The Hidden Child. Camilla Lackberg
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got a point there, Bertil. It’d be best for someone with your experience to make a careful inspection of the site. Paula and I can go inside and take a look.’
‘Right … exactly. I think that would be best.’ Mellberg rocked back on his heels for a moment before sauntering off across the lawn.
‘Shall we go in?’ said Martin.
Paula merely nodded.
‘Careful now,’ Martin told her as he opened the door. ‘We don’t want to disturb any evidence in case it turns out that this was not a death from natural causes. We’ll just have a quick look around before the techs get here.’
‘I have five years’ experience in the violent crimes division with Regional Criminal Investigation in Stockholm. I know how to handle a potential crime scene,’ Paula replied good-naturedly.
‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t know that,’ said Martin, embarrassed, but then he focused his attention on the task at hand.
An uncanny silence reigned inside the house, broken only by their footsteps on the hall floor. Martin wondered if the silence would have seemed as creepy if they hadn’t known there was a corpse on the premises; he decided it wouldn’t have.
‘In there,’ he whispered, but then realized there was no reason to whisper. So in his normal voice he repeated the words, the sound bouncing off the walls.
Paula followed close behind as Martin took a couple more steps towards the room that was presumably the library and opened the door. The strange smell that they’d noticed as soon as they entered the house got stronger. The boys were right. There were flies all over the floor. Their feet made a crunching sound as he and Paula went in. The smell was intensely sweet, but by now it was only a fraction of what it must have been in the beginning.
‘There’s no doubt that someone died here a good while ago,’ said Paula, and then she and Martin both caught sight of what was seated at the far end of the room.
‘No doubt about it,’ said Martin. There was an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He steeled himself and cautiously headed across the room to the body sitting in the chair.
‘Stay there.’ He raised a hand to warn off Paula, who obediently stayed near the door. She wasn’t offended. The fewer police treading through the room, the better.
‘It doesn’t look like he died of natural causes,’ said Martin as the bile rose up in his throat. He swallowed over and over, fending off the urge to vomit as he concentrated on the job. In spite of the pitiful condition of the body, there was no doubt at all. A big contusion on one side of the victim’s head spoke volumes. The person seated in the chair had been the victim of a brutal assault.
Carefully Martin turned around and exited the room. Paula followed. After taking a few deep breaths of fresh air, the urge to throw up faded. At that moment he saw Patrik turn the corner and make his way down the gravel path.
‘It’s murder,’ said Martin as soon as Patrik was within earshot. ‘Torbjörn and his team will have to come out and get to work. There’s nothing more we can do right now.’
‘Okay,’ said Patrik, his expression grim. ‘Could I just …’ He stopped and glanced at Maja sitting in her pushchair.
‘Go in and take a look. I’ll watch Maja,’ said Martin eagerly. He went over and picked her up. ‘Come on, sweetie, let’s go and look at the flowers over there.’
‘Flowers,’ said Maja, pointing at the flower bed.
‘Did you go inside?’ Patrik asked Paula.
She nodded. ‘Not a pretty sight. Looks like he’s been sitting there all summer. That’s my opinion, at least.’
‘I suppose you saw your share of things during your years in Stockholm.’
‘Not too many bodies in that state, but a few nasty ones.’
‘Well, I’m going in to have a quick look. I’m actually on paternity leave, but …’
Paula smiled. ‘It’s hard to stay away, isn’t it? I understand. But Martin seems to have a good handle on things.’ With a smile she looked over at the flower bed where Martin was squatting down with Maja to admire the blooms.
‘He’s a rock. In every sense of the word,’ said Patrik as he started walking towards the house. A few minutes later he returned.
‘I agree with Martin. Not much doubt about it, given that massive contusion on the victim’s head.’
‘No trace of a suspect.’ Mellberg was huffing and puffing as he came round the corner. ‘So, how does it look? Have you been inside, Hedström?’ he demanded. Patrik nodded.
‘Yes, there’s little doubt that it’s murder. Are you going to call in the techs?’
‘Of course,’ said Mellberg pompously. ‘I’m the boss of this madhouse. And by the way, what are you doing here? You insisted on taking paternity leave, and now that you’ve got it, you pop up here like a jack-in-the-box.’ Mellberg turned to Paula: ‘I really don’t understand the modern generation – men staying home to change nappies and women running about in uniform.’ Abruptly he turned away and stomped back to the police car to summon the techs.
‘Welcome to Tanumshede,’ said Patrik drily, receiving an amused smile in reply.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not insulted. I’ve come across his kind before. If I let all the dinosaurs in uniform bother me, I would have thrown in the towel long ago.’
‘I’m glad you see it that way,’ Patrik said. ‘And the one advantage with Mellberg is that at least he’s consistent – he discriminates against everybody and everything.’
‘That’s comforting to know,’ said Paula with a laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked Martin, who was still holding Maja.
‘Mellberg,’ said Patrik and Paula in unison.
‘What did he say now?’
‘Oh, the usual,’ said Patrik, reaching for Maja. ‘But Paula seems able to handle it, so things should be okay. Right now this little lady and I need to go home. Wave goodbye, sweetheart.’
Maja waved and grinned at Martin, whose face lit up.
‘What, are you leaving me, my girl? I thought we had something special going, you and me.’ He stuck out his lower lip in a pout and pretended to look sad.
‘Maja is never going to be interested in any man but her pappa. Right, sweetie?’ Patrik rubbed his nose against Maja’s neck, making her shriek with laughter. Then he put her in the pushchair and waved to his colleagues. Part of him was relieved that he could walk away. But another part would have liked nothing better than to stay.
She was confused. Was it Monday? Or was it already Tuesday? Britta nervously paced the living room. It was so … frustrating. It felt as if the more she struggled to catch hold of something, the faster it evaded her grasp. In more lucid moments, a voice inside told her that she ought be able to control things through sheer force of will. She should be able to make her brain obey her. At the same time, she knew that her brain was changing, breaking down, losing its ability to remember, to hold on to moments, facts, information, faces.
Monday. It was Monday. Of course. Yesterday her daughters and their families had come over for Sunday dinner. Yesterday. So today was Monday. Definitely. With relief, Britta stopped in mid-stride. It felt like a small victory. At least she knew what day it was.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she sat down at one end of the sofa. The Josef Frank upholstery was nice and familiar. She and Herman had bought the fabric together. Or rather, she’d chosen it and he had agreed with her choice. Anything to make her happy. He would have gladly accepted an orange sofa with green spots if that was what she wanted. Herman, yes … Where was he? She started picking at the sofa’s floral pattern