The Stonecutter. Camilla Lackberg
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looked at the clock. An hour before Kristina was scheduled to come waltzing in, and she still hadn’t done the dishes. She probably ought to dust as well. She glanced down at her daughter. Maja had gone to sleep contentedly in the sling to the sound of the vacuum cleaner, and Erica mused whether this might be something that would work in future when putting the baby to bed. So far all such attempts had been accompanied by loud protests, but she had read that babies liked to fall asleep to monotonous sounds, like the vacuum cleaner or a clothes dryer. It was worth a try, at least. For the time being the only way to get their daughter to sleep was to have her lie on Erica’s stomach or at her breast, and that was beginning to be intolerable. Maybe she ought to test the methods she’d read about in The Baby Book, the excellent childcare manual by nine-time mother Anna Wahlgren. She had read it before Maja arrived, and a stack of other books for that matter, but when a real baby appeared on the scene, all the theoretical knowledge she had assimilated flew out of the window. Instead she and Patrik practised a sort of ad hoc survival philosophy with Maja. Erica felt that it might be time to retake control. It didn’t make sense that a baby two months old could control the whole house to such a large extent. If Erica could have handled such a situation, that would be one thing, but she could feel how she was gradually slipping further into the darkness.
A quick rap at the door interrupted her thoughts. Either an hour had passed in record time, or her mother-in-law had arrived early. The latter was more likely, and Erica looked around the room in dismay. Oh well, nothing to be done about it now. She just had to put on a smile and let her mother-in-law in. She opened the front door.
‘But my dear, you’re standing there with Maja in the draught! She’ll catch a cold, you know.’
Erica closed her eyes and counted to ten.
Patrik hoped that things would go well when his mother came to visit. He knew that she could be a bit … overwhelming, one might say. Even though Erica usually had no problem dealing with her mother-in-law, she hadn’t been herself since Maja was born. At the same time she badly needed a break, and since he couldn’t provide it for her, they had to make use of the resources that were available. Once again he wondered whether he ought to try and find someone Erica could talk to, a professional. But where could he turn? No, it was probably best to let her work through things on her own. The depression would surely pass as soon as they got a routine established. At least that was what he tried to believe. But he couldn’t prevent a little nagging suspicion from creeping in, a suspicion that maybe he was choosing to believe this because it required the smallest amount of effort on his part.
He forced himself to stop thinking about home and return to the notes he had before him. He had called a meeting in his office for nine o’clock, five minutes from now. As he suspected, Mellberg hadn’t objected to involving additional personnel; he seemed to view it as inevitable. Anything else would have been idiotic, even by Mellberg’s standards. How could they conduct a homicide investigation with just two detectives, Ernst and himself?
First to arrive was Martin, who sat down in the only visitor’s chair in the room. The others would have to bring their own chairs.
‘How’d it go with the flat?’ Patrik asked. ‘Was it any good?’
‘It was fantastic!’ said Martin, his eyes shining. ‘We took it on the spot. Weekend after next you can come and help carry cartons.’
‘Oh, is that right?’ Patrik laughed. ‘How nice of you. I’ll have to get back to you on that, after conferring with the boss at home. Erica’s being a little stingy with my time right now, so I can’t promise you anything.’
‘I understand,’ said Martin. ‘I have a number of favours I can call in from people I’ve helped move, so we’ll probably manage fine without you.’
‘What’s this I hear about moving?’ Annika asked, sweeping in with a coffee cup in one hand and notebook in the other. ‘Should I really believe my ears? Are you finally going to join the rest of us and settle down, Martin?’
Martin flushed, as he always did when Annika teased him, but he couldn’t help smiling.
‘Yeah, you heard right. Pia and I found a flat in Grebbestad. We’re moving in two weeks from today.’
‘Well, I’m certainly glad to hear it,’ said Annika. ‘It’s about time too. I’d been worrying that you were going to end up gathering dust on the shelf. So … when are we going to hear the pitter-patter of little feet?’
‘Oh, give me a break,’ said Martin. ‘I remember the way you badgered Patrik when he met Erica, and now look how things have turned out for him. That poor guy felt so much pressure to propagate with his woman, and now he sits here looking ten years older.’ He winked at Patrik to show that he was joking.
‘Well, let me know if you need any tips on how to do it,’ Patrik offered cheerfully.
Martin was just about to come back with a witty rejoinder when Ernst and Gösta simultaneously tried to wedge through the doorway with their chairs. Grumbling, Gösta slipped past Ernst, who nonchalantly took a place in the middle of the room.
‘It’s going to be tight with the whole crowd in here,’ said Gösta, glowering at Martin and Annika, who scooted their chairs over.
‘There’s always room for one more, as my mother used to say,’ Annika commented a bit sarcastically.
Mellberg came sauntering in last of all; he was content to lean against the door jamb.
Patrik spread out his papers on his desk and took a deep breath. The full force of what it meant to head a homicide investigation suddenly struck him. This wasn’t the first time, but still he was nervous. He didn’t like being the centre of attention, and the gravity of the task caused his shoulders to slump. But the only other option was for Mellberg to take charge, and Patrik wanted to avoid that at all costs. So it was just a matter of getting started.
‘As you know, we’ve now received confirmation that Sara Klinga’s death was not an accident, but a murder. She did drown, but the water in her lungs was fresh, not saltwater, which indicates that she was drowned somewhere else and then dumped in the sea. I know this is nothing new, but all the details are in the report from Pedersen, the M.E. Annika has made copies for you.’ He passed a stack of stapled reports around the table, and they each took one.
‘Can anything be deduced based on the water in her lungs? For example, it says here that there were remnants of soap in the water. Could we find out what sort of soap it was?’ asked Martin, pointing at an item in the autopsy report.
‘Yes, hopefully we can,’ replied Patrik. ‘A water sample was sent off to the National Forensic Laboratory for analysis, and in a few days we’ll know more about what they’ve been able to find.’
‘What about the clothes?’ Martin went on. ‘Can we say whether she was dressed or not when she was drowned in the bathtub? Because we can almost certainly assume it was a bathtub she was drowned in, can’t we?’
‘I’m afraid the answer is the same. Her clothes were also sent off, and until we get the results back I don’t know any more than the rest of you.’
Ernst rolled his eyes and Patrik gave him a sharp look. He knew precisely what was going on inside the man’s head. He was jealous because it was Martin and not him who had thought of some intelligent questions to ask. Patrik wondered whether Ernst would ever understand that they worked together in a team in order to solve a task, and that it wasn’t a matter of a contest between individuals.
‘Are we dealing with a sex crime here?’ Gösta asked, prompting Ernst to look even more annoyed, if possible. Even his partner in lethargy had managed to come up with a relevant question.
‘Impossible to say,’ replied Patrik. ‘But I’d like Martin to start checking whether there’s anyone on our list who’s been convicted of sex crimes against children.’
Martin nodded and made a note.
‘Then we also have to look more closely