Buried Angels (34 page)

‘Did you have any contact with her after she moved to Göteborg?’

Gösta hesitated. Then he shook his head. ‘No, we decided it would be best to make a clean break. The day that she left …’ His voice broke, and he couldn’t finish the sentence, but it wasn’t necessary. Erica understood.

‘How does it feel to see her again?’

‘It’s a bit strange. She’s a grown woman now, a stranger. At the same time, I can still see the little lass in her, the girl who stood here picking raspberries and laughing at us.’

‘She’s not doing much laughing these days.’

‘No, she’s not.’ He frowned. ‘Do you know what happened to their son?’

‘I haven’t wanted to ask. But Patrik and Paula are on their way to Göteborg to talk to Ebba’s adoptive parents. I’m sure they’ll find out.’

‘I don’t like her husband,’ said Gösta, reaching for a bun.

‘Tobias? I don’t think there’s anything wrong with him. They just seem to be having some problems in their marriage. They have to work through the loss of their child, and I know from my sister’s experience how that can take its toll on a relationship. A shared sorrow doesn’t always bring people closer together.’

‘You’re right about that.’ Gösta nodded, and Erica realized that he knew all too well. He and Maj-Britt had lost their first and only child days after he was born. And then they lost Ebba too.

‘Look, Uncle Gösta! There’s tons of raspberries!’ shouted Maja from the bushes.

‘Eat as many as you want,’ he told her, his eyes sparkling again.

‘Maybe you’d like to babysit sometime,’ said Erica, only half joking.

‘I’m not sure I could handle three of them, but I’d be happy to look after the little girl if you ever need help.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ Erica decided to see to it that Gösta had a chance to babysit for her daughter someday soon. Maja was never shy with strangers, but she seemed to have taken a special liking to Patrik’s morose colleague. And it was obvious that Gösta had an empty space in his heart that Maja might help fill.

‘So what do you think about the shooting yesterday?’

Gösta shook his head. ‘I can’t make head or tail of it. The family disappeared in 1974, most likely murdered. Since then, nothing’s happened. Not until Ebba returned to Valö. Then all hell breaks loose. But why?’

‘It can’t be because she witnessed anything. Ebba was so young that she can’t possibly remember.’

‘I know. I’m more inclined to think that someone wanted to prevent Ebba and Tobias from finding the blood. But the shots fired yesterday don’t fit with that theory. By that time, the damage had already been done.’

‘The card Tobias brought in is proof that somebody means to harm her. And since the cards began arriving in 1974, we can conclude that everything that has happened to Ebba during the past week is somehow connected to her family’s disappearance. On the other hand, this is the first time the message on the card has seemed threatening.’

‘Well, I …’

‘Maja! Don’t push Noel!’ Erica jumped up and ran over to the children, who were in the midst of a loud quarrel next to the raspberry bush.

‘But Noel took the raspberry. It was mine. And he ate it!’ cried Maja, trying to give Noel a kick.

Erica took her daughter by the arm and warned her, ‘Stop it! You’re not allowed to kick your little brother. And there are still plenty of raspberries left.’ She pointed at the bush, which was loaded with ripe red berries.

‘But I wanted that one!’ Maja’s face made it clear that she felt herself unfairly treated, and when Erica let go of her arm to pick up Noel and comfort him, she rushed off.

‘Uncle Gösta! Noel took my raspberry,’ she sniffled.

He looked down at the little girl, covered in raspberry juice. With a smile he picked her up and set her on his lap. She promptly curled herself in a pitiful little ball.

‘It’s okay, sweetie,’ said Gösta, stroking her hair as if he had long experience soothing unhappy three-year-olds. ‘You know what? That raspberry wasn’t the best one.’

‘It wasn’t?’ Maja abruptly stopped crying and gazed up at Gösta.

‘No. I happen to know where the very best berries are. But it’s a secret. You can’t tell your brothers or even your mother.’

‘I promise.’

‘All right then. I trust you,’ said Gösta. And he bent down and whispered something in her ear.

Maja listened carefully, then slid off his lap and headed back to the bush. By now Noel had calmed down, and Erica returned to the table and sat down.

‘What did you say to her? Where are the best raspberries?’

‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,’ said Gösta with a smile.

Erica turned to see Maja, standing on tiptoe, reaching for the raspberries that were too high up for the twins to pick.

‘That was clever of you,’ she said, laughing. ‘So where were we? Oh, yes, the attempt on Ebba’s life yesterday. We need to work out how to proceed. Have you found out what happened to the family’s belongings? It could be so helpful to have a chance to go through them. Was everything thrown away? Did someone come in afterwards to clean up the house? Did they employ a cleaner and gardener, or did the family do it all themselves?’

Gösta suddenly sat up straight. ‘Good Lord, how could I be so stupid? Sometimes I think I must be going senile.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I should have thought of this before … He was like part of the scenery out there, but that’s all the more reason why it should have occurred to me.’

Erica glared at him. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Junk-Olle.’

‘Junk-Olle? You mean the old guy who has a junkyard out in Bräcke? What does he have to do with Valö?’

‘He came and went as he pleased, doing odd jobs whenever he was needed.’

‘And you think that Junk-Olle might have taken possession of the family’s belongings?’

Gösta threw out his hands. ‘That might be one explanation. The old guy collects stuff, and if no one claimed the belongings, I wouldn’t be surprised if he carted it all away.’

‘The question is whether he still has it.’

‘You mean Junk-Olle might have done a bit of spring-cleaning and actually got rid of something?’

Erica laughed. ‘No, if he took the family’s things, we can be pretty sure that he still has them. Maybe we should go out there now and have a chat with him.’ She was already halfway out of her chair, but Gösta motioned for her to sit down.

‘Relax. If those items are in the junk heap, they’ve been lying there for over thirty years. They’re not about to disappear overnight. And that’s no place to take the kids. I’ll ring him later, and if he has the stuff out there, we can drive over when you have a babysitter.’

Erica knew he was right, but she couldn’t shake off the sense there was something she ought to be doing.

‘How is she?’ asked Gösta, and it took a second for Erica to realize who he was talking about.

‘Ebba? She seems completely worn out. I had the feeling that, in spite of everything, she was relieved to get away from the island for a while.’

‘And away from Tobias.’

‘I think you’ve misjudged him, but you’re probably right. It’s just the two of them out there, and they seem to be getting on each other’s nerves. She’s interested in learning more about her family’s history, so when I get home and put the twins down for their nap, I thought I’d show her what I’ve found.’

‘I’m sure she would appreciate that. She has quite a colourful past.’

‘You can say that again.’ Erica drank the rest of her coffee. It had gone cold, and she grimaced. ‘By the way, I had a talk with Kjell at
Bohusläningen
. He gave me some background information on John Holm.’ She briefed Gösta on the family tragedy that had set Holm on such a hateful path. She also told him about the note that she’d found. She hadn’t dared mention it to Gösta before.

‘Gimle? I have no idea what it means. There’s nothing to suggest that it’s connected with Valö.’

‘I know, but it might have made him nervous enough to get someone to break into our home,’ she said before she could stop herself.

‘Someone broke in? What does Patrik say about that?’

Erica didn’t reply, and Gösta stared at her.

‘You haven’t told him?’ His voice rose to a falsetto. ‘How certain are you that Holm and his followers are behind it?’

‘I’m only guessing, and it’s really no big deal. Someone got in through the veranda door and snooped around in my work room. They tried to log in to my computer, without success. Thankfully they didn’t steal my hard drive.’

‘Patrik will go berserk when he finds out. And if he hears that I knew about it and didn’t tell him, he’s going to be furious with me too.’

Erica sighed. ‘I’ll tell him. But the interesting part is that I appear to have something in my work room that’s valuable enough to risk breaking in. And I reckon it’s that note.’

‘Would John Holm really go to such lengths? The Friends of Sweden have a lot to lose if it got out that he’d broken into a policeman’s home.’

‘It might be important enough. But I’ve given the note to Kjell, so it’s up to him to work out what it means.’

‘Good,’ said Gösta. ‘Now promise me you’ll tell Patrik about it when he gets home tonight. Otherwise I’ll be in trouble too.’

‘Okay, okay,’ she said wearily. She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation, but it had to be done.

Gösta shook his head. ‘I wonder whether Patrik and Paula will find out anything in Göteborg. I’m beginning to feel a little discouraged.’

‘We can always hope that Junk-Olle will have something to tell us,’ said Erica, happy to change the subject.

‘We can always hope,’ agreed Gösta.

‘We consider it unlikely that your mother will be released anytime soon,’ said Dr Jansson. He was a white-haired man in late middle-age with a beard that made him resemble Santa Claus.

Laura sighed with relief. She had achieved a sense of order in her life now, with a good job and a new place to live. As one of Mrs Bergström’s lodgers on Galärbacken, she had only a small room, but it was all hers, and it was as nice as the dollhouse that had pride of place on the tall chest of drawers next to her bed. Life was much better without Dagmar. For three years her mother had been a patient at St Jörgen Hospital in Göteborg, and it was a relief not to have to worry about what trouble she might be getting into.

‘What exactly is wrong with my mother?’ she asked, trying to sound as if she cared.

She was nicely dressed, as always. She sat with her legs turned primly to one side, her handbag resting on her lap. Although she was only sixteen, she felt much older.

‘We haven’t been able to arrive at a specific diagnosis, but most likely she suffers from what we call delicate nerves. Unfortunately, the treatment has been unsuccessful. She still clings to her delusions about Hermann Göring. It’s not unusual for people with delicate nerves to develop fantasies about famous people.’

‘My mother has talked about him for as long as I can remember,’ said Laura.

The doctor gave her a sympathetic look.

‘From what I understand, you haven’t had an easy childhood. But you seem to be doing well. Not only do you have a pretty face, but you appear to be a very sensible young girl.’

‘I do what I can,’ she said shyly, but the bile rose up in her throat as images from her childhood came flooding in.

She hated not being able to control those thoughts. Normally she could suppress the memories of her mother and that dark, cramped flat with its stench of alcohol, which she’d never been able to erase, no matter how hard she scrubbed and cleaned. She had also buried the jeers of her classmates. No ugly words were hurled at her now. No one brought up the subject of her mother. Laura was respected for what she was: conscientious, proper, and meticulous in everything she undertook.

But still the fear remained. Fear that her mother would get out and ruin everything.

‘Would you like to see your mother? I can’t advise you to do so, but …’ Dr Jansson threw out his hands.

‘Oh, no, I think it’s best that I don’t. My mother always gets so … upset.’ Laura remembered every word that Dagmar had flung at her during that first visit. She had called her daughter such vile names that Laura couldn’t bear to repeat them. Dr Jansson obviously hadn’t forgotten either.

‘I think that’s a wise decision. We try to keep Dagmar calm.’

‘I hope you’re not letting my mother read the newspapers.’

‘No, after what happened, she does not have access to any papers.’ He shook his head emphatically.

Laura nodded. Two years ago the hospital had phoned her to say that Dagmar had read a newspaper report that Göring had moved the earthly remains of his wife Carin to Karinhall, his estate in Germany. He had also erected a memorial in her honour. Dagmar had flown into a rage, completely destroying her room and injuring one of the nurses so badly that he required stitches.

‘You’ll keep me informed if anything changes, won’t you?’ Laura said, standing up. She held her gloves in her left hand as she held out her right to bid the doctor goodbye.

As she turned and left the doctor’s office, a smile played over her lips. For now, at least, she was free.