Authors: Camilla Läckberg
The Gallows Bird
CAMILLA LACKBERG
The Gallows Bird
Translated by Steven T. Murray
To Wille & Meja
Contents
What he remembered most was her perfume. The one she kept in the bathroom. That shiny lavender bottle with the sweet, heavy fragrance. As an adult he had searched in a perfume shop until he found the exact same one. He had chuckled when he saw the name: ‘Poison’.
She used to spray it on her wrists and then rub it on her throat and, if she was wearing a skirt, on her ankles too.
He thought that was so beautiful. Her fragile, delicate wrists gracefully rubbing against each other. The scent spread through the space around her, and he always longed for the moment when it came really close, when she leaned over and kissed him. Always on the mouth. Always so lightly that sometimes he wondered if the kiss was real or if he was just dreaming.
‘Take care of your sister,’ she always said before she left, seeming to float rather than walk out the door.
Afterwards he could never remember if he had answered out loud or only nodded.
The springtime sun shone in through the windows at the Tanumshede police station, mercilessly exposing the dirt on the windowpanes. The winter grime lay like a film over the glass, and Patrik felt as though the same film were covering him. It had been a hard winter. Life with a child in the house was infinitely more fun but also infinitely more work than he ever could have imagined. And even though things were going much more smoothly with Maja than they had in the beginning, Erica was still not used to the life of a stay-at-home mum. This knowledge tormented Patrik every second and every minute he spent at work. And everything that had happened with Anna had placed an extra burden on their shoulders.
A knock on the door-jamb interrupted his gloomy thoughts.
‘Patrik? We just got a call about a traffic accident. A single car on the road to Sannäs.’
‘Okay,’ said Patrik, getting up. ‘By the way, isn’t this the day that Ernst’s replacement is arriving?’
‘Yes,’ said Annika. ‘But it’s not quite eight yet.’
‘Then I’ll take Martin with me. Otherwise I thought I’d have her ride with me for a while until she gets the hang of things.’
‘Well, I do feel a bit sorry for the poor woman,’ said Annika.
‘Because she has to ride with me?’ said Patrik, pretending to take offence.
‘Naturally. I know the way you drive . . . But seriously, it’s not going to be easy for her with Mellberg.’
‘After reading her CV I’d say that if anyone can handle him, it would be Hanna Kruse. Seems to be a tough cookie, judging by her service record and the great references.’
‘The only thing that seems fishy to me is why she would want to apply to Tanumshede.’
‘Yes, you may have a point there,’ said Patrik, pulling on his jacket. ‘I’ll have to ask her why she wants to sink so low as to work in this career blind alley with us law-enforcement amateurs.’ He winked at Annika, who slapped him lightly on the shoulder.
‘You know that wasn’t what I meant.’
‘Sure, I was just giving you a hard time. By the way, have you got any more information about the accident site? Any injuries? Fatalities?’
‘According to the person who called it in, there seems to be only one person in the car. Dead.’
‘Damn. I’ll get Martin and we’ll ride out there to have a look. We’ll be back soon. You can show Hanna around in the meantime, can’t you?’
At that moment they heard a woman’s voice from the reception area. ‘Hello?’
‘That must be her now,’ said Annika, hurrying off towards the door. Curious about the new female addition to the force, Patrik followed her.
He was surprised when he saw the woman standing in reception waiting for them. He wasn’t sure just what he’d expected, but someone . . . larger, perhaps. And not quite so good-looking . . . and blonde.
She held out her hand first to Patrik and then to Annika and said, ‘Hello, I’m Hanna Kruse. I’m starting here today.’
Her voice more than lived up to his expectations. Rather deep, with a resolute tone to it.
Her handshake testified to many hours in the gym, and Patrik again revised his first impression.
‘Patrik Hedström. And this is Annika Jansson, the backbone of the station.’
Hanna smiled. ‘The sole female outpost in the land of males here, I understand. Till now, at least.’
Annika laughed. ‘Yes, I have to admit it feels good to have a counterbalance to all the testosterone inside these walls.’
Patrik interrupted their banter. ‘You girls can get acquainted with each other later. Hanna, we have a call about a single-car accident with a fatality. I thought you should come along with me right now, if that’s okay with you. Get a jump start on your first day here.’
‘Works for me,’ said Hanna. ‘Can I just leave my bag somewhere?’
‘I’ll put it in your office,’ said Annika. ‘We can do the tour later.’
‘Thanks,’ said Hanna, hurrying after Patrik, who was already heading out the main door.
‘So, how does it feel?’ Patrik asked after they’d got in the police car and headed off in the direction of Sannäs.
‘Fine, thanks. It’s always a little nerve-wracking to start a new job.’
‘You’ve already managed to move around quite a bit, judging by your CV.’
‘Yes, I wanted to pick up as much experience as possible,’ Hanna said as she gazed out of the window with curiosity. ‘Different parts of Sweden, different-sized service areas, you name it. Anything that can broaden my experience as a police officer.’
‘But why? What’s your ultimate goal, so to speak?’ Hanna smiled. Her smile was friendly but at the same time staunchly determined. ‘A position as chief, of course. In one of the larger police districts. So I’ve been taking all sorts of courses, learning as much as possible and working as hard as I can.’
‘Sounds like a recipe for success,’ said Patrik with a smile, but the enormous sense of ambition radiating towards him also made him feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t something he was used to.
‘I hope so,’ said Hanna, still watching the countryside passing by. ‘And what about you? How long have you worked in Tanumshede?’
To his chagrin Patrik heard himself sounding a bit ashamed when he replied. ‘Oh . . . ever since police academy, actually.’
‘Ooh, I never could have managed that. I mean, you must really enjoy it. That’s a good omen for my time here.’ She laughed and turned to look at him.
‘Well, I suppose you could think of it that way. But a lot of it has to do with habit and my comfort zone too. I grew up here, and I know the area like the back of my hand. Although I actually don’t live in Tanumshede anymore. Now I live in Fjällbacka.’
‘That’s right, I heard you were married to Erica Falck! I love her books! Well, the ones about murders, that is; I haven’t read the biographies, I have to admit.’
‘You don’t have to be ashamed about that. Half of Sweden has read the latest crime novel, judging by the sales figures, but most people don’t even know that she published five biographies of Swedish women writers. The one that sold best was about Karin Boye, and I think it got up to around two thousand copies. Anyway, we aren’t married yet – but we will be soon. We’re getting married on Whitsun Eve!’
‘Oh, congratulations! How lovely to have a Whitsuntide wedding.’
‘Well, we hope so. Although to be honest, at this point I’d rather fly off to Las Vegas and get away from all the hullabaloo. I had no idea it was such an undertaking to plan a wedding.’
Hanna gave a hearty laugh. ‘Yes, I can imagine.’
‘But you’re married too, I saw in your file. Didn’t you have a big church wedding?’
A dark shadow passed over Hanna’s face. She turned away and mumbled so faintly he could barely hear her: ‘We had a civil wedding. But that’s a story for some other time. It looks like we’re here.’
Up ahead they saw a wrecked car in the ditch. Two firemen were busy cutting through the roof, but they were in no hurry. After a look in the front seat Patrik understood why.
It was not by chance that the town council were meeting in his own home rather than the community centre. After months of intense remodelling, at a cost of two million kronor, the house was ready to be inspected and admired. It was one of the oldest and largest houses in Grebbestad, and it had taken a good deal of persuasion to get the previous owners to sell. Their protests about how it ‘belonged in the family’ had soon subsided when he raised the offer. It never even occurred to them that he had offered considerably less than he would have been willing to pay.
‘As you can see, we took great pains to respect the integrity of the place. In fact the photographer sent by
Residence
said he’d never seen such a tasteful renovation. If anyone missed last month’s issue, we have a few extra copies – do help yourself on the way out, then you can leaf through it at your leisure.’
Ushering his guests into the dining room, Erling W. Larson pointed to the large dining-room table that was set for coffee. ‘Let’s get down to business, shall we.’ His wife had made all the arrangements while he was showing the house, and now she stood silently by the table waiting for them to sit down. Erling gave her an appreciative nod. She was worth her weight in gold, that Viveca; a bit quiet perhaps, but better a woman who knew when to keep her mouth shut than a chatterbox.
‘Well, you know where I stand,’ said Uno Brorsson, dropping four sugar cubes into his cup. Erling regarded him with distaste. He didn’t understand men who neglected their health. For his part he jogged ten kilometres every morning and had also had some discreet work done. But only Viveca knew about that.
‘We certainly do,’ said Erling, a hint more sharply than he’d intended. ‘But there’s no point debating the matter now that an agreement has been reached. The TV team will be arriving shortly, so let’s be reasonable and make the best of things, eh? Just look at the boost Åmål got from the seasons they filmed there, and that was nothing compared with the publicity generated by
Sodding Töreboda.
Over the coming weeks, the whole country will be sitting down to watch
Sodding Tanum.
What a unique opportunity for us to show off our little corner of Sweden from its best side!’
