The Drowning (55 page)

‘I don’t know. But I’m sure that Christian’s foster parents could answer those questions.’

‘So Erik, Kenneth, and Magnus raped Alice while Christian watched. Why didn’t he try to stop them? Why didn’t he help her? Is that why he got those threatening letters, even though he didn’t participate in the assault?’

Some of the colour had returned to Patrik’s face, and he took a deep breath before he went on:

‘Alice is the only one who had any reason to seek revenge, but she can’t be the one who did it. We also don’t know who’s to blame for this.’ He shoved a stack of papers over to Erica. ‘Here’s all the documentation from the investigation into the murders of Maria and Emil. They were drowned in their own bathtub. Someone held a one-year-old boy under the water until he stopped breathing, and then did the same thing with his mother.
The only clue the police had was that a neighbour saw a woman with long dark hair leaving the flat. But as I said, it couldn’t have been Alice, and I don’t think it was Iréne either, even though she would also have a motive for doing such a thing. So who the hell was that woman?’ He pounded his fist on the table out of sheer frustration.

Erica waited for him to calm down. Then she said quietly:

‘I think I know. And I think I can prove it to you.’

Erik carefully brushed his teeth, put on his suit, and meticulously knotted his tie. Then he combed his hair and finished by ruffling it a bit with his fingers. He looked at himself in the mirror with satisfaction. He was a handsome and successful man who had his life under control.

He picked up his suitcase in one hand and his carry-on bag in the other. The plane ticket had been left for him at the front desk and was now securely stowed in his jacket pocket along with his passport. He took one last look in the mirror and then left the hotel room. He’d have time for a beer at the airport before boarding the plane. He could sit there in peace and quiet, watching all the Swedes rushing about, knowing that soon he would no longer have to deal with them. He’d never been especially fond of the Swedish temperament. Too much group thinking, too much talk about how everything had to be fair. Life wasn’t fair. Some people had better qualities than others. And in another country, he would have a good chance of taking advantage of those qualities.

He would soon be on his way. His fear of her was something that he pushed aside, burying it deep in his subconscious. Soon it wouldn’t matter. She would never be able to find him.

‘How do we get inside?’ asked Patrik as they stood at the door of the boathouse. Erica hadn’t wanted to say anything more about what she knew or suspected. She just insisted that he come with her.

‘I picked up the keys from Sanna,’ said Erica, taking a big key ring out of her purse.

Patrik smiled. Erica was nothing if not resourceful.

‘What are we looking for?’ he asked as he followed his wife into the small building.

She didn’t answer his question directly, but said, ‘This is the only place I could think of that Christian had all to himself.’

‘Doesn’t the boathouse belong to Sanna?’ Patrik asked, blinking his eyes to get used to the dim lighting.

‘On paper, yes. But this was where Christian always retreated in order to be alone and to write. I think he must have considered it his private refuge.’

‘And?’ said Patrik, sitting down on the narrow sofa next to the wall. He was so tired that his legs could barely hold him up any longer.

‘I don’t know.’ Erica looked around uncertainly. ‘I just thought that …’

‘What did you think?’ said Patrik. The boathouse wasn’t much of a hiding place, no matter what they were looking for. It consisted of two miniscule rooms, and the ceiling was so low that Patrik had to stoop. The place was filled with old fishing gear, and over by the window stood a worn drop-leaf table. Anyone who sat there would have a magnificent view of the Fjällbacka archipelago. And of Badholmen.

‘I hope we find out soon,’ said Patrik as he stared at the diving tower, a looming black shape against the sky.

‘Find out what?’ Erica was aimlessly roaming about in the cramped space.

‘Whether it was murder or suicide.’

‘You mean Christian?’ said Erica, but she didn’t wait for his answer. ‘If only I could find … damn it, I thought … then we’d be able to …’ She was muttering incoherently, and Patrik couldn’t help laughing at her.

‘You look like you’re really confused. Can’t you at least tell me what we’re looking for? Then maybe I could help.’

‘I think that Magnus was murdered here. And I was hoping I could find something …’ She scrutinized the rough, blue-painted wooden walls.

‘Here?’ Patrik got up and began studying the walls too. Then he looked at the floor and after a moment he said:

‘The rug.’

‘What do you mean? It’s perfectly clean.’

‘Exactly. It’s too clean. In fact, it looks brand-new. Here, help me lift it up.’ He grabbed hold of one end of the heavy rag rug. With an effort Erica picked up the other end.

‘Oh, sorry, sweetheart. It might be too heavy for you. Don’t strain yourself,’ said Patrik with concern as he heard his very pregnant wife puffing.

‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Come on, let’s do it instead of standing here chattering.’

They moved the rug aside and looked at the wooden floorboards underneath. They looked very clean.

‘Maybe in the other room?’ said Erica. But when they glanced inside, they saw a floor that was equally clean, and without any rug on top.

‘I wonder if …’

‘What?’ asked Erica, but Patrik didn’t answer. Instead, he knelt down on the floor and began examining the cracks between the floorboards. After a moment he stood up.

‘We need to get the tech guys over here and then wait for their results. But I think you’re right. The place has been meticulously cleaned, but it looks like blood ran down between the planks.’

‘If that’s true, shouldn’t the planks have soaked up some of the blood too?’ said Erica.

‘Yes, but that would be hard to see with the naked eye if someone scrubbed the floor afterwards.’ Patrik squinted at the old planks, which were discoloured with age in numerous places.

‘So he died here?’ Even though Erica had been sure of her theory, she could still feel her heart beating faster.

‘Yes, I think so. And this place is close to the water, where the body could be dumped. So now will you tell me what’s going on?’

‘Let’s take another look around first,’ she said, ignoring the look of frustration on Patrik’s face. ‘Go and check up there.’ She pointed to the attic above them. The only access was by means of a rope ladder.

‘Are you kidding?’

‘It’s either you or me.’ And Erica demonstratively placed her hands on her huge stomach.

‘Okay,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I suppose it’s easy enough to climb up there. And I assume you’re still not going to tell me what I’m looking for, right?’

‘I’m not really sure,’ said Erica truthfully. ‘I just have a feeling that …’

‘A feeling? I’m supposed to climb up a rope ladder because of a feeling?’

‘Just do it.’

Patrik went up the ladder and crawled inside the attic.

‘Do you see anything?’ called Erica, craning her neck.

‘Of course I see something. But it’s mostly old blankets, rags, and a few comic books. It looks like the kids’ cubbyhole.’

‘Nothing else?’ said Erica, feeling discouraged.

‘No, it doesn’t look like it.’

Patrik began coming back down the rope ladder but then stopped midway.

‘What’s in there?’

‘Where?’

‘In there.’ He was pointing to a hatch door right next to the opening to the attic.

‘That’s usually where people store their junk in boathouses, but let’s check.’

‘Okay, take it easy. I’ll do it.’ He tried to balance on the ladder as he used one hand to jiggle the hasp loose. He could see that it was possible to lift away the entire hatch door, so he gripped one side of it, pulled it off, and handed it to Erica below. Then he turned to look inside.

‘What the hell?’ he said in surprise.

Suddenly the hooks that attached the ladder to the ceiling gave way, and with a crash Patrik fell to the floor.

Louise filled a wine glass with mineral water, then raised it to drink a toast. It would soon be all over for him. The police officer she’d spoken to had understood immediately what was going on. And he’d told her that they would be taking prompt action. He had also thanked her for ringing. ‘You’re very welcome,’ she had replied. ‘It was my pleasure.’

I wonder what they’ll do with him? she mused. The idea hadn’t really occurred to Louise until now. Her only thought was to stop him, prevent him from fleeing like a cowardly brute with his tail between his legs. But what would happen if Erik was sent to prison? Would she still get back all the money? She started feeling anxious, but then calmed down. Of course she’d get the money back. And she planned to thoroughly enjoy spending every öre of it. He would sit there in his prison cell, knowing that she was using up all of his – and her – money. And he wouldn’t be able to do shit about it.

Suddenly she made up her mind. She wanted to see
his expression. She wanted to see how he looked when he realized it was all over.

‘I’ve seen a lot in my day, but this … this takes the cake,’ said Torbjörn. He was standing on the ladder that they’d borrowed from the boathouse next door.

‘It really does beat all,’ said Patrik, rubbing the small of his back, which he’d hit hard when he fell. His chest was aching a bit too.

‘There’s no doubt that it’s blood, at any rate. And a lot of it.’ Torbjörn pointed at the floor, which now had an odd sheen to it. The luminol revealed all traces of blood, no matter how much the surface had been scrubbed. ‘We’ve taken a few samples that the lab should be able to match with the victim’s blood.’

‘Good. Thanks.’

‘So these things belong to Christian Thydell?’ said Torbjörn. ‘The man we cut down from the diving tower?’ He crawled into the small space, and Patrik cautiously climbed up the ladder to join him.

‘That’s what it looks like.’

‘But why …?’ Torbjörn began but then stopped himself. This wasn’t his case. His task was to secure the technical evidence, and with time he’d have all the answers. He pointed.

‘Is this the letter you were talking about?’

‘Yes. At least it proves that his death was definitely a suicide.’

‘It certainly does,’ said Torbjörn, although he still couldn’t believe his eyes. The whole space was filled with female belongings. Clothes, make-up, jewellery, shoes. And a wig with long, dark hair.

‘We’re going to bring everything in. It’ll take a while to collect it all.’ Torbjörn carefully backed up until he reached the edge of the hatch and could lower his feet
to follow Patrik down the ladder. ‘I’ve seen a lot of things in my day …’ he muttered again.

‘I’m going back to the station. There are a number of matters I need to review before I can present my report to everyone,’ said Patrik. ‘Give me a ring later, after you’ve finished here.’ He turned to Paula, who was intently watching the crime techs as they worked.

‘Are you staying here?’

‘Absolutely,’ she said.

Patrik left the boathouse and took a deep breath of the fresh sea air outdoors. After they found Christian’s hiding place, Erica had told him more of the story. Combined with the letter they’d found, the pieces of the puzzle were now falling into place, one by one. It was incomprehensible, but he knew that it was true. He understood everything now. And when Gösta and Martin came back from Göteborg, he’d be able to explain the whole sad tale to his colleagues.

‘It’s almost two hours until the plane takes off. We didn’t really need to get here so early.’ Martin glanced at his watch as they approached Landvetter airport.

‘I don’t think we need to just sit on our tails and wait for him,’ said Gösta as he turned into the car park outside the international terminal. ‘Let’s go in and take a look around, and if we find him, we nab the son-of-a-bitch.’

‘Shouldn’t we wait for backup from Göteborg?’ asked Martin. It always made him anxious if things weren’t done by the book.

‘You and I can easily handle this guy,’ said Gösta.

‘Okay,’ said Martin doubtfully.

They climbed out of the car and went inside the airport.

‘So, how should we do this?’ Martin glanced around the terminal.

‘How about a cup of coffee? We can survey the scene at the same time.’

‘But shouldn’t we walk around and look for Erik?’

‘What did I just say?’ said Gösta. ‘We can keep an eye out for him at the same time. If we sit over there,’ and he pointed to a coffee stand in the middle of the departure hall, ‘we’ll have an excellent view in both directions. He’ll have to walk past us when he gets here.’

‘Okay, you’re right about that.’ Martin relented. He knew there was no use arguing once Gösta had set his mind on having a cup of coffee.

They each bought coffee and an almond cake. Then they sat down at a table. Gösta beamed as he took his first bite.

‘This is food for the soul.’

Martin didn’t bother to point out that an almond cake didn’t really qualify as food. But he couldn’t deny that it was delicious. He had just stuffed the last piece in his mouth when he caught sight of someone out of the corner of his eye.

‘Look, isn’t that him?’

Gösta quickly turned around.

‘Yup. You’re right. Come on, let’s bring him in.’ He stood up with unusual speed, and Martin jumped up to follow. Erik was walking away at a good clip, with a carry-on bag in one hand and a big suitcase in the other. He was impeccably dressed in a suit and tie with a white shirt.

Gösta and Martin had to jog to catch up with him. Since Gösta had been the first to get up from the table, he reached Erik first, clapping a hand on the man’s shoulder.

‘Erik Lind? We’re going to have to ask you to come with us.’

Erik turned around with a look of surprise on his face. For a second he seemed to consider running, but he settled for shaking off Gösta’s hand.

‘There must be some sort of misunderstanding. I’m leaving on a business trip,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what this is about, but I have a plane to catch. I’m going to an important meeting.’ Beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead.