The Dangerous Game (32 page)

‘I know that I talked to someone there a couple of times. It had to do with money that Agnes was owed, and photographs of her they wanted to send.’

‘Do you know who you talked to?’

‘Her name was Sara. I don’t remember her last name, but it’s in a folder I have at home. She was extremely pleasant. Nothing wrong with her.’

‘What about Agnes? Has she been in contact with the agency?’

‘Not that I know of.’ Karlström rubbed his chin. ‘Wait a minute. I was there when someone came to visit her, right after she was admitted to the clinic. She’d only been there a few days.’

‘Who was it?’

‘A photographer, I think. Dark hair. About thirty-five.’

Knutas and Wittberg exchanged glances.

Markus Sandberg.

AGNES’S FATHER HAD
asked her whether she wanted him to come over on New Year’s Eve, but she told him that he could celebrate with Katarina if he liked. She assured him that she really didn’t mind. She was always so tired and probably wouldn’t even stay up until midnight. And they’d already had such a nice time together at Christmas.

She’d felt a little guilty when Per told her that Katarina had come to the clinic on Christmas Eve. She hadn’t realized that her father’s girlfriend was so alone. And if there was one thing that Agnes understood, it was loneliness. That was the worst thing about anorexia. You lost all contact with other people.

Even though Agnes doesn’t really care for Katarina, she has decided to try to make an effort to be nice. Maybe that’s part of the process of getting well. Lately, she has noticed that things have begun to turn around, that she has been feeling a greater urge to get well. She still suffers from a hellish anxiety whenever she has to eat anything, and she can’t stop herself from exercising, but she doesn’t do it as much. She doesn’t cheat, or exercise as often, although the process hasn’t been totally smooth sailing. Sometimes she feels so panicked that she thinks she might fall to pieces.

She detests this sense of duplicity. On the one hand, she wants nothing more than to put on weight so that she can leave the clinic and start living again. On the other hand, that is exactly what scares her most.

The eating frenzy she experienced at home on Christmas Eve has increased her motivation to get well. She doesn’t want to live like that. She never wants to go through that sort of torment again. Yet the episode also reminded her that the anorexia is harming not only her but her father, too. She is all that he has. And Katarina, of course. She thinks it’s fine for them to celebrate the New Year together. If only for Pappa’s sake.

Besides, Per has said that even though he actually has the day off, he’s going to spend the evening with her. They’ll think of some way to celebrate.

He turns up right after lunch, looking cheerful and like he’d just stepped out of the shower. She is sitting on her bed listening to music when he sticks his head in the door. As luck would have it, Linda has moved out, so Agnes now has the room all to herself.

‘Hi. Can I come in?’

‘Sure.’

She’s suddenly nervous. What’s going on? Her despair after yesterday’s visit from Cecilia’s big sister, Malin, and Jenny Levin has faded. Now, she just feels ashamed at her outburst.

‘I’m sorry I was such a nuisance yesterday.’

‘That’s okay.’

‘Maybe I should ring Malin to apologize. I know she meant well.’

‘Of course.’

A shadow passes over his face.

‘But maybe not today,’ she adds. ‘I can call her tomorrow.’

Agnes would rather forget about the whole thing.

He looks relieved. It was hard on him, too, even though he’s used to outbursts from the patients. But something special seems to have developed between them lately. Agnes wonders if he has noticed it, too.

‘I thought we could go out for a walk, or rather I could push you in the wheelchair,’ he suggests.

‘Great.’

Agnes hasn’t been outdoors since she came back from Gotland. The daily walks have been cancelled between Christmas and New Year’s.

‘Just let me go to the loo.’

With an effort she gets up from the bed and stumbles into the bathroom. Now she’s annoyed that there is no mirror. She splashes water on her face, brushes her teeth, and pinches her cheeks, hoping to give them some colour.

The air is clear and cold. Per pushes the wheelchair through the slushy snow. Agnes is bundled up in two pairs of long underwear, several woollen jumpers, heavily lined thermal trousers, and a big white down jacket that makes her look like the Michelin man. On her head she has a Russian hat with ear flaps. It’s wonderful not to be freezing as she feels the fresh air biting at her cheeks. They head up the hill towards the centre of town. There are people everywhere, doing their last-minute shopping for New Year’s.

‘Would you like to see my place?’ he asks.

‘Okay.’

He pushes her in the chair over to a block of flats with a blue-painted façade. The stairwell smells a bit musty. The lift is modern and has plenty of space for the wheelchair. They go up to the sixth floor.

A long corridor with a series of doors. The third one has a sign on it with white plastic letters. ‘P. and M. Hermansson. No junk mail.’

Agnes is momentarily startled. Does Per live with someone?

‘Who is M?’ she ventures as he pushes the chair over the threshold.

‘M as in Mamma,’ said Per with a laugh. A dry, mirthless laugh. ‘Margareta, actually. My mother. But, sadly, she has passed away. So now I live here alone.’

Agnes is relieved, even though she feels sad on his behalf.

‘Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know your mother was dead.’

‘Cancer. She was a nurse in the infectious diseases clinic at the hospital. She was the one who got me the job on the ward.’

‘Was it just the two of you living here?’

‘No. I have a sister, but she moved away from home when she turned eighteen. She and my mother didn’t really get along.’

‘What about your father?’

‘My parents divorced when I was a kid. Would you like some coffee?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘It’s two o’clock. Time for your afternoon snack. The question is, what have I got in the kitchen?’

He parks the wheelchair in the hall and she gets up.

‘Shall I show you around first?’ he asks. ‘It’s not a big place, but …’

Now he seems almost shy. Agnes finds that endearing. The flat is nice and bright, with windows facing in two directions. Everything is neat and clean. Attractive, but a bit boring. Nothing very personal about it. They go through to the kitchen, which is completely ordinary, with grey cabinets. A pine table and four chairs stand next to the window, which has red curtains and a Christmas star made of straw with a red ribbon.

‘Do you recognize that?’

Agnes nods. He had pointed out the window from the ward, and she now sees the same star and red curtains.

Next to the kitchen is a small bedroom.

‘This is where I sleep,’ says Per. ‘This room is much smaller than the other one, but I can’t bring myself to sleep in Mamma’s room. Do you think that’s weird?’

‘No, not at all.’

The furniture in the living room looks like it’s from the seventies. Bookcases made of dark-stained pine with built-in lighting and a drinks cabinet. A sofa with brown-and-orange upholstery that has a rough texture to it. A coffee table with brass legs and a tinted-glass top.

They move on to look at a bigger bedroom that has been turned into a gym, with mirrors and several exercise machines.

‘This is my workout room,’ Per explains proudly. ‘I don’t really need much living space, and I like to work out. So, this way, I save having to pay for an expensive gym membership.’

‘Cool,’ says Agnes, not sure what else to say. ‘When did your mother die?’

‘Eight and a half months ago.’

‘Have you thought about getting a smaller flat?’

‘Yes, I have. But I feel comfortable here. I’ve lived here all my life. It’s my childhood home. And the rent is low. I pay the same for this two-bedroom as I would for a one-bedroom in the city. So I’d rather stay here. And, besides, it’s close to work.’

Per makes coffee and they eat a few crackers. It’s pleasant sitting there with him in the kitchen, looking out at the hospital. Being on the other side. On the healthy side.

That’s where she longs to be.

IT WAS 6 P.M.
by the time Knutas got back home after talking to Rikard Karlström. Wittberg was in a hurry to get to a New Year’s Eve party. As for Karin Jacobsson, it seemed she was spending the evening with Janne Widén. Knutas didn’t know why he felt so uncomfortable when he thought about that.

He’d tried several times to reach Signe Rudin, but she didn’t answer her mobile or her landline at home. When he rang the magazine, he got a recorded message wishing everyone a Happy New Year and telling him to ring again after the holiday. He realized there was nothing more he could accomplish, so he phoned Lina, who told him that they hadn’t yet sat down to dinner. The hosts were just about to offer their guests some champagne. Maybe he felt like toddling over there and spending a little time with his wife on New Year’s Eve?

Knutas realized that, if he hurried, he could get there before dinner was served. He took a quick shower and put on clean clothes. Then he got in the car and drove east. Just as he reached Ljugarn, his mobile rang. It was Signe Rudin.

‘Hi. I’m terribly sorry for not calling you back, but I’m visiting good friends in the Stockholm archipelago, and I left my mobile in the bedroom, and … Well, you know. I thought I should be able to leave the job behind, since it’s New Year’s Eve, and all. But I was planning to ring the police tomorrow morning.’

‘Oh, really? What’s on your mind?’ asked Knutas, forgetting for a moment why he’d been trying to call her.

‘The thing is, we received another letter.’

Knutas almost drove off the road.

‘When did it arrive?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘Just a minute.’

Knutas had to pull over and stop. Quickly, he got out his notebook and a pen. Annoyed that Signe hadn’t notified the police about the letter earlier, he said curtly, ‘What did it say?’

‘Just four words, like last time. But instead of saying “You are all killers,” it said, “I am a killer.”’

‘And was it the same as last time? I mean, words cut out of a magazine?’

‘Yes. And the type looked the same as before, so he must have used the same magazine.’

‘Who was it sent to?’

‘Fanny Nord. Just like last time. And the address was handwritten. No sender’s name.’

‘Anything else that was different from the first letter?’

‘No. The handwriting on the envelope looked the same. The same pen, too. The same kind of envelope.’

‘Where is the letter now?’

‘I have it here with me.’

‘Could you possibly scan the message and email me a jpeg image?’

‘Sure. No problem. My friends have their own business, so they have a lot of computer equipment.’

‘Scan the envelope, too.’

Knutas gave her his email address.

‘Before you go, I’d like to know one thing. Why did you phone Fashion for Life this morning and ask about Agnes Karlström?’

For a moment, Signe Rudin didn’t speak. She was clearly surprised by his question.

‘Well, I found out that, last year, Fanny was responsible for a photo shoot that ended up being a disaster because the model was too big. As a result, we couldn’t use any of the pictures. And it turned out that the model’s name was Agnes Karlström. The photographer was Markus Sandberg.’

Knutas leaned back and closed his eyes.

‘Okay,’ he said at last. ‘Email me those pictures as soon as you can.’

Then he turned the key in the ignition. Just beyond the next bend in the road was the house where the New Year’s party was in full swing, but Knutas turned the car around and drove back the way he had come.

NEW YEAR’S EVE
is turning out much better than Agnes could have imagined. There are only four other patients on the ward, and two of them are so ill they don’t feel like getting out of bed. Per has gone home to change his clothes while she takes a quick nap so she’ll be able to stay awake until the stroke of midnight. They have agreed to meet again at seven o’clock.

It almost feels like a date. Agnes has found a skirt and top that she hasn’t worn since coming to the clinic. Per has never seen her wear anything but tracksuit bottoms and a sweatshirt. He has decided that they should sit at a separate table from the other patients. Dinner is pasta with pork in a cream sauce, but Agnes hardly touches the food. It’s nice to be sitting here, and on this one evening she is allowed to do what she likes with the food. Her Widget is not in use on New Year’s Eve. Per has arranged for linen table napkins and candles.

‘You look so nice,’ he says, lowering his eyes.

‘Thanks,’ she says, embarrassed. ‘It feels great to wear something other than tracksuit bottoms and sweatshirts.’

She thinks Per looks very handsome. He is wearing a checked shirt. On his wrist she notices a silver chain she has never seen before.

‘Nice bracelet. Is it new?’

‘Yes, actually. It’s a New Year’s present.’

‘Oh. Who’s it from?’

‘Guess.’

Agnes gives him a hesitant look.

‘It’s not from a girl, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

Agnes changes the subject. She doesn’t know much about Per’s personal life but, clearly, he must have relatives, friends and others who care about him. She doesn’t want to seem nosy.

They talk about all sorts of things, avoiding any mention of her illness. Films they’ve seen, what they like to do in their free time. Per tells her that he used to work only part time while he was going to college, but last autumn he was offered a full-time position replacing someone who’d taken a leave of absence. So he decided to give up his studies. He found college boring, anyway, and he hadn’t been doing very well.

‘It was my mother who was always talking about me continuing my education,’ he says. ‘She thought I should make something of myself. And I can understand that. She was a nurse, after all. My sister started her studies before I did, even though she’s two years younger than me. So that really put the pressure on me.’