wanted to hurt her back. She’d felt true satisfaction the instant she cut Barbie’s skin with the knife. A nice person wouldn’t have done that. But she didn’t mention any of that. Instead she looked out of the window at the traffic passing by. The cameramen had already packed up and gone home. That was what she had to do now too. Go home. To a big empty flat. To notes on the kitchen table telling her not to wait up. To brochures about various training courses that were left purposely out on the coffee table. To the silence.

  ‘So what are you going to do now?’ Uffe asked Lars, with a bit of a sarcastic tone. ‘Now that you won’t have us to pamper?’

  ‘I’ll find a way to keep busy,’ said Lars, taking a swallow of his sweet tea. ‘I’m going to work on my book, maybe open my own practice. And what about you, Uffe? You haven’t said what you’re going to do.’

  With feigned nonchalance Uffe shrugged his shoulders. ‘Oh, nothing special. There’ll probably be a bar tour for a while. I’ll no doubt have to listen to that damn “I Want to Be Your Little Bunny” song till it’s coming out my ears.’ He glared at Tina. ‘Then, well, I don’t know. It’ll work out.’ For a moment the uncertainty was visible behind his tough-guy mask. Then it was gone again, and he laughed. ‘Just check out what I can do!’ He took the coffee spoon and hung it from his nose. Damn if he intended to waste time worrying about the future. Guys that could balance spoons on their nose would always get by.

  When they left the café to go out to the bus that was waiting to take them away from Tanum, Jonna stopped for a moment. For an instant she thought she’d seen Barbie sitting among them. With that long blonde hair and those press-on nails that made it nearly impossible for her to do anything. Laughing, with that soft, sweet expression of hers. They’d all regarded it as a sign of weakness, but Jonna now realized that she’d been wrong. It wasn’t just Mehmet. Barbie had also been nice. For the first time she began to think about that Friday when everything had gone so wrong. About who had actually said what. About who’d been spreading those stories that Jonna now thought were lies. About who had pulled their strings like marionettes. Something was stirring in the back of her mind, but before the thought had fully emerged, the bus drove off from Tanumshede. She stared out of the window. The seat next to her was conspicuously empty.

  Towards ten in the morning Patrik had begun to regret that he hadn’t forced himself to eat more breakfast. His stomach was growling, so he went to the break room looking for something edible. He was in luck. There was one lone cinnamon bun left in a bag on the table, and he shoved it hungrily into his mouth. Not the best snack, but it would have to do. He had no sooner returned to his office, his mouth full of bun, when the phone rang. He saw that it was Annika and tried to swallow the last bite, but it stuck in his throat. ‘Hello?’ he said with a cough.

  ‘Patrik?’

  He swallowed a couple of times and managed to get the rest of the bun down. ‘Yes, it’s me.’

  ‘You have a visitor,’ she said, and he could hear from her tone that it was important.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Sofie Kaspersen.’

  He felt a spark of interest. Marit’s daughter? What could she want?

  ‘Send her in,’ he said and went out into the hall to wait for Sofie. She looked haggard and pale, and he vaguely recalled that Gösta had said something about her having a stomach flu when they visited her and Ola.

  ‘I hear you’ve been sick. Are you feeling better now?’ he said as he showed her into his office.

  She nodded. ‘Yes, I had a touch of the flu. But it’s better now. I lost a few kilos is all,’ she said with a wry smile.

  ‘Oh, maybe I should get the flu too,’ he said with a laugh, as a way to lighten the mood. The girl looked shocked at the idea. There was an awkward pause. Patrik waited her out.

  ‘Have you found out anything more . . . about Mamma?’ she said at last.

  ‘No, I’m afraid we’ve hit a wall.’

  ‘So you don’t know what the connection is between her . . . and the others?’

  ‘No,’ Patrik said again, wondering what she was getting at. He went on cautiously, ‘There’s obviously something we haven’t discovered yet. Something we don’t know . . . about your mother, and the others.’

  ‘Hmm,’ was all Sofie said.

  ‘It’s important that we know everything. So that we can find the person who took your mother from you.’ He could hear the entreaty in his voice, but he could see that there was something Sofie wanted to tell him. Something about her mother.

  After another long pause her hand gently touched the sleeve of his jacket. With her eyes lowered she took out a sheet of paper and held it out to Patrik. She raised her eyes again when he started to read, studying him intently.

  ‘Where did you find this?’ Patrik said when he’d finished reading. He felt a tingling sensation in his stomach.

  ‘In a drawer. In Pappa’s room. But it was with Mamma’s things that she had saved. It was in with a bunch of photos and stuff.’

  ‘Does your pappa know that you found this?’

  Sofie shook her head. Her straight dark hair danced round her face. ‘No, and he won’t be happy about it. But the officers that came by last week said to contact you if we knew anything, and I felt that I should tell you. For Mamma’s sake,’ she added, and went back to studying her cuticles.

  ‘You did the right thing,’ Patrik said. ‘We needed to have this information, and I do believe you may have given us the key.’ He couldn’t hide his excitement. So much now fitted together. Other pieces of the puzzle were whirling round in his head: Börje’s criminal record, Rasmus’s injuries, Elsa’s guilt – it all made sense.

  ‘May I take this?’ He waved the paper.

  ‘Could you make a copy instead?’ Sofie said. ‘Absolutely. And if your pappa makes a fuss, tell him to call me. You did the right thing.’

  He made a copy on the machine out in the corridor, gave Sofie back the original, and then escorted her out. He stood watching as she trudged across the street, her head lowered and her hands stuck deep in her pockets. She seemed to be headed over to Kerstin’s. He hoped so. Those two needed each other more than they realized.

  With triumph in his eyes he went back inside to set everything in motion. At long last they had their
breakthrough!

  The past week had been the best in Bertil Mellberg’s life. He could hardly believe this was happening. Rose-Marie had slept over two more times, and even though his nocturnal activities were beginning to leave their mark in the form of dark rings under his eyes, it was worth it. He caught himself walking about and humming, and he even made an occasional jump for joy. But only when no one was looking.

  She was fantastic. He couldn’t get over what luck he’d had. It was amazing that this vision of a woman had picked him as her chosen one. No, he just couldn’t understand it. And they had already begun talking about the future. They had shyly agreed that they did have a future together. No doubt about that. Mellberg, who had always had a healthy reluctance to carry on a long-term relationship, now could hardly contain himself.

  They had talked a lot about the past too. He had told her about Simon and proudly showed her a picture of his son who had come into his life so late. Rose-Marie had commented on how handsome he was, so like his father; she said that she really looked forward to meeting him. She herself had a daughter up north in Kiruna and one in the States. So far away, both of them, she’d said with sorrow in her voice, and she showed him pictures of her two grandchildren who lived in America. Maybe they could take a trip over there together next summer, Rose-Marie had suggested, and he had nodded eagerly. America – he’d never dreamed of travelling so far. To tell the truth, he’d never even been outside the borders of Sweden before. A brief trip across the bridge to Norway at Svinesund hardly counted as foreign travel. But Rose-Marie was opening a whole new world for him. She had just begun to think about buying a time-share condo in Spain, she told him as she lay in his arms one night. A white stucco house with a balcony, a view over the Mediterranean, its own pool, and bougainvillea climbing up the façade, smelling so wonderful in the warm air. Mellberg could picture it. How he and Rose-Marie would sit on the balcony on a warm summer evening with their arms round each other, sipping their ice-cold drinks. A thought had then occurred to him and refused to let go. In the darkness of the bedroom he had turned his face to hers and solemnly suggested that they buy the apartment together. He waited nervously for her reaction; at first she hadn’t been as enthusiastic as he’d hoped; she seemed a bit uneasy. Then they’d talked about having to get legal documents for everything so that it wouldn’t lead to any arguments about money. That wouldn’t do at all. He had smiled and kissed the tip of her nose. She was so cute when she was worried. But at last they’d agreed to do it.

  As Mellberg sat there in his office chair with his eyes closed he could almost feel the warm breeze on his cheeks. The scent of sun-tan oil and fresh peaches. The curtains fluttering in the wind that brought the smell of the sea. He saw himself leaning over to Rose-Marie, lifting the brim of her sun hat, and . . . A knock on his door woke him out of his daydream.

  ‘Come in,’ he said crossly, quickly taking his feet down from his desk and shuffling the papers that lay spread out in front of him.

  ‘I hope this is important, I’m very busy,’ he said to Hedström as he came in.

  Patrik nodded and sat down. ‘It’s very important,’ he said, placing the copy of Sofie’s paper on the desk.

  Mellberg read it. And for once he agreed.

  There was something about springtime that always made Annika feel sad. She went to work, did what she had to do, went home, hung out with Lennart and the dogs, and then went to bed. The same routine as during the other seasons, but in the springtime she got a feeling it was all meaningless. Actually she had a very good life. She and Lennart had a better marriage than most and their shared passion for drag racing took them all over Sweden. Most of the time, that was enough. But for some reason she always felt there was something missing in the spring. That was when her longing for children hit her full force. She had no idea why. Maybe it was because her first miscarriage had been in the spring. The third of April, a date that would for ever be etched into her heart. Even though it was more than fifteen years ago. Eight more miscarriages had followed, countless visits to the doctor, examinations, treatments. But nothing had helped. And finally they’d accepted the situation and tried to make the best of things. Of course they’d discussed adoption as well, but they never seemed to get around to it. All those years of miscalculations and disappointment had made them feel vulnerable and insecure. They didn’t dare take the risk again. And so, each spring, she longed for her little boys and girls, who for some reason had not been ready for life, either in her womb or outside of it. Sometimes she pictured them in her mind as tiny angels, hovering round her like promises. Days like that were hard. And today was one of those days.

  Annika blinked away the tears and tried to concentrate on the Excel spreadsheet on her computer. Nobody at the station knew anything about her personal tragedy. All they knew was that Annika and Lennart had never had children, and she didn’t want to make a fool of herself by sitting here and blubbering in reception. She squinted as she tried to match up the data in the cells before her. The name of the dog owner on the left and the address information on the right. It had taken more time than she’d thought, but now she finally had all the addresses entered onto the list. She saved the file on a disk and popped it out of the computer. The cherubs hovered round her, asking what their names would have been, what games they would have played together, what they would have become when they grew up. Annika felt the sobs rising again and looked at the clock. Eleven thirty; she ought to go home for lunch today. She felt that she needed some time in peace and quiet by herself. But first she had to give Patrik the disk. She knew that he wanted to have all the information ASAP.

  In the corridor she ran into Hanna and saw an opportunity to avoid Patrik’s piercing gaze. ‘Hi, Hanna,’ she said. ‘Could you drop this off with Patrik? It’s a list of the dog owners with addresses. I . . . I have to go home for lunch today.’

  ‘What’s the matter? Aren’t you feeling well?’ Hanna said with concern, taking the diskette.

  Annika forced a smile. ‘I’m fine, I just feel like having a home-cooked meal today.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Hanna. ‘I’ll drop off the disk with Patrik. See you later.’

  ‘See you,’ said Annika, hurrying out the door. The cherubs followed her home.

  Patrik looked up when Hanna came in.

  ‘Here, this is from Annika. The dog owners.’ She handed him the disk and Patrik put it on the desk.

  ‘Sit down for a moment,’ he said, pointing to a chair. She did, and Patrik gave her a searching look.

  ‘So how has your first month been? Do you like working here? A bit chaotic in the beginning, perhaps?’ He smiled and received a wan smile in return. To be completely honest, he’d been worrying a bit about his new colleague. She was looking tired and worn out. Sure, that’s how they all looked but there was something else. Something transparent about her face, something more than normal exhaustion. Her blonde hair was combed back in a ponytail as usual, but it had no lustre and she had dark circles under her eyes.

  ‘Things have been going great,’ she said cheerfully, not seeming to notice how he was scrutinizing her. ‘I’m enjoying it and I like being busy.’ She looked around, at all the documents and photographs pinned up on the walls, and paused. ‘That sounded tactless. But you know what I mean.’

  ‘I know,’ Patrik said with a smile. ‘And Mellberg, has it . . .’ he searched for the right word, ‘has he behaved himself?’

  Hanna laughed and for a moment her face softened and he recognized the woman who had started with them five weeks earlier. ‘I’ve hardly seen him, to tell the truth, so yes, you could say he’s behaved himself. If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that everybody regards you as the person in charge. And that you do the job proud.’

  Patrik felt himself blush. It wasn’t often he got a compliment, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

  ‘Thanks,’ he muttered, and then quickly changed the subject. ‘I’m going to have a new run-through in an hour. I thought
we’d gather in the break room. It’s so cramped in here.’

  ‘Have you got something new?’ Hanna said, sitting up straight in her chair.

  ‘Well, yes, you could say that,’ said Patrik and couldn’t repress a smile. ‘We may have found the key to what connects the cases.’ His smile grew.

  Hanna sat up even straighter. ‘The connection? You’ve found it?’

  ‘It just came to me, you might say. But first I have to make two calls to confirm things, so I don’t want to say anything before the meeting. So far I’ve only told Mellberg.’

  ‘Okay, then I’ll see you in an hour,’ said Hanna, getting up to leave.

  Patrik still couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong. But she would probably tell him soon enough.

  He picked up the receiver and punched in the first number.

  ‘We’ve found the connection we’ve been looking for.’ Patrik looked around, enjoying the effect of his announcement. His gaze paused for a moment on Annika, and he noticed she looked a bit red round the eyes. That was highly unusual. Annika was always happy and positive in all situations, and he made a mental note to talk with her after the meeting to hear how she was doing.

  ‘The crucial piece of the puzzle was brought in by Sofie Kaspersen today. She found an old newspaper article among her mother’s things and decided to bring it to us. Gösta and Hanna visited her and her father last week, and apparently they made a good impression on her, which led to her decision to contact us. Well done!’ he said, nodding his approval in their direction.

  ‘The article . . .’ he couldn’t resist pausing for effect as he felt the tension mounting in the room, ‘the article deals with the fact that twenty years ago Marit was involved in an auto accident that resulted in a fatality. She crashed into a car driven by an elderly lady, who died. When the police arrived at the scene it turned out that Marit had a high alcohol count in her blood. She was sentenced to prison for eleven months.’