Camilla Lackberg Crime Thrillers 4-6: The Stranger, The Hidden Child, The Drowning. Camilla Lackberg
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know about Marit? I’ll fill in the information about Rasmus Olsson’s death because I’m the only one here who’s had access to the information. But I’ll give you copies of everything later.’
‘Forty-three years old,’ said Martin. ‘Lived with her partner Kerstin, had a daughter aged fifteen, owned her own shop.’
Patrik wrote down everything Martin said, then turned with the pen in his hand, waiting for more.
‘Teetotaller,’ said Gösta, looking alert for a moment.
Patrik pointed at him emphatically and wrote ‘TEETOTALLER’ on the chart. Then he quickly wrote the corresponding information in Rasmus’s column: Thirty-one, single, no children, worked in a pet shop. Teetotaller.
‘Interesting,’ said Mellberg.
‘Anything else?’
‘Born in Norway, divorced, had a falling-out with her ex-husband, conscientious …’ Hanna threw out her hands when she couldn’t come up with more. Patrik wrote down all those points. Marit’s column was getting much longer than Rasmus’s. Patrik added ‘conscientious’ to his column too; he had learned that from the interviews with the man’s next of kin. After thinking for a moment he wrote ‘accident?’ on Marit’s side of the paper, and ‘suicide?’ on Rasmus’s side.
The silence from the others confirmed that there wasn’t much more to add for the moment.
‘We have two apparently very different individuals who were murdered in the same unusual way. They’re different ages, different gender, with different employment, different domestic situations; they don’t seem to have the slightest thing in common except that they both were teetotallers.’
‘Teetotallers,’ said Annika. ‘To me that has almost a religious sound to it. From what I understand, Marit was not particularly involved in any type of formal religion; she simply did not drink alcohol.’
‘Yes, that’s something we have to find out about Rasmus. Since this is the only common denominator we can find, it’s as good a place to start as any. I thought that Martin and I would drive down to Borås and talk with Rasmus’s mother. Then you, Gösta, can take Hanna and talk with both Marit’s partner and her ex-husband. Find out as much as you can about the part of her life having to do with her sobriety. Was there any particular reason for it? Did she belong to any sort of organization? Anything that could give us a lead to what sort of connection she might have had to a single guy in Borås. Where did she live previously, for example. Did she ever live anywhere in the Borås area?’
Gösta gave Hanna a weary look. ‘I suppose we can get that done this morning.’
‘No problem,’ said Hanna, but she looked anything but happy about the task.
‘Is there something wrong?’ said Patrik peevishly.
‘Not at all,’ said Hanna, sounding annoyed. ‘I just think it seems a bit vague. I wish we had more to go on so we don’t end up down a blind alley. I mean, can we actually conclude that a connection exists? Maybe it’s just a coincidence that they died the same way. Since there isn’t any obvious link between the victims, the whole thing seems a bit hazy. But that’s just my opinion.’ She threw out her hands in a way that indicated she thought everyone should agree with her.
Patrik replied curtly with an icy tone to his voice that sounded out of character even to himself. ‘Then I think you ought to keep that opinion to yourself for the time being, and do the job you’ve been assigned.’
He felt the others staring at him in astonishment as he left Mellberg’s office. It wasn’t like him to lose his temper. But Hanna had put her finger on a tender spot. What if his gut feeling was leading him astray?
‘Yes?’ asked Kristina, sipping her tea with a grimace. To Erica’s great surprise she had declared that she no longer drank coffee because of her ‘tender tummy’, patting her stomach with a regretful sigh. As long as Erica had known her, Kristina had been a big coffee drinker, so it would be interesting to see how long this decision would hold.
‘Is this Grandma’s little sweetie? Yes, it is Grandma’s little sweetie, her little cutie-wootie-pie,’ Kristina cooed. Maja stared at Kristina in amazement. Sometimes Erica thought that her daughter already seemed smarter than her mother-in-law, but so far she had managed to refrain from propounding this theory to Patrik. As if Kristina could hear Erica’s thoughts, she turned to her daughter-in-law and skewered her with her gaze.
‘So, how’s it going with this … wedding?’ she said with no trace of baby-talk. She pronounced the word ‘wedding’ with the same distaste as if she were saying ‘dog shit’. At least she didn’t expect to be involved in all the planning.
‘It’s going splendidly. Thanks for asking,’ said Erica, flashing her loveliest smile. Inside she was rattling off the worst, most disgusting swear words she could think up. A sailor would have envied her rich vocabulary.
‘I see,’ said Kristina crossly. Erica sensed that she had asked the question in the hope of getting at least a glimmer of impending disaster.
Anna, who was sitting on the sidelines observing with amusement her sister’s interaction with her mother-in-law, now decided to throw Erica a lifeline. ‘Everything is coming along nicely. We’re even ahead of schedule, aren’t we, Erica?’
Erica nodded with obvious pride. But now all the silent epithets were replaced with a big question mark. What was Anna talking about, ahead of schedule? That was pushing it. But Erica didn’t let her confusion show. She had learned to think of her mother-in-law as a shark. If Kristina got the slightest scent of blood, sooner or later somebody was going to lose an arm. Or a leg.
‘What about the music?’ said Kristina, making a new attempt to sip her tea. Erica took a big gulp of her coal-black coffee and waved her cup about so that the aroma would spread over to Kristina’s side of the table.
‘We’ve hired a band from Fjällbacka. They’re called Garage, and they’re really good.’
‘I see,’ said Kristina with undisguised ill-humour. ‘So it’s going to be some of that pop music that you young folks listen to. Those of us who are a bit older will probably have to leave early.’
Erica could feel Anna kicking her in the shins. She didn’t dare look at her sister for fear of bursting out laughing, even though she didn’t find the situation that funny.
‘Well, I hope at least you’re thinking about the guest list. I couldn’t possibly attend unless Aunt Göta and Aunt Ruth are invited too.’
‘Really?’ said Anna innocently. ‘Patrik must be very close to them. Did he spend a lot of time with his aunts when he was growing up?’
Kristina hadn’t expected that topic to prompt such an insidious attack. ‘Well, no, I can’t say that –’
Anna interrupted her, speaking in the same innocent voice. ‘When was the last time Patrik saw them? I can’t recall him ever mentioning his aunts.’
With a stern frown Kristina was forced to retreat. ‘I suppose it was a while ago. Patrik was about … ten, as I recall.’
‘Then perhaps we should save those places on the guest list for someone Patrik has seen within the past twenty-seven years,’ said Erica, fighting an urge to give her sister a high-five.
‘I suppose you’ll do what you like anyway,’ said Kristina, annoyed. She realized that this point on her agenda could now be considered lost. But taking yet another sip of the disgusting tea she deployed her coup de grâce, keeping her eyes fixed on Erica. ‘I hope that Lotta will get to be maid of honour!’
Erica gave Anna a desperate look. She hadn’t even considered asking Patrik’s sister to be maid of honour; she naturally wanted Anna to play that role. Erica sat in silence for a moment, pondering how to counter Kristina’s latest manoeuvre. Then she decided simply to lay her cards on the table.
‘Anna