The Fire Dance (13 page)

When she was released, she decided to move back to Göteborg. She took over the mansion of her parents. To the surprise of everyone in our family, including me, Ernst agreed to move with her. To be blunt, he didn’t have much of a choice. She was the one with the real money. He’d have nothing at all and no place to live if it wasn’t for her. Otherwise, he’d have had to move back in with his sister, Elsy, and his now-all-but-senile father. Hilding died a few years later, and it was at his funeral that I saw Ernst for the first time after he’d left Stockholm for Göteborg. I also remember that he was happy about his situation in the mansion in the Änggården District. He told me that he had an
entire floor to himself, which he’d turned into various music rooms. His grand piano was the focal point in one room, and another room had become a recording studio
.

A few months later, I was in Göteborg on business and decided to pay Ernst a visit. Everything he told me about his living circumstances was true. Unfortunately, the rumors of Anna-Greta’s decline were also true. It was tragic to see the once great star turned into such a wreck of a human being in just a few years. One thing that the tabloids did not know was that she’d undergone an unsuccessful facelift. The operation wounds became infected, leaving ugly scars, and she’d also suffered nerve damage. Whenever she would eat or drink, the numbed nerve endings would prevent her from closing her mouth, so something was always dribbling out
.

She could not speak without slurring, a catastrophe for an actress. The plastic surgeon was one of the most famous in Stockholm, and he had to pay her a huge amount in damages to keep her from going to court. But what did it matter, when her beautiful features were gone forever?

She spent most of her days in a drug-induced torpor. Whenever she was awake, she rushed back into her fog as quickly as possible. When I saw them, Anna-Greta was deeply depressed
.

Ernst was his old self. He devoted himself to his music and, after encouragement from my sister Bettan, he hired a housekeeper to cook and clean. She was always called “Mrs. Larsson,” and I never was able to ascertain whether she even had a given name. This woman was a real treasure. She stayed with Ernst until his death in 2002. I believe she must have been seventy when she retired after he passed away
.

In 1977, we were shocked by another bombshell.
Ernst had met another woman—a twenty-year-old ballet dancer! And she was pregnant with his child! At the same time, I was wrestling with my own midlife crisis, and I may have been the only one in the family who halfway understood him. Once I saw a picture of beautiful Angelika, I understood him even better. I hadn’t seen Anna-Greta in over seven years, but I had no illusions that the intervening years had done anything to improve her sorry condition. Cousin Ernst had had enough and realized that life was too short to let the years fly by. Trying to save Anna-Greta was a hopeless project. To tell the truth, I don’t think he even tried. He was who he was. Ernst had always lived in his own little world; his music was the center of his life. He certainly would never be an ideal therapist for a woman with mental health issues and a drug problem
.

Ernst and I kept in closer contact during those years. I was usually the one to give him a call, but at times he called me, which he’d never done before. I was in the middle of a messy divorce and perhaps we both needed some support. Since Anna-Greta was so sick—and she certainly wasn’t going to get any better after she heard that Angelika was pregnant—Ernst had to endure a great deal of criticism for his actions. I believe, however, that for the first time in his life, Ernst was in love. He was able to handle all the accusations and stood fast in his decision to live with Angelika. Still, Ernst wouldn’t be Ernst if he didn’t have his own prerequisites
.

He’d moved in with Angelika, who had a tiny apartment in the Kortedala District. He got up every morning at six
A
.
M
., had his breakfast and then took the streetcar to his former residence. Like the rest of the Malmborg family, Ernst had never bothered to get a driver’s license. He would spend the entire day at Änggården
with his beloved grand piano, which obviously would never fit in the one-room apartment in Kortedala. So if the mountain could not come to Mohammed, Mohammed went to the mountain. “I have to work,” Ernst would tell Angelika, and though she was against this arrangement and had temperamental outbursts, she couldn’t come up with a better solution
.

Strangely enough, Anna-Greta did not attack Ernst with accusations when he was with her. She seemed to become calmer and more secure. She wouldn’t speak much with Ernst, but she would come into the room when he worked and sit down in a chair by the door. She would sit for hours without speaking, which didn’t disturb Ernst in the least. At times, she would doze off, but the main thing for her was just to be in his presence. Ernst would talk to me about this sometimes on the phone. He was grateful she’d not made a fuss
.

Angelika, however, was the exact opposite. She seemed to enjoy the spotlight and her prominence in the tabloids. She would go out of her way to get more publicity. Relatively quickly, it was apparent that she was much too young and intellectually unable to understand such a complicated person as Ernst. Although, to tell the truth, Ernst was simple enough. Just leave him alone with his music and he’d be perfectly content. Angelika’s desire to be out on the town and attending parties was something he didn’t understand. A few months before the child was born, I noticed that Ernst was spending more and more time at his former residence. He only called me up from
Ä
nggården, never from Angelika’s apartment
.

And that’s where he was when Angelika called him and said it was time to go to the maternity ward. She was on her way to Östra Hospital, so it was easy for
Ernst to hop on the streetcar for the hour-long ride there. He told me much later that he went to Anna-Greta and told her why he needed to leave. He said she looked at him and her expression showed her mind was clear. “So, it’s time,” she said, without a trace of her speech impediment. Ernst thought she meant it was time for the child’s birth and agitatedly replied that it was. Later, he realized she was speaking of her own suicide
.

So, at the same time Sophie was being born, Anna-Greta died. She took a huge handful of pills and washed them down with vodka. Then she put a plastic bag over her head. Apparently, her death was pain-free and peaceful. She fell asleep. I had to keep pointing this out to Ernst the next few days. He grieved for Anna-Greta although he was not plagued by any feelings of guilt. “Anna-Greta always used pills and alcohol to escape. Not me,” he said
.

His grief over Anna-Greta was tempered with his joy over Sophie. He was truly happy to have a daughter. At the same time, his relationship with Angelika began to improve now that Anna-Greta was out of the picture
.

Strangely, neither Ernst nor Anna-Greta had ever discussed getting a divorce. Anna-Greta had not written a will, and since he was her only heir, as her surviving spouse he inherited everything. But again, he had to face the torrent of criticism that he was responsible for her death. I have to agree with Ernst, who said, “Anna-Greta spent fifteen years killing herself slowly.” I encouraged him to accept his inheritance
.

Of course, Angelika did, too. Her cute little nose had sniffed out a heap of money. She had no compunctions at all about moving into the mansion and becoming Mrs. Malmborg the Second. Ernst had his doubts, however. Although he appeared unable to cope with
everyday reality, he was not an idiot. He’d realized a thing or two about Angelika. So, for the sake of his beloved daughter, he agreed to marriage, but not before Angelika signed a prenuptial agreement
.

Sophie had barely reached her first birthday when the marriage began to crumble. Ernst found out that Angelika had been having an affair with a French dancer. She denied it, but Ernst refused to be convinced. He knew by then that she could not be trusted. Six months later, she met that dimwit Magnus Eriksson and declared that she wanted a divorce. Ernst said that at that moment he had felt nothing but relief. He was also sad for Sophie’s sake, but decided to make sure that he would stay in the picture. I advised him to contact one of the best lawyers in Sweden, Antonio Bonetti, who was practicing in Göteborg
.

There was a bitter court fight. Angelika insisted that she did not understand what she was doing when she signed the prenuptial agreement. She demanded that she receive half of the property. Ernst would then receive sole custody of Sophie. Ernst may have agreed to go along with it, but the lawyer Bonetti pointed out that a child always has the right to custody by both parents. He demolished Angelika’s demands. The final judgment was split custody and not a single dime to Angelika. She was enraged, but there wasn’t much she could do about it
.

So things went along fine for a number of years after that. Angelika and her new husband lived on Linné-gatan. It only took a few minutes by streetcar for Sophie to go to Ernst in
Ä
nggården. The problems only really began again once that blockhead Eriksson gambled away all the money the family had. They were forced to leave their nice apartment and move to that shack in the
sticks—far from the big lights of the city. Sophie had to change schools, and things weren’t going well with the shared custody agreement. She couldn’t stay with Ernst every other week, as she wouldn’t be able to get to school. Finally, they worked out a situation where she spent every weekend with him. This is how things were up to the night of that fateful fire in
1989.

I remember each and every word Ernst said when he called me up and, not even greeting me, exclaimed, “They think she did it!”

At first I didn’t realize it was him. His voice was weak and trembling—not at all his usual calm demeanor
.

“Who are they? And who is she?” I asked
.

“The police! They think Sophie set fire to the house—on purpose!”

He was so upset, his voice failed him
.

Once I calmed him down, I managed to coax out the story of what happened. You probably know more about this aspect of it than I do, but according to Ernst, Sophie had been called to the police station repeatedly. Angelika had accompanied her, as well as someone from the Children’s Mental Health Department. Ernst was in despair. He had a long talk with his ex-wife for the first time since the divorce. According to her, the reason for the repeated questioning was that the house had caught fire shortly after Sophie had left it. Sophie refused to say a word. Ernst had said Sophie told him that she was not responsible for the fire
.

A few weeks later, Sophie moved in with Ernst and changed schools. She visited Angelika and Frej every other weekend. Angelika complained loudly about this new arrangement, but after a while, she noticed it was working for her, too. She no longer had any costs relating to Sophie. It could be that mother and daughter
were able to forge a better relationship via their mutual love of dance
.

I would see Ernst and Sophie at irregular intervals. A year or two could pass between visits. Our phone calls also became more sporadic. Ernst no longer had the same need to talk with me. He was content in his life with Sophie. As far as women went, he had a few long-term relationships, but he never lived with another woman again. Mrs. Larsson took care of his household and Sophie was there for companionship. Things were going fairly well
.

It must have been a shock for Sophie when she found out that Ernst was suffering from advanced colon cancer. He was doubtful of the outcome, but finally agreed to an operation. He refused any radiation or chemo treatments. “I can feel I’m close to the end, so there’s no need to add any extra suffering,” he told me
.

The operation went well, but Ernst could not accept that he had to wear a colostomy bag. He thought it was disgusting. Sophie learned how to take care of him. She and Mrs. Larsson took care of Ernst during the last months of his life. A district nurse came to help them and made sure he had his injections and medicine. Ernst passed away peacefully in his own home on Midsummer Day in 2002. Sophie and Mrs. Larsson were by his side
.

I went to the funeral, which was the last time I saw Sophie before that unfortunate evening last September at the Book Fair. I know you have my testimony regarding what happened that night. The last thing I remember about Sophie is how the ceiling lights made her black hair glisten as she walked toward the stairs. Then the elevator doors closed and I never saw her again
.

Neither Sophie nor her father were easy to understand. Still, I believe I knew them better than most. They weren’t aggressive people. They reacted the same way to conflicts: they pulled away
.

Both you and I must believe that Sophie’s murder is connected to the fire that she was suspected of setting fifteen years ago. Notice I write: “suspected of.” I believe wholeheartedly that she did not do it
.

Therefore, I see no logical reason for her to have been held captive and to be killed in cold blood because of it. It could be interpreted as punishment for the arson, but if she didn’t set the fire, there would be nothing to punish. Perhaps it will be shown that her murder had nothing to do with that fire after all
.

If you have any further questions, please contact me whenever you need to talk. I know that Viktor Borgsten has provided you with all my telephone numbers and addresses
.

Yours sincerely
,

Max Franke