The Hidden Child (25 page)

‘Oh, I forgot to tell you: Karin phoned. You have a date to meet for a walk at ten o’clock. At the pharmacy.’

Patrik stopped in mid-stride. ‘Karin? Today? In’ – he glanced at his watch – ‘half an hour?’

‘Sorry,’ said Erica, although her tone of voice indicated that she wasn’t the least bit sorry. Then she relented. ‘I was thinking of running over to the library to do some research, so if you and Maja could be ready in twenty minutes, you can catch a ride with me.’

‘Is that . . .’ Patrik hesitated. ‘Is that all right with you?’

Erica went over and gave him a kiss. ‘Compared with using a police station as a day-care centre for our daughter, a date to take a walk with your ex-wife is nothing.’

‘Ha, ha, very funny,’ said Patrik sullenly, even though he knew Erica was right. What he’d done yesterday was pretty stupid.

‘So don’t just stand there! Go and get dressed! I would definitely object if you went off to meet your ex-wife looking like that.’ Erica laughed, looking her husband up and down as he stood in the bedroom, clad only in his underwear and a pair of tube socks.

‘What, I don’t look hunky enough like this?’ said Patrik, striking a bodybuilder pose. Erica laughed so hard she had to sit down on the bed.

‘Oh, God, stop it.’

‘For your information,’ said Patrik, pretending to be insulted, ‘I’m so disgustingly buff that I have a hard time achieving this look, but it’s important to lull the crooks into a false sense of security.’ He patted his stomach, which quivered a bit more that it should have if he’d touched nothing but muscle. Marriage hadn’t made his waistline dwindle to any significant degree.

‘Stop!’ hooted Erica. ‘I’ll never be able to have sex with you again if you don’t stop it.’ Patrik responded by flinging himself on the bed with his best beast-like howl as he started tickling her.

‘Take that back! Are you going to take that back? Are you?’

‘Yes, yes, I take it back! Now stop!’ cried Erica, who was terribly ticklish.

‘Mamma! Pappa!’ Maja was standing in the doorway, clapping her hands delightedly at the show. She’d been enticed out of her room by all the interesting sounds coming from her parents’ room.

‘Come over here and let Pappa tickle you too,’ said Patrik, lifting Maja on to the bed. The next second both mother and daughter were howling with laughter. Afterwards all three of them lay on the bed, drained and snuggled up next to each other, until Erica abruptly sat up. ‘The two of you better hurry. I can dress Maja while you make yourself decent.’

Twenty minutes later Erica pulled up in front of the municipal building, which also housed the pharmacy and library. This would be the first time she’d met Karin, even though she’d heard a fair bit about her, of course. She wasn’t sure what to expect; Patrik had been rather tight-lipped when it came to the subject of his first marriage.

She parked the car, helped Patrik lift the pushchair out of the boot, and then went with him to meet Karin. Taking a deep breath, she held out her hand.

‘Hi, I’m Erica,’ she said. ‘We spoke on the phone yesterday.’

‘How nice to meet you!’ said Karin, and Erica realized to her surprise that she instantly liked this woman standing in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw how uncomfortable Patrik looked, rocking back and forth, and she couldn’t help enjoying the situation. It was actually quite funny.

She studied his ex-wife with curiosity. Karin was thinner than she was and a bit shorter. Her dark hair was gathered up in a simple ponytail. She had delicate features, wore no make-up, and looked rather . . . tired. No doubt from taking care of a toddler, thought Erica, realizing that she herself wouldn’t have stood up to close inspection before they’d managed to get Maja to sleep through the night.

They chatted for a while, but then Erica waved goodbye and headed for the library. It came as a relief to finally put a face to the woman who had been such a major part of Patrik’s life for eight years. She hadn’t even seen a picture of her before. But considering the circumstances that had caused them to split up, it was understandable that Patrik wouldn’t have wanted to keep any photographic evidence of the time they’d spent together.

The library was as calm as always. She’d spent many hours here, and there was something about libraries that gave her a tremendous sense of satisfaction.

‘Hi, Christian!’

The librarian glanced up and smiled when he saw Erica.

‘Hi, Erica. How nice to see you again! What can I help you with today?’ His Småland accent sounded so pleasant. Erica wondered why people from Småland always seemed so likable the minute they opened their mouths. In Christian’s case, the first impression held true. He was always cordial and helpful, as well as good at his job. There had been many occasions when he’d helped Erica find information that she’d only the faintest hope of being able to locate.

‘Do you need to know more about the same case that you were researching last time?’ he asked, giving her a hopeful glance. Erica’s research questions were always a welcome diversion from the rather monotonous routine of his job, which mainly consisted of looking up information about fish, sailboats, and the fauna of Bohuslän.

‘No, not today,’ she said, sitting down on a chair across from him in front of the information desk. ‘Today I need some facts about people here in Fjällbacka. And certain events.’

‘People and events. Could you possibly be a little more specific?’ he said with a wink.

‘I’ll try.’ Erica quickly rattled off a list of names: ‘Britta Johansson, Frans Ringholm, Axel Frankel, Elsy Falck – or rather, Moström – and . . .’ she hesitated a few seconds before adding, ‘Erik Frankel.’

Christian gave a start. ‘Isn’t he the man who was found murdered?’

‘That’s right,’ said Erica.

‘And Elsy? Is that your . . .?’

‘My mother, yes. I need some information about all of these people, from around the time of the Second World War. In fact, let’s limit the search to the war years.’

‘In other words, 1939 to 1945.’

Erica nodded and watched expectantly as Christian typed the desired request into his computer. ‘How’s it going with your own project, by the way?’

A cloud seemed to pass over the librarian’s face. Then it was gone, and he answered her question. ‘I’m about halfway done. Thanks for asking. And it’s largely because of the advice you’ve given me that I’ve made it this far.’

‘Oh, it was nothing,’ said Erica, looking embarrassed. ‘Just let me know if you need any more writing tips, or if you’d like me to have a look at your manuscript. By the way, have you chosen a working title?’

‘
The Mermaid
,’ said Christian, not meeting her eye. ‘It’s going to be called
The Mermaid
.’

‘What a good title. How’d you come up with . . .?’ Erica asked, but Christian brusquely shook his head, indicating that he didn’t want to discuss it. She looked at him in surprise. That was so unlike him. She wondered if she’d said something to offend him, but couldn’t think what it might be.

‘Here are some articles that may interest you,’ Christian then said. ‘Shall I print them out for you?’

‘Yes, please,’ said Erica, still a bit startled. But when Christian returned a few minutes later, bringing her a stack of pages from the printer, he was back to his usual self.

‘This should keep you busy for a while. Just let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with.’

Erica thanked him and left the library. She was in luck. The café across the street was open, and she bought herself a coffee before she sat down and began to read. But what she found was so interesting that she left her cup untouched, and the coffee grew cold.

* * *

‘All right, what have we found out so far?’ Mellberg grimaced as he stretched out his legs. He was surprised that the aches and pains from exercising could last so long. At this rate, he would recover just in time for the next mangling of his body at the Friday salsa class. But strangely enough, the idea wasn’t as alarming as he’d imagined. There was something about the combination of the fascinating music, the closeness of Rita’s body, and the fact that by the end of the previous week’s class his feet had actually started to figure out the moves. No, he wasn’t planning to quit anytime soon. If there was anyone who had the potential to become the salsa king of Tanumshede, he was it.

‘Sorry, what did you say?’ Mellberg gave a start. He’d completely missed what Paula was saying as he lapsed into daydreams about Latin rhythms.

‘As Paula said, we’ve managed to pin down the time frame for Erik Frankel’s murder,’ said Gösta. ‘He was with his . . . girlfriend, or whatever you call people in that age bracket, on the fifteenth of June. He split up with her, and he was visibly drunk, which according to her was highly unusual.’

‘And the cleaning woman went over to the house on the seventeenth of June, but couldn’t get inside,’ Martin added. ‘That doesn’t necessarily mean that he was dead by then, but it’s a clear indication that he may have been. She’d never been unable to get into the house before. If the brothers weren’t at home, they would always leave a key for her.’

‘Okay, good, then for the time being we’ll work on the assumption that Erik died between the fifteenth and seventeenth of June. Check with his brother to find out whether he was at home or had already left for Paris.’ Mellberg leaned down to scratch Ernst behind the ears. The dog was lying under the kitchen table, having settled on top of Mellberg’s feet, as usual.

‘But do you really think that Axel Frankel had anything to do with . . .?’ Paula stopped in mid-sentence when she saw Mellberg’s cross expression.

‘I don’t think anything at the moment. But you know as well as I do that most murders are committed by a family member. So let’s give the brother a shake. Okay?’

She nodded. For once Mellberg was right. She couldn’t let the fact that she’d found Axel Frankel so likable hinder the job she needed to do.

‘What about the boys who broke into the house? Have we secured any leads from them?’ Mellberg looked at his colleagues seated around the table. Everyone turned to Gösta. He fidgeted nervously.

‘Ah . . . well . . . yes and no. I took shoe prints and fingerprints from one of the boys – Adam – but I haven’t really had time to . . . talk to the other one.’

Mellberg opened his eyes wide. ‘You’ve had several days to take care of this simple task, and yet you haven’t – and I quote – had
time
for it. Is that correct?’

Gösta nodded, looking downhearted. ‘Er, uh, yes . . . that’s correct. But I’ll see to it today.’ Yet another glare from Mellberg.

‘Immediately, ASAP,’ said Gösta, looking down.

‘You’d better hop to it,’ said Mellberg, who then shifted his attention to Martin and Paula.

‘Anything else? How’s it going with Ringholm? Anything there? Personally, I think it seems like the most promising lead, and we should really turn things upside down with Sweden’s Friends.’

‘We’ve spoken to Frans, but didn’t get anything more to go on. According to him, there were certain elements within the organization that had threatened Frankel, but he tried to intervene to protect Erik because of their old friendship.’

‘And these “elements”’ – Mellberg sketched quote marks around the words with his fingers – ‘have we talked to them?’

‘No, not yet,’ said Martin calmly. ‘But it’s on the agenda for today.’

‘Good, good,’ said Mellberg, shoving Ernst off of his feet because they were starting to go numb. Ernst let loose an audible doggy fart, then settled more comfortably on top of his master’s feet. ‘All right, that leaves only one more thing to discuss. This station is not a day-care centre! Do you understand?!’ He stared at Annika, who been quietly taking notes during the meeting. She stared back at him over the rims of her reading glasses. After a long pause, Mellberg began to squirm, wondering if his tone of voice might have been a bit too harsh.

Then she said, ‘I took care of my work even though I was watching Maja for a little while yesterday, and that’s the only thing that you need to worry about, Bertil.’

A silent power struggle was played out as Annika calmly met Mellberg’s gaze. Finally he looked away, muttering, ‘Well, all right, you’re probably the best judge of –’

‘Besides, it was thanks to Patrik dropping by that we realized we’d forgotten to check on Erik’s bank accounts.’ Paula winked at Annika to show her support.

‘I’m sure we would have thought of it sooner or later . . . but thanks to Patrick it ended up being sooner, instead of later,’ said Gösta, and he glanced at Annika before he lowered his eyes and returned to studying the tabletop.

‘Okay, but I thought he was on paternity leave,’ said Mellberg sullenly, well aware that he’d lost the battle. ‘What are you all waiting for? Now that we have something to go on, let’s get busy.’ Everybody got up and put their coffee cups in the dishwasher.

At that moment the phone rang.

Chapter 20
Fjällbacka 1944

‘I thought I’d find you here.’ Elsy sat down next to Erik, sheltered in the cleft of a boulder.

‘This is where I have the greatest chance of being left in peace,’ said Erik crossly, but then his expression softened and he closed the book he was holding on his lap.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to take out my bad mood on you.’

‘Is Axel the reason for your bad mood?’ asked Elsy gently. ‘How are things at home?’

‘It’s like he’s already dead,’ said Erik, gazing out over the water that was lapping restlessly at the entrance to Fjällbacka harbour. ‘At least my mother is acting that way, as if he’s already dead. And my father just goes around muttering, refusing to even talk about it.’

‘What about you? How do you feel?’ asked Elsy, studying her friend. She knew Erik so well. Better than he thought. They’d spent so many hours playing together – she and Erik, Britta and Frans. There weren’t many games left for them to play, now that they were all almost grown up. But at this moment, she saw no difference between the fourteen-year-old Erik and the five-year-old boy, who even in short pants had seemed like an old man in a small body. It was as if Erik had been born a little old man who gradually grew into his proper self. As if the child’s body, the boy’s body, and now the young man’s, were stages he had to go through before he fit into the skin that suited him.