The Hidden Child. Camilla Lackberg
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the strange silence that had ensued. She was right. There was something that he’d been keeping from her.
The shrill sound of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts. With a sigh she swung her legs down from the desk and pushed back her chair. Who could that be? Her question was immediately answered by someone calling ‘Hello?’ in the hall. Erica sighed again, now with even greater emphasis. Kristina. Her mother-in-law. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and went over to the staircase. ‘Hello?’ she heard again, the tone of voice even more insistent, and Erica felt herself clenching her jaw with annoyance.
‘Hello,’ she said, as cheerfully as she could manage, although she was aware how false it sounded. Thank goodness Kristina was not particularly attuned to nuances.
‘Just popped into say hello!’ replied her mother-in-law happily as she hung up her jacket. ‘I brought along some cookies for coffee. Baked them myself. Thought you’d appreciate it, since you career girls don’t have time for such things.’
Erica was gnashing her teeth. Kristina had an unbelievable talent for issuing veiled criticisms. Was she born that way or was it something she’d perfected through long years of practice?
‘Oh, that sounds nice,’ she said politely as she went into the kitchen where Kristina was already making coffee, as if it were her house and not Erica’s.
‘Sit down. I’ll fix the coffee,’ she said. ‘I know where everything is.’
‘You certainly do,’ said Erica, knowing that Kristina wouldn’t pick up on the sarcasm.
‘Patrik and Maja are out taking a walk. They probably won’t be back for a while,’ she said, hoping that might make her mother-in-law cut her visit short.
‘I know,’ said Kristina as she measured out scoops of coffee. ‘Two, three, four …’ She put the scoop back in the tin and then turned her attention to Erica. ‘They’ll be home any minute. I drove past them on the way over. It’s so nice that Karin has moved back, and that Patrik has some company in the daytime. It’s boring to go out walking all alone, especially for someone like Patrik, who’s used to working and being productive. It looked as though they were enjoying each other’s company.’
Struggling to process this information, Erica stared at Kristina. What was she on about? Karin? Karin who?
The moment Patrik stepped through the door, a light went on in Erica’s head. Oh, that Karin.
Patrik smiled sheepishly, and after a strained pause he said, ‘How nice – coffee.’
They’d gathered in the kitchen for a run-through of the case. It was getting close to lunchtime, and Mellberg’s stomach was growling loudly.
‘Okay then, what do we have so far?’ He reached for one of the buns that Annika had set out on a platter. Just a little appetizer before lunch. ‘Paula and Martin? You talked to the victim’s brother this morning – did you find out anything interesting?’ He chewed on the bun as he talked, dropping crumbs on to the table.
‘That’s right, we picked him up at Landvetter airport,’ said Paula. ‘But he doesn’t seem to know very much. We asked him about the letters from Sweden’s Friends, but the only thing he was able to clarify was that Frans Ringholm was apparently one of Erik’s childhood friends. Axel didn’t know about any specific threats from that organization; it seems that threats were something of an occupational hazard, given the work that he and Erik did.’
‘Axel received threats?’ asked Mellberg, spraying more crumbs across the table.
‘Quite a few, from what he said,’ said Martin. ‘They’re all on file with the organization that he works for.’
‘Had he received any from Sweden’s Friends?’
Paula shook her head. ‘He couldn’t tell us whether he had or not. And I can understand that. He must get so much of that junk in the post, why would he pay any attention to it?’
‘What was your impression of him? I’ve heard that he was something of a hero in his youth.’ Annika gave Martin and Paula an inquisitive look.
‘Stylish, distinguished …’ said Paula, ‘but very subdued, which is only natural in the circumstances. He definitely seemed upset by his brother’s death. Did you have the same impression?’ She turned to Martin, who nodded.
‘Yes, I thought so too.’
‘I assume that you’re going to question him again,’ said Mellberg, looking at Martin. ‘And I understand you’ve been in touch with Pedersen, is that right?’ He cleared his throat. ‘A bit odd that he didn’t want to talk to me.’
Martin coughed. ‘I think you must have been out walking the dog when he called. I’m sure you were at the top of his list.’
‘Hmm, well, you’re probably right. Okay, go on. What did he say?’
Martin summarized Pedersen’s findings. Then he told them: ‘Apparently Pedersen rang Patrik first. Sounds as though he isn’t entirely happy about being a stay-at-home father: he got Pedersen to give him a full report. Considering how easy it was to entice him over to the crime scene, I bet we’ll be seeing him and Maja here at the station very soon.’
Annika laughed. ‘Yes, I talked to him yesterday. He was trying to be diplomatic, saying that it would probably take him some time to get adjusted.’
‘I believe it,’ snorted Mellberg. ‘What a stupid idea: grown men changing nappies and making baby food! My generation didn’t have to put up with that sort of rubbish. We could devote ourselves to things we were better suited for, while the women took care of the kids.’
‘I would have gladly changed nappies,’ said Gösta quietly, looking down at the table.
Martin and Annika glanced at him; they’d only recently found out that Gösta and his late wife had had a son who died shortly after birth. There had been no other children. Everyone sat in silence for a moment and avoided looking at Gösta. Then Annika said:
‘Well, I happen to think it’s a good thing. You men get to find out how much work is involved. I don’t have any of my own’ – now it was Annika’s turn to look sad – ‘but all my women friends have children, and it’s not like they lie around eating bonbons all day long because they’re at home with the kids. So this will probably be good for Patrik.’
‘You’ll never convince me of that,’ said Mellberg. Then he frowned impatiently and peered down at the papers lying on the table in front of him. Brushing off all the crumbs, he read a few sentences before he spoke again.
‘Okay, here’s the report from Torbjörn and his boys …’
‘And girls,’ added Annika. Mellberg sighed loudly.
‘And girls. You’re certainly on some sort of feminist warpath today! Shall we get on with this investigation, or should we just sing “Kumbaya” and debate the feminist agenda?’ He shook his head before proceeding:
‘As I said, I have here the report from Torbjörn and his team. And I can sum it up in two words: “no surprises”. They found a number of shoe prints and fingerprints, and of course we’ll have to follow up on those. Gösta, make sure that we get the boys’ prints so we can eliminate them, and the brothers’ too. By the way’ – he hesitated as he read a few lines to himself again – ‘it seems they’ve established that the victim received a blow to the head, delivered by some kind of blunt instrument.’
‘So, no other injuries? Just the one blow to the head?’ said Paula.
‘Uh, yes, that’s right: one blow. I asked Torbjörn that very question, and apparently it’s possible to tell by analysing the blood spatter on the walls. At any rate, the conclusion is quite clear: a powerful blow to the head.’
‘That agrees with the post-mortem results,’ said Martin, nodding. ‘What about the weapon? Pedersen thought it was