Until Thy Wrath Be Past (18 page)

Tore Krekula ran his hand over his head. His hair had not thinned with age.

“Not that it proves anything even if someone has been there,” Stålnacke said, looking up at the ceiling and speaking as if he had forgotten that Krekula was there. “I mean, you can have paid someone a visit, but that doesn’t mean you killed them.”

At that moment the door opened and Martinsson came back into the office.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “As I was saying, Hjörleifur Arnarson has been found dead in his home. Have you been out there? You and your brother?”

Tore Krekula looked at her slyly.

“I won’t deny that we were there,” he said after a while. “But we didn’t kill him. We simply wanted to know what he’d seen. I mean, the police don’t tell any of us in the village a damned thing. But that was where they lived, after all. My aunt Anni was Wilma’s great-grandmother. You’d have thought they would have given her a bit of information.”

“So you were there,” Martinsson said. “What did he say?”

“Nothing. He probably thought you’d be furious with him if he said anything to us. We left none the wiser.”

Martinsson looked at her mobile.

“It’s 5.56. I confirm herewith that the police will search the houses of Tore and Hjalmar Krekula, both of whom we have good reason to suspect of the murder of Hjörleifur Arnarson.”

She turned to Tore Krekula.

“Take your clothes off. We’ll be taking them with us. You can keep your underpants on. We have some things in the car that we can lend you.”

The police are searching the houses of Tore and Hjalmar Krekula. I’m sitting on the roof of Tore’s porch. There’s a raven perched next to me. It knows I’m there, I’m convinced of it. It leans its head to one side and studies me, even though there’s nothing for it to see. It moves a step closer, then steps away again. Tore’s wife Laura is standing outside the front door, shivering. When she arrived home from the garage the police were already here – the blonde policewoman with the long plait, and three uniformed colleagues. They wouldn’t allow Laura into the house. Then the policewoman’s mobile rang. It was a short call. She simply said “O.K.”, and they went inside.

Now they’re taking Tore’s clothes away. I assume they’re hoping to find blood-stains from Hjörleifur.

Tore arrives and stands watching them. He says nothing at first, tries to catch the policewoman’s eye, but fails. He smiles scornfully at her colleagues instead and asks if they’d like to search his dustbin. Which they do. Tore’s wife says nothing. She doesn’t dare ask what they’re looking for. She has learnt not to wind Tore up.

The raven caws and clicks and clucks – it seems to be trying out different sounds to see if I’ll react to any of them. I can’t respond. Giving up, it flies off to Hjalmar’s house 150 metres away. Perches in the big birch tree and calls to me. In a flash I’m sitting beside it on a branch.

Hjalmar opens the door when the police ring the bell. He seems half asleep. His mop of hair resembles a spiky tuft of winter grass. His stubble is like a sooty shadow on his cheeks and neck. His belly sticks out like an overfed pig under his tent-like T-shirt. When the police officers ask him politely to wait outside until they’ve finished, he doesn’t put any trousers on, just steps outside in his underpants. The older officer, the one with the shaggy moustache, takes pity on him, and allows him to sit and wait in the police car.

I land in the prosecutor’s hair. I’m like a raven on the top of her head. I dig my claws into her dark locks. I turn her head to look at Hjalmar. She sees him sitting there in the police car, blinking. She opens the door and talks to him. I peck at her head. She must wake up now.

Olsson, Rantakyrö and Stålnacke carried clothing out of Hjalmar Krekula’s house and searched through the garage looking for a murder weapon. An hour and a half later they announced that they had finished.

Martinsson contemplated Hjalmar Krekula. She saw how he was leaning against the car window. It looked almost as if he were about to fall asleep. His eyelids were half-closed.

Suddenly he felt her watching him. He turned his head slowly and looked at her through the car window.

She felt as if she were being stabbed inside. His gaze dug into her just like a pike clamping its jaws round the bait. And her gaze dug into him. Like when the hook pierces the pike’s cheek.

Fleeting images flitting through her consciousness.

Nobody has touched him since he was a very little boy. Torture and pain are embedded in all that fat. This is something he can’t eat himself out of. He is at the end of the line.

But I’ve touched him, she thought – although it wasn’t so much a thought as an insight. He was young. I was not that old either. Fifteen, perhaps. I held him under his arms and lifted him up towards the heavens. The sun at its zenith. Dry soil under my bare feet. He slept in my arms. Was he my little brother? My child? My little sister?

Her heart felt as if it might burst with compassion. She wanted to place her hand on the car window. So he would place his hand against hers on the other side of the glass.

“Hello,” Olsson said beside her. “I said we’re finished.”

Following her gaze, he saw Hjalmar Krekula.

“That bloody swine!” he said between gritted teeth. “Let him suffer. Did they think they could mess about with Mella and get away with it? Let him sit there and stew in his underwear.”

Martinsson nodded absent-mindedly. Then she went over to Stålnacke’s car and opened the back door.

“We’ve finished,” she said to Hjalmar.

He was sitting there like a lump of lard, looking at her. Stålnacke had draped a red-and-black synthetic blanket over his bare legs.

They had slashed Mella’s tyres, Martinsson reminded herself. Nicked her mobile and lured Jenny to Järnvägsparken to scare the shit out of her. I must get a grip.

“We’re taking you to the station for questioning,” she said. “You’re not under arrest, so I’ll give you a lift home when we’ve finished.”

She controlled any feelings of sympathy. Made sure they were not noticeable. She caught sight of a raven perched on the porch roof.

“We’ll fetch you a pair of trousers.”

Transcript of the Interrogation of Tore Krekula
.

Place: Kiruna police station
.

Date and time: April 28, 19.35
.

Present: Inspectors Anna-Maria Mella and Sven-Erik Stålnacke, and

District Prosecutor Rebecka Martinsson
.

A.-M.M.: Interrogation begun at 19.35. Can you tell us your name, please?

T.K.: Tore Krekula.

A.-M.M.: You have told the police that you and your brother Hjalmar Krekula paid a visit to Hjörleifur Arnarson yesterday.

Why did you do that?

T.K.: We heard that the police had been there and asked questions about Wilma Persson and Simon Kyrö. We were relatives of Wilma’s. She lived with her great-grandmother Anni Autio. And Anni and our mother are sisters. But the police never tell us a bloody thing. So we wanted to know what the hell was going on.

A.-M.M.: Can you tell us about your visit to Hjörleifur Arnarson?

T.K.: What do you want to know?

A.-M.M.: Just tell us what happened.

T.K.: We asked what he’d spoken to the police about. He said, nothing in particular. He said you’d asked about Wilma and Simon, but he knew nothing.

A.-M.M.: Who did the asking? You or your brother?

T.K.: Me. I asked the questions. Hjalmar isn’t much of a one for talking.

A.-M.M.: And what happened then?

T.K.: What do you mean, what happened then? Nothing happened then. We went home. He didn’t know anything.

A.-M.M.: Did you touch anything while you were in his house?

T.K.: It’s possible. I don’t remember.

A.-M.M.: Think hard.

T.K.: As I said, I don’t remember. Is that all? Some of us need to earn enough money to pay your wages, you know.

A.-M.M.: Interrogation concluded at 19.42.

Transcript of the Interrogation of Hjalmar Krekula
.

Place: Kiruna police station
.

Date and time: April 28, 19.45
.

Present: Inspectors Anna-Maria Mella and Sven-Erik Stålnacke, and

District Prosecutor Rebecka Martinsson
.

A.-M.M.: Interrogation begun at 19.45. Can you tell us your name, please?

H.K.: –

A.-M.M.: Your name, please.

H.K.: Hjalmar Krekula.

A.-M.M.: You and your brother visited Hjörleifur Arnarson yesterday. Can you tell us about the visit?

H.K.: –

A.-M.M.: Can you tell us about that visit?

H.K.: –

A.-M.M.: Should I interpret your silence as meaning that you . . .

H.K.: He didn’t say anything. Can I go now?

A.-M.M.: No, you can’t go now, we have only just . . . Sit down!

R.M.: Can I have a word, please?

A.-M.M.: It’s 19.47. We are taking a short break.

“We have to let him go,” Martinsson said to Mella and Stålnacke. “We’ve got their clothes. We have to hope that the forensic examination gives us some results.”

They were standing in the corridor outside the interrogation room.

“But they haven’t said anything!” Mella said. “We can’t just let them go!”

“They are not under arrest. They’ve said what they’re going to say.”

“Nevertheless we have the right to keep them here and interrogate them for six hours. Those bastards can sit in there for six hours.”

“Do you want to be charged with professional misconduct?” Martinsson said calmly. “We have no justification for holding them.”

Olsson and Rantakyrö came out into the corridor, attracted by the sound of raised voices.

“Rebecka says we have to let them go,” Mella said.

“We’ll nail them regardless,” Olsson said by way of consolation.

Mella nodded.

We simply have to, she thought. I won’t be able to cope otherwise. Please God, let them find something on their clothes.

“We managed to search the houses after all,” Rantakyrö said. “Well done, Svempa.”

Stålnacke looked at the floor. Cleared his throat to show that he had noted the compliment.

“By God, we did!” Rantakyrö said, making a manful effort to transform the gloomy atmosphere. “I’d have given anything to have been there.”

“Yes, it was perfect timing with the telephone,” Martinsson said, giving Stålnacke a congratulatory look. “Anyway, let’s say goodbye to the Krekula brothers for now. Anna-Maria, do you have the documentation for Wilma, Simon and Hjörleifur?”

“Of course,” Mella said.

“O.K. Since I’m taking over the investigation, I’ll need to read all the material. I thought I’d do that this evening.”

No-one spoke. Everyone was looking at Martinsson.

“Having made the decision to search the Krekulas’ houses, I’ll be taking over the preliminary investigation,” Martinsson said.

The three male officers turned to look at Mella.

“Of course,” she said in an unnaturally offhand tone of voice. “But we’re not used to being so formal. With Alf Björnfot it was business as usual. We simply kept reporting to him as work progressed.”

“As I mentioned earlier today,” Martinsson said, and now the words came flowing smoothly out of her mouth, “you’re no longer working with Alf Björnfot, but with me. I want to read all the material. And I naturally expect you to report to me as soon as anything happens.”