The Forest Lake Mystery
Page 17
“Mr Sjöström’s lack of need surprises me,” he continued. “I was under the impression that the ninety thousand kroner Mr Sjöström picked up in Helsingborg in March found a big hole in his pocket in Nice.”
Sjöström went pale and gripped the back of the chair.
“But perhaps the money is still in your possession?” continued Holst.
“Who are you?” asked Sjöström. “How dare you force your way into my house and poke your nose into my business? Will you leave, please?”
“No, I will not,” said Holst, “that is, not unless you will come with me, Mr Sjöström.”
“With you…?”
“Yes, with me. I have an errand in addition to the greeting you didn’t seem to appreciate and the offer you didn’t want to accept. It’s in connection with your settlement with Mr Karlkvist and Enskilda Banken in Scania. It appears that you have drawn too much, Mr Sjöström. At least, that’s the bank’s opinion and it has delegated me to settle this balance with you.”
Sjöström had gone pale, but he mastered his emotions perfectly.
“Lieutenant, I don’t understand you and I am terminating this conversation. You may go.”
He drew back to the door. Holst stood up calmly and fixed him with a firm look.
“My apologies, Mr Sjöström, at having to be so disagreeable towards you, but it is my duty to inform you that at the moment you take one step closer to that door, a shot will sound that will in consequence bring a little commotion into the building that can be avoided if you will come with me willingly.”
Sjöström stood for a moment like a tiger about to leap, before collecting himself and running at Holst with lightning speed, but Holst had been carefully watching every one of his movements and he quickly grabbed his chair, flung it at him, stopping him in mid-leap and causing him to fall on the floor with a mighty crash a few steps from Holst.
The door of the neighbouring room opened and Jeannette appeared in the doorway – white as a sheet. Behind her a young man stepped forward and rushed at Holst to assist the master of the house. Jeannette tried to hold him back. Sjöström was rolling around trying to get free of the chair. Holst stood calmly in front of the door to the entrance hall, the revolver gleaming in his hand. When he caught sight of the young man, he looked down instinctively. It was Claes Ankerkrone.
The young Swede remained where he was in deep surprise.
“The detective – papa’s detective – what the devil are you up to with Hugold Sjöström?”
Jeannette’s gaze rested on Holst. At the word ‘detective’, she gave a start and stood stock still. Sjöström had got to his feet; he was bending over, supported by the chair, the seat of which had broken off.
“Mr Sjöström,” said Holst, recovering himself, “I would have preferred to avoid any scene in the presence of this lady and the young gentleman. It is your fault that it hasn’t been avoided. Mr Ankerkrone knows me and my position. I have been ordered to arrest you and I therefore declare you arrested. You will kindly come with me.”
Sjöström raised the chair as a weapon, but Claes Ankerkrone intervened.
“No stupidity, Hugold – allow me, I know the gentleman.”
Sjöström lowered the chair. Claes turned to Holst.
“Lieutenant Sjöström is my friend,” he began in a cold, slightly supercilious tone. “Perhaps I might ask what right a Danish detective has to arrest a Swedish subject on international soil?”
“Mr Ankerkrone,” Holst answered calmly. “It would be best for you to keep out of this case for the time being. I am acting on my responsibility and under orders.”
“It’s an injustice and we won’t stand for it,” Ankerkrone exclaimed vehemently. “I’m speaking for Hugold.”
Holst smiled.
“This could become harder than you think, Lieutenant.”
“A man is at least entitled to know why he is being arrested.”
“Falsification and fraud is all I am allowed to say.”
“For how much?” asked Ankerkrone.
“A trifle,” said Holst with a smile, “just a few thousand kroner.”
“I’ll raise it,” Claes cut in.
“Eighty-nine thousand kroner – it’s quite a lot of money.”
“Means nothing – give me time and I’ll settle the matter. It can be done with less, I suppose?”
Sjöström stood motionless. He felt that Holst’s eyes were fixed on him.
“Will the lady be so kind as to open up?” Holst said with a firm look at Jeannette. “There are two gentlemen outside the door who want to come in.”
Jeannette hesitated.
“Everything will depend on whether or not the lady will – if she won’t, she will have to take the consequences.”
Jeannette looked closely at Holst with an enquiring look in her eyes – he bowed his head and she was out of the door like lightning.
Before Sjöström had pulled himself together, the door to the hall was flung open and the two Italian police officers stepped into the living room. Ankerkrone protested, but Holst intervened and put his hand on his arm.
“Out of regard for your father, you should think seriously about what you’re doing, Lieutenant Ankerkrone,” he said.
Sjöström tried to free himself from the two Italians standing by his side, but a brief steely click betrayed that the handcuffs had been fastened around his wrists. The veins in his forehead swelled and he made a cramped move to free himself, but sank exhausted on a chair. Ankerkrone stood silently, his cheeks coloured with indignation.
“This is a dirty trick,” he said in Swedish. “I’m going to the consulate.”
Holst turned calmly to him.
“If you’ll take my advice, Lieutenant, you’ll go to your father first; I give you my word of honour that this business is more serious than you might think.” He leant towards him and whispered, “Annie…”
Claes Ankerkrone went pale. Sjöström stood up and addressed his friend in a subdued tone.
“Do what you can for me, Claes, and for her over there.”
One of the officers threw a cloak around him and led him away. Ankerkrone was left standing undecided on the threshold of the living room. Jeannette was leaning against a desk, her face frozen, and the old woman appeared in the door with great consternation.
Holst turned to Ankerkrone.
“The lieutenant can calmly leave me to take care of everything. You should go. I’ll make the necessary explanations later.”
Ankerkrone lifted his head defiantly.
“I promised Sjöström that I would look after the young lady.”
“That’s not necessary, Lieutenant. I’ll take that responsibility – isn’t that so, Madame?”
Jeannette bowed her head weakly. Ankerkrone wanted to protest, but Holst turned to face him.
“What has taken place here will show you that I have the authority,” he said firmly. “I intend to use it and beg you for the last time, seriously: Go!”
The lieutenant took a step back; on a sign from Jeannette, the old woman brought his hat and stick and, with a slight bow to Jeannette, he left the room, giving Holst an almost imperceptible nod. When the door closed behind him, Holst turned smiling to Jeannette.
“Well now, my little friend, now you can see who was the strongest.”
With a leap, Jeannette threw herself into his arms, while the old woman stood in the doorway, gazing at them open-mouthed. Holst gave Jeanette a light kiss on her forehead.
“You won’t be seeing him again soon, Jeannette. Let us two now consider what is wisest for us and, first of all, put this elderly lady in the picture. I need to take a little break after all this excitement.”
VII
The respectable old Signora Montuori was born in Vienna and had immigrated to Venice during the time of the Austrian Empire. Her husband, a southern Italian, had an indeterminate business, which could very well be described as an Agenzia, a mixture of pettifogger and usurer, which is what he w
as. For the time being, more for the sake of his health than for his sins, he was away for a longish term on what the Italians call by the melodious name of ergastolo; we would call it a life sentence. Holst entertained himself animatedly with Signora Montuori, who, after what had just happened, regarded him with superstitious horror. He spoke kindly to her, he was in excellent spirits and in the mood for all kinds of gentle jokes.
“Honourable lady,” he said, “I have the pleasure of bringing you a greeting from one of my friends who was so happy to visit you in your home a few days ago. He was so gullible as to entrust you with storing some effects that had some value for him: a ring of cut diamonds, a gold watch and a hundred and fifty lire in banknotes and gold coin. Unfortunately, he’s unable to come personally and pick up his effects and he was therefore thinking about sending the two gentlemen who took such tender care of Lieutenant Sjöström. I told him that I could carry out his errand and I am quite certain that you, most honourable Mrs Montuori, will entrust me with the named items.”
The old woman shook like a leaf and her toothless gums twitched with terror. But she said she didn’t understand a thing. Jeannette came over to him. Holst put an arm around her waist and pulled her down on his lap.
“Little Jeannette,” he said, “Signora Montuori and I are unable to reach an agreement. She won’t believe my friend Dr Braun has delegated me to pick up some effects he has entrusted to the custody of this house. It’s quite likely that the ‘rozzers’ will find it necessary to institute an inspection of this house and my friend therefore thinks it’s better that these items are entrusted to me. Don’t you think so too, Jeannette?”
Jeannette had gone deathly pale. She wanted to get up, but with Holst’s arm firmly around her waist, she couldn’t free herself. She leant her head down on his shoulder and burst into intense weeping.
“So that’s what you wanted of me,” she whispered through her tears.
The old woman stood trembling. Holst stroked the weeping girl’s hair back over her forehead and kissed her.
“You little fool,” he said, “do you think I would harm you?”
She looked enquiringly at him through her tears. Holst smiled so kindly that she believed him and put an arm around his neck, pressing up against him.
“You will take me with you, won’t you?”
Holst nodded silently and looked up at the lady of the house.
“Well, most honourable lady, have you reconsidered?”
Signora Montuori hesitated. Holst pushed Jeannette softly off his lap.
“The young lady is under my protection, but you will immediately be handed over to the authorities. Do you understand?”
Jeannette went over to the old woman.
“It would be best if you hand over the items.”
Holst rolled a cigarette, before standing up and going over to the Signora and putting his hand on her shoulder.
“Do as I say, little lady – it’s in your best interests. In addition, that’s all I will demand of you – and that you put one of your excellent rooms at my disposal. I like the apartment and I intend to stay here with you if you will have me. You might well be in need of me, and as far as payment is concerned, you can ask for what you want, but I will have those stolen goods.”
Jeannette clapped her hands and found the idea adorable. Signora Montuori didn’t share her enthusiasm, but she realised she was in the weaker position and left the room shaking her head.
It would be unfair, and at the same time untrue, to assert that Holst at this moment felt like a working policeman – it would be unreasonable to expect it too.
Jeannette looked at him with big, pleading eyes.
“Not another word about Dr Braun…”
She warded off the answer with a kiss that couldn’t mean anything else but consent, because it was honestly answered. Holst promised himself that he would do something for this girl. To put her in a home for fallen women was not, despite the seriousness of his moral code and, for that matter, the purity of his character, the first thing to enter his mind. Signora Montuori handed over the booty, which out of prudence hadn’t yet been sold, and Holst was so generous as to give her twenty-five lire as a kind of reward for her good deed.
The whole scenario amused him immensely, but he had grown enormously in the old lady’s respect and very soon she and Jeannette were eagerly in the process of smartening up the apartment for the new tenant. It was now five o’clock and Holst had to go back to the hotel to dress for dinner. At the same time, he took steps to transfer his light luggage to his new neighbourhood.
VIII
Holst met Dr Braun in the hotel’s dining room where he was eating dinner alone. Holst sat opposite him and told him with a little smile on his face that his expedition had been successful.
“I thus have the pleasure of placing the corpora delicti in front of you and hereby hand over your watch, your ring and 125 lire – the other twenty-five went to expenses.”
Braun went bright red.
“And the lady?” he asked.
Holst smiled.
“The lady, the old witch and the terrifying husband are all under police supervision.”
Braun shook his head.
“Poor young woman, she was so enchantingly sweet.”
“You needn’t be concerned,” said Holst. “I’ve taken care that everything is being done without awaking attention, and the police officer whose special supervision she is under will be good to her.”
“Oh yes, I’m sure,” interrupted Braun. “The police are presumably just as utterly depraved and immoral here as they are everywhere else.”
“That’s possible,” said Holst, getting to his feet.
Braun didn’t want to let him go; he wanted the opportunity to show his gratitude, which was amplified further by the fact that he didn’t have to have anything to do with the police and that everything had been settled with the twenty-five lire’s outlay. But Holst was evasive.
“In this case, you have done me a greater service than I have for you and I have no claim on your gratitude.”
Braun didn’t understand that at all; hadn’t Holst himself gone into the lion’s den? Ah well, he wouldn’t speak about it, so it would be importunate to ask. He had his belongings back and he was happy.
* * *
Holst dressed for dinner and at six o’clock he was standing in the entrance hall of the Hotel Victoria. His heart was pounding a little at the thought of meeting Captain Ankerkrone again. The district magistrate was the first man to appear. Holst told him briefly about what had happened. The murderer was now arrested, charged with falsification and fraud, and the necessary formalities for organising his extradition would be initiated the next day. Holst would personally inform the consulate about the case, but since the detainee was a Swedish subject, the negotiations would no doubt be quite complicated and take time. The district magistrate found this rather fortunate, since it meant that he wouldn’t have to interrupt his overseas trip. Holst asked the magistrate not to say anything about the case.
While they were talking about this, Captain Ankerkrone, Ulla and Captain Kurk came down. Ankerkrone greeted Holst with great warmth. Holst was struck by how tired and infirm he looked and he made a remark about it.
“No, I’m not at all well, my friend – the machinery isn’t working any more,” replied Ankerkrone with a weak smile.
Captain Kurk was very formal; Holst thought him almost unfriendly and found this totally unjustified, but he recalled that the man needed time to thaw out. He hadn’t been particularly forthcoming in Kristianstad either. Ulla was enchanting in a light silk dress with dark red roses that matched her pale complexion and dark hair. Holst looked admiringly at her and caught himself thinking that one woman at least would have fretted in silence if she had seen them together.
The experiences of the last few days and the spontaneous eroticism that exudes over the Queen of the Adriatic were having an irresistible effect on Holst, making him feel quite diffe
rently available and self-controlled towards the beautiful young women. He had to admit to himself that he was flirting outrageously with Ulla and the three elderly gentlemen were eyeing him with great attention. The district magistrate teased him slightly. Claes Ankerkrone had sent his apologies; he couldn’t come until after dinner.
It was apparent that Captain Ankerkrone didn’t know anything about the arrest, but Holst understood from a few words that Kurk let slip that Lieutenant Claes had acquainted him with the story. But it was only a couple of words. Otherwise there was no mention of this event and the atmosphere lightened significantly during the meal. Only Captain Kurk seemed dispirited and taciturn.
They took coffee on the hotel terrace. The evening was quiet and warm, though a light sea breeze was blowing over the lagoon. Holst and Ulla sat together and talked about summer in the Nordic countries and the green beech forests.
“Don’t you long for it?” Ulla asked.
“Well now,” he replied, “long for it – I wouldn’t call it that exactly. There are mysterious powers in the nature down here. Yes, I know that sounds strange, but it’s true. They talk about the great Goethe, about him coming to Venice and being seized by a strange mood, actually a spirit that cavorted in him, far different from the spirit of German speculative romantic poetry.”
Holst blushed.
“I’m no poet, not in the slightest, but I have the same feeling.”
Ulla smiled.
“You mean that when you, like young Werther, sat on the bench by the little lake up there, you wanted to escape when you saw me coming and now…”
Holst looked at her.
“How strange that your thoughts follow precisely the same track as mine – that’s exactly what I was thinking.”
Ulla blushed.
“…and now…?”
“Now I would like…”
Holst went silent. She looked at him with a strange, questioning look, and he felt a kind of trickling spring, deep inside, that spread through him.
Two people can meet in love with a glance for a short second and it happened here. There was no way back from such a meeting. It was as if little Jeannette had opened the gate for Holst to areas where he had never walked before, as if she had directed his path over flower-sprinkled fields towards the greater goal, and while his gaze rested on the beautiful young woman in front of him, with her blushing cheeks and her large, enquiring eyes, his lips whispered a thank you to little Jeanette, who had taught him more in one day than life had taught him in many years.