Closed Circles (Sandhamn Murders Book 2) (20 page)

S
UNDAY, THE THIRD WEEK

C
HAPTER
55

Thomas woke to an insistent knocking. He’d finally arrived at Harö late Saturday evening after spending all day at the police station reading interrogation reports. It was six in the evening when he’d given up.

Once he arrived, he had two sandwiches and a beer and then fell asleep so quickly it felt like someone had pressed an “Off” button. The glass of whisky on his nightstand sat untouched.

It was almost ten in the morning now, which meant he’d been out for over eleven hours.

The knocking continued, and someone called his name. It was a child’s voice. He pulled on some underwear and climbed down from the sleeping loft. When he opened the front door, he found Nora with Simon and Adam. Thomas looked at them in surprise.

“Hi, Thomas!” Simon said. He gave his godfather a big hug. Simon’s head barely reached Thomas’s waist.

Adam, four years older, considered himself too big to hug anyone. He nodded a greeting.

“What’s going on?” Thomas asked. He opened the door to let them in.

Nora’s face made it clear this was more than a friendly visit.

She gave an unhappy smile as she held out a bag from the Sandhamn bakery. It smelled like freshly baked bread.

“Mom said we should surprise you!” Simon scurried inside, underneath Thomas’s outstretched arm. “Do you have any juice? Especially orange juice? I don’t like that red stuff we get at day camp.”

Simon opened the refrigerator to see what he could find.

Thomas moved aside so Nora and Adam could come in.

“I’m sorry, Simon,” he said. “No juice. But how about a glass of milk? If you want to grow big and strong like me, you’ll have to drink a lot of milk.” He winked at the boys as he flexed his muscles. “Just let me get some clothes on,” he said. “You two can find something to drink while your mother and I have coffee.” He turned to Nora. “How did you get here from Sandhamn? Did you take the
Snurran
?”

He meant the fifteen-foot-long motorboat the Linde family used to get to beaches for swimming.

She nodded.

“I tied it up next to your Buster. I’ll start the coffee while you get dressed. I thought you would already be up. It’s not like you to sleep in.”

Thomas disappeared into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

He wondered what had happened. Nora’s red eyes made it obvious she’d been crying. It probably had something to do with that house. Maybe it would have been better if she’d never inherited it. Too late for that now.

Thomas could imagine how Henrik and his witch of a mother were leaning on Nora. He thought Henrik’s father, Harald, was a pretty decent guy. At the wedding so many years ago, they’d shared a bottle of whisky, and the alcohol had loosened him up. By the time dawn had begun to arrive, Harald had revealed a more human side. They’d shared interesting conversation about the Swedish national hockey team’s chances of becoming world champions again.

But Henrik’s mother was a real devil, and her son seemed blind to her faults.

Nora and Henrik had been married for over thirteen years now, and Thomas suspected Henrik always took his mother’s side over Nora’s. Henrik grew up an only child, extremely sheltered. He didn’t see how overbearing Monica could be, not to mention how she treated her daughter-in-law.

Thomas liked his own mother, but he would have said something if she’d ever treated Pernilla the way Monica treated Nora.

Thomas came out of the bathroom to find Nora had set the rolls on a plate on the table. The boys sat waiting to eat. The moment Thomas nodded, they launched into action.

Nora poured two cups of coffee.

“Boys,” Thomas said, “you can take your plates outside and sit in the sunshine if you’d like. Then you don’t have to hear our boring talk. OK?”

They ran outside at once. Thomas looked at Nora with compassion. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

Nora’s eyes filled with tears the moment he asked the question. She looked more distraught than she had in a long time.

What’s the deal?
Thomas thought to himself.
Wherever I go, women start crying.

He walked around the table and gave her a hug. Once she’d had a good cry, he offered her a paper towel to dry her eyes and blow her nose.

“What happened?” Thomas asked. “It’s Henrik, right? Did you have a fight?”

Nora nodded and blew her nose again.

“It was awful, the worst fight we’ve ever had. Henrik insists we sell Signe’s house. He said I was egotistical and thought only about myself.”

She paused to catch her breath.

“He said my sentimental streak shouldn’t keep him and the boys from living in a real house in the city. And then . . . he said . . .” She stopped for a minute and looked like a scolded puppy. “He said my behavior made him ashamed.”

“Why?”

“That couple from Switzerland came to look at the house yesterday. They acted like they’d already bought it. They showed no respect at all.”

Nora described the walk-through and what had happened afterward: how angry Henrik had looked as he stood in the kitchen and pounded the counter in absolute rage. Hurtful words had flown from his mouth, a stream of viciousness that seemed endless.

“How could he say such things to me? He’s never said anything like that before. I can’t understand why he demands we sell the house, even after we discussed renting it.”

Tears ran down her flushed face again.

“There, there,” Thomas said. He patted her shoulder in a vain attempt to comfort her. It didn’t seem to help much.

Nora tried to smile but failed. “I’m so sorry I woke you. I really needed someone to talk to. Henrik went into the city on the first morning ferry.”

“Do the boys know about it all?”

“No. I told them he got called in to the hospital. I had to tell them something.”

Thomas fought an irrational impulse to call Henrik and give him an earful. Nora had suffered so much this past year. He knew they’d had troubles in their relationship, but Thomas thought they’d worked things out after what had happened on Grönskär. Why Henrik pressed her so hard now he didn’t understand. But he said nothing. He needed to help Nora calm down. It wouldn’t help to get angry, especially not with the boys around.

He handed Nora another paper towel.

“You won’t have anything left to clean up messes if I keep going like this.”

“It’s nothing to worry about. You know, Nora, maybe it’s good that Henrik left for the day. When he’s had the chance to calm down, he’ll see he overreacted.”

“Do you think so?”

“He can’t force a sale if you refuse. You know that. And he loves you. In the heat of the moment, people sometimes say things they don’t mean.”

“I hope so.” Nora’s voice trembled.

She pushed the reddish-blond strands of hair from her face and wiped her eyes again. They were swollen, but she looked more hopeful than when she’d come.

She rolled up the sleeves of her pale-blue sweater and blew her nose one last time.

“We both know how Henrik is,” Thomas said. “He can be hotheaded, but he would never want to hurt you.”

Thomas wasn’t certain those words were true. Henrik had an egotistical side Thomas also saw in Monica Linde. But now wasn’t the time to add another stone to Nora’s burden.

“Take your mind off things, Nora. Get a little perspective. Things will work out. Henrik will come to his senses.” Thomas hugged her again.

Nora did her best to pull herself together.

“So I’m not a selfish monster? It’s not all my fault? One day the boys might like a house in Sandhamn. I’m thinking of their future, too.”

She took another sip of coffee before she continued.

“Just thinking of those pretentious Swiss people makes my blood boil. I can’t imagine seeing
them
through my kitchen window every day!”

“Are they really that bad?”

“They are! There’s not enough money in the world to make me deal with them!”

Nora was a fighter, no doubt about that. She’d get through this, too, Thomas thought.

“You’ve been incredibly kind,” Nora said. “I woke up so unhappy this morning, but I knew I could talk to you.”

She looked down at the kitchen table, noticing she’d been tracing figure eights with her finger. Then she glanced at the clock and stood up.

“I should see what the boys are up to. We’ve been talking for a while.”

Her voice sounded stronger now, shedding the last trace of her melancholy.

“I’ll sort this whole thing out. Everything can be handled, right?”

C
HAPTER
56

As usual, Henrik found the gate to his childhood home unlocked. He drove up the familiar gravel road. After the first hundred yards, the landscape opened up and the pine forest gave way to a large lawn dotted with apple trees.

His parents’ summerhouse sat slightly to one side, near the water. Henrik had spent every summer here since he was small. His paternal grandfather had bought the property in the forties. He’d wanted a summer place to share with children, grandchildren, and guests. In those days, summerhouses on Ingarö were unusual. The spot became popular later on.

The building burned down in the late seventies when some people broke in to spend the night and fell asleep with candles burning. They’d probably been trying to keep warm. Henrik was only a boy then, but he remembered how distressed his grandparents had been. His grandfather mourned the house as if it were a living thing.

They soon built a new house with modern facilities, including an indoor bathroom. They also enlarged the kitchen and added a dishwasher, to his grandmother’s delight.

Within a few years, however, his grandparents passed away and left the summerhouse to Henrik’s father. When his father was stationed abroad, Monica and Henrik spent their summers on Ingarö. Henrik had made Swedish friends, including Johan Wrede, who still raced in sailing competitions with him.

He’d been given his first boat here. A little daysailer. It was later replaced by a Laser, which was replaced by a larger Flying Dutchman with a dark-blue hull.

Near the end of his teenage years, he took part in a competition with a friend and the friend’s father, who sailed a six-meter. The race hooked him, and he convinced his father to buy him a six-meter, too. He and Johan, with other friends crewing, kept sailing. Sixth place in the European Masters was their all-time best.

Sailing remained his favorite occupation. Nothing could top the feeling of the bow striking through water. That was why he kept on sailing, even as an adult with a demanding job and family.

The thought of Nora darkened his mood. He sighed deeply as he parked next to his parents’ Audi.

She’d been impossible last night. First, she sulked for hours. Then, once the boys were in bed, she accused him of being money hungry and inconsiderate.

Henrik had tried his best to stay calm. He hated it when Nora got so emotional. It always ended in tears and bitter words between them. But he couldn’t keep quiet, and finally he’d let it all out.

Why in the world did she feel any loyalty toward Signe, and why would she put that above her own family’s well-being? If they sold the Brand house, the boys could grow up in a proper home. They’d have a leg up in life.

Nora always underestimated the importance of raising children in the right environment. You met people in your childhood who became lifelong friends.

He, for one, knew how important that was. He’d seen his father move in diplomatic circles where success revolved around personal relationships. You have to know the right people, or you get left behind. In this big, bad world, social connections counted.

One of his father’s friends, a professor at Danderyd Hospital, had put in a good word for Henrik. Without that help, he would have had to wait much longer for a permanent position. His boys shouldn’t miss out on opportunities because they lived in that pathetic little town house.

But when he tried to explain all this to Nora, his words fell on deaf ears.

“How selfish can you be?” he’d yelled at her. “Can’t you think about someone besides yourself for once? What kind of a mother are you?”

They’d stood at either end of the kitchen table, like roosters in a cockfight, as vicious words flew through the air.

When she began crying, he didn’t care.

“I can’t believe how you behaved in front of the real-estate agent! I’m ashamed of you! Standing there sighing and carrying on. You could have at least acted like a reasonable human being!”

He was exhausted by the time they finally went to bed. He fell into an immediate but restless sleep. When he woke six hours later, he decided to leave. He couldn’t deal with her outbursts. Perhaps if he left for a few days, she’d come to her senses.

He took the overnight case he’d quickly packed out of the trunk.

His mother appeared before he’d reached the front door.

“Henrik, my dear boy!” She kissed him on both cheeks.

“Hi, Mom.”

He stepped inside, carrying his suitcase.

“I have coffee ready. Sit down and I’ll bring everything. Have you eaten? Do you want a sandwich?”

Her mouth didn’t stop moving, and her hands fluttered in small, well-meaning gestures, fast as a hummingbird as she circled her son.

“How are you, my sweet boy? I’m so glad you came so I can spoil you for a while. I really can’t understand Nora. She’s so . . . so . . .” She tried to find the word. “She’s so irrational. Yes, that’s it. And selfish. She only thinks of herself.”

Henrik had phoned his mother earlier to tell her he was coming. He’d given her a brief explanation about what had happened between him and Nora. As always, she took his side without reservation. Of course he’d be welcome to spend a few days at Ingarö to rest up.

Henrik walked into the living room and relaxed on the striped sofa. He’d always found this room pleasant. It faced southwest and was often filled with light and sun. In addition to the oversize sofa, the room held two comfortable armchairs with matching footstools.

As his mother puttered around the kitchen, he turned on the TV. His mother carried a tray into the room.

“You don’t need that on, Henrik,” she said. “Your father leaves the TV on constantly these days. On and on without a break.”

“Where is Dad, by the way?” Henrik asked. He kept his eyes on the screen.

“He’s at the neighbors’. He’ll be back soon. In the meantime, let’s have a little chat.”

His mother set two cups on the table and handed him a plate with several liver pâté and cheese sandwiches.

“Help yourself,” she said. “I’ll get the sugar and be right back.”

She returned to the kitchen and Henrik took a bite of a sandwich while surfing through channels. When his mother came back, he turned the TV off to please her.

“Now tell me all about it, my son,” Monica Linde said. She looked at him tenderly and held out a plate of cookies. “Tell me how things are really going.”