The Stonecutter. Camilla Lackberg
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voice was now sounding stronger with each sentence she uttered.
Erica hesitated for a moment, then she said, ‘Of course.’
With Maja on one arm she helped Charlotte up from the sofa and led her out of the living room.
‘Where’s the bathroom?’ Erica asked. Niclas pointed mutely to a door at the end of the hall.
The walk to that door felt endless. When they passed the kitchen, Lilian caught sight of them. She was just about to open her mouth and fire off a salvo when Niclas stepped in and silenced her with a look. Erica could hear an agitated muttering issuing from the kitchen, but she didn’t pay it much attention. The main thing was for Charlotte to feel better, and she was a firm believer in the restorative properties of a shower and a fresh change of clothes.
STRÖMSTAD 1923
It wasn’t the first time Agnes had sneaked out of the house. It was so easy. She just opened the window, climbed out on the roof and down the tree, whose thick crown was right next to the house. It was a piece of cake. But after careful consideration she’d decided not to wear a dress, which could make tree-climbing difficult. Instead she chose a pair of trousers with narrow legs that hugged her thighs.
She felt as if driven by an enormous wave, which she neither wanted to, nor could resist. It was both frightening and pleasant to feel such strong feelings for someone, and she realized that the fleeting infatuations she had previously taken seriously had been nothing but child’s play. What she felt now were the emotions of a grown woman, and they were more powerful than she could ever have imagined. During the many hours she’d spent pondering since that morning, she had occasionally been clear-sighted enough to understand that a longing for forbidden fruit was largely responsible for the heat in her breast. Nevertheless, the feeling was real, and she was not in the habit of denying herself anything. She was not about to start now, even though she had no precise plan. Only an awareness of what she wanted, and she wanted it now. Consequences were not something she ever took into consideration, and after all, things had always tended to work out for her, so why wouldn’t they now?
She did not even entertain the notion that Anders might not want her. To this day she had never met a man who was indifferent to her. Men were like apples on a tree, and she only needed to reach out her hand to pick them, though she was inclined to admit that this apple might present a slightly greater risk than most. She had kissed married men without her father’s knowledge, and in some instances had even gone farther than that, but they were all safer than the man she was about to meet. At least they belonged to the same class as she did. Even though it might have initially caused a scandal if her relations with any of them had come out, such affairs would have been regarded with a certain indulgence. But a man from the working class. A stonecutter. No one even dared think such a thought. It simply would never occur to them.
But she was tired of men from her own class. Spineless, pale, with limp handshakes and shrill voices. None of them was a man in the same way as the man she was about to meet. She shivered when she remembered the feeling of his callused hand against hers.
It hadn’t been easy to find out where he lived. Not without arousing suspicion. But a glance at the wage slips during an unguarded moment had provided his address, and then she had been able to work out which room was his by peering in the windows.
The first pebble produced no response, and she waited a moment, afraid of waking the old landlady. But no one moved inside the house. She paused to preen in the ethereal moonlight. She had chosen simple, dark clothing so as not to emphasize the difference in their social standing. For that reason she had also plaited her hair and wound it atop her head in one of the simple hairdos that were common among the working-class women. Pleased with the result, she picked up another pebble from the gravel walkway and tossed it against the window. Now she saw a shadow moving inside, and her heart skipped a beat. The euphoria of the chase pumped adrenaline into her body, and Agnes felt her cheeks flush. When he opened the window, puzzled, she sneaked behind the lilac bush that partly covered the window and took a deep breath. The hunt was on.
6
It was with a heaviness in both his heart and his step that Patrik left Mellberg’s office. What a damned old fool! That was the thought that immediately popped into his mind. He understood quite well that the superintendent had forced Ernst on him merely out of spite. If it wasn’t so bloody tragic it would almost be comical. How stupid.
Patrik went into Martin’s office, his body language signalling that things hadn’t gone the way they had imagined.
‘What did he say?’ asked Martin with dark foreboding in his voice.
‘Unfortunately he can’t spare you. You have to keep working on some car-theft mess. But he apparently has no problem getting along without Ernst.’
‘You’re kidding,’ Martin said in a low voice, since Patrik hadn’t closed the door behind him. ‘You and Lundgren are going to work together?’
Patrik nodded gloomily. ‘Looks that way. If we knew who the killer was we could send him a telegram and congratulate him. This investigation is going to be hopelessly sunk if I can’t keep him out of it as much as possible.’
‘Well, shit!’ said Martin, and Patrik could do nothing but agree. After a moment’s silence he slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up, trying to muster a little enthusiasm.
‘I suppose there’s nothing for it but to get to work.’
‘Where did you intend to start?’
‘Well, the first thing will be to inform the girl’s parents about the recent developments and cautiously try to ask a few questions.’
‘Are you taking Ernst along?’ Martin asked sceptically.
‘No, I think I’ll try to slip off by myself. Hopefully I can wait to inform him about his change of assignment until a little later.’
But when he came out in the corridor he realized that Mellberg had foiled his plans.
‘Hedström!’ Ernst’s voice, whiny and loud, grated on his ears.
For an instant Patrik considered running back into Martin’s office to hide, but he resisted this childish impulse. At least one person on this newly formed police team would have to behave like a grown-up.
‘Over here!’ He waved to Lundgren, who came steaming towards him. Tall and thin, and with a perpetually grumpy expression on his face, Ernst was not a pretty sight. What he was best at was sucking up and kicking down. He had neither the temperament nor the ability for regular police work. And after the incident of the past summer, Patrik considered his colleague downright dangerous because of his foolhardiness and desire to show off. And now he was forced to be partners with him. With a deep sigh he went to meet him.
‘I just talked to Mellberg. He said the little girl was murdered and that we’re going to lead the investigation together.’
Patrik looked nervous. He sincerely hoped that Mellberg hadn’t decided to subvert his authority behind his back.
‘What I think Mellberg said was that I’m going to lead the investigation and you’re going to work with me. Isn’t that right?’ said Patrik in a voice soft as velvet.
Lundgren looked down, but not fast enough for Patrik to miss a quick glimpse of loathing in his eyes. He had taken a gamble, but apparently it had worked. ‘Yes, I suppose that’s right,’ Ernst said crossly. ‘Well, where do we start – boss?’ He said the last word with deep contempt, and Patrik clenched his fists in frustration. After five minutes of this partnership he already wanted to throttle the fellow.
‘Come on, let’s go into my office.’ He led the way and sat down behind the desk. Ernst sat down in the visitor’s chair with his