Sail of Stone (30 page)

“What you sayin’ sorry fer?” she said.

Ringmar looked at Winter, who was smiling a little. These were literal people.

“I’m the one who called,” said Ringmar.

“What?”

“I’m the one who called. I spoke to a woman who answered here and the—”

“That was the assistant,” answered Ella Algotsson as though she were the CEO of Västtrafik public transport, which had taken over the archipelago lines. “She isn’t here now, so you can go again.”

“But you’re the one we want to talk to, Mrs. Algotsson. She—”

“Miss.”

“Miss Algotsson,” said Ringmar. “She said that it would be okay for us to talk to you and your brother for a little bit.” Ringmar took out his wallet, showed her his ID. “My name is Bertil Ringmar and I’m a detective in Gothenburg, and this young man is Erik Winter and he’s
my
assistant.”

Winter showed his ID. Ella Algotsson looked at it, then looked suspiciously to Winter and then to Ringmar.

“Can’e really mek food?”

“Make food?” Ringmar gestured toward Winter. “That’s what he’s best at.”

“Arne’s sleepin’,” she said.

“Can we wait?” said Ringmar.

“He’s tired, Arne is.”

“We can leave for a bit and come back,” said Ringmar.

She didn’t answer.

“Has anyone else been here asking about Arne?” asked Ringmar.

“What’s that?” she said.

“When we came, you wondered what it was this time.”

“Axel was here,” she said.

Ringmar looked at Winter.

“Axel?” asked Ringmar, who got to be in charge of questioning. His assistant had the sense to know his place and keep quiet. Winter had backed up a few steps. “Axel Osvald?” Ringmar leaned a bit closer. She didn’t seem to hear. “Was Axel Osvald here recently to talk to Arne?”

“A few weeks ago,” she said, without hesitation. “They sat in the parlor. I wasn’t there.”

“What did they talk about?”

“The’ talked abou’ before o’course,” she said. “That’s all Arne can talk about. Ev’rythin’ else he’s forgot. But before he ca’ remember some’a.”

He can remember the past, Winter translated to himself.

“His Erik were here too,” she said. Ringmar hadn’t asked anything further. But he had earned her trust. She hadn’t asked what brought the inspector here, why he wanted to speak to her elderly brother. It didn’t seem to be of concern to her. Did she know something? Something more than that John Osvald had disappeared once upon a time? Winter tried to see her face behind the wrinkles that
were
her face, and there were her eyes with that strange, glimmering blue color that was almost a source of light in the dim hallway where she stood, and those eyes were directed at Ringmar the entire time. Did she know something that her brother Arne had once known but had forgotten long ago? Had some secret ended up within her? She had said that Axel and Erik Osvald had been looking for her brother, but maybe they’d also spoken with her.

They hadn’t asked about that.

“Erik?” said Ringmar. “Erik Osvald?”

“Yes.”

“Was he here along with his father? With Axel?”

“No. It was after.”

Moa Ringmar released her grip on the box and straightened up. She looked first at Aneta and then at Halders. Now she recognizes me, thought Aneta. It’s not some local darkie standing here.

“Didn’t Dad tell you? Isn’t he the one who sent you here?” asked Moa, whose eyes had become sharper.

“Moa!” said Halders. “Now the gears are starting to turn. You’re Moa Ringmar!”

“Bertil didn’t send us, Moa,” said Aneta. “We’re here on duty. And he has no idea what we’re doing here.”

“The state can’t afford to let us work as moving men too,” said Halders.

“And moving women,” said Moa.

“Yes,” said Aneta.

“I meant that he meant that you were to keep an eye on me in general.”

“Why would we do that?” asked Aneta.

“Because this is dangerous and unfamiliar territory for someone from idyllic Kungsladugård,” said Moa.

Never trust idylls, thought Aneta. They are even worse.

“Which apartment are you moving into?” asked Halders.

She told them, and they asked who she was renting it from.

“His name is Lindsten.”

“Is it a sublet?”

“Yes, for now. It’s a rental, of course. It could be—”

She stopped talking and looked from one detective to the other.

“Have I done something illegal here?” she asked. “It wasn’t a problem for the landlord.”

“I’m going to tell you something, Moa,” said Halders.

Ringmar took a deep breath, in and out, up on a cliff behind the houses. They could see the open sea and the coastline past Näset, to Askim, Hovås, Billdal, Särö, and down to Vallda. A fog was floating above the water, but it didn’t ruin the view. Ringmar threw out his arms.

“All of this can be yours, Erik.”

Winter had an unlit Corps in his mouth. He tried to see the little bay south of Billdal. It was impossible.

“The message has been received, Bertil.”

“Do you think the old man will be more conscious this afternoon?” said Ringmar.

“We can talk to the sister,” said Winter. “Maybe she knows everything.”

“Yes.”

“Should I continue to play your kitchen aide all afternoon?” asked
Winter. “Or maybe it’s called a home health aide within the health-care field.”

“It can only be good for you,” said Ringmar.

“Are you done breathing?” said Winter.

“You should do it, too,” said Ringmar as Winter lit his cigarillo. “Breathe in the sea.”

“I prefer to eat it,” said Winter.

“I’ve tried,” said Ringmar, “but oysters are not my thing.”

“Too bad for you, Bertil.”

Ella Algotsson opened up after three knocks.

“I thought ya’d gone back,” she said.

“There’s a boat at four thirty,” said Ringmar.

“Is Arne awake?” asked Winter.

She didn’t answer.

“Is Arne awake?” asked Ringmar.

“That he is,” she answered.

“May we come in for a bit?”

Arne Algotsson looked like a larger version of his sister. There was no doubt that they were siblings, as though their advanced age had enhanced their common features. Arne Algotsson was sitting on a red chair in the kitchen, and he turned around as they came in. His face was illuminated by the light from the horizon, which was visible though the window. There was a different light on the back side of the house; a different space. You could see the strip of mainland.

Arne Algotsson nodded. His eyes were blue in the same way as his sister’s, as though the sea wind had scrubbed everything clean out there, even eyes. Everyone who lived there for a long time ended up with the same worn blue haze in their eyes. But the man’s eyes lacked his sister’s lucidity and focus. He seemed to look through the visitors without holding on to anything.

Winter let Ringmar off at the Margreteberg roundabout and drove home via Linnéplatsen, Övre Husargatan, Vasagatan.

The parking garage smelled like leaking oil.

The elevator smelled like cigars.

He heard children’s laughter in the stairwell. It was about time in this building. Everyone was twice as old as he and Angela were.

He loved this building.

It had always been there. It was larger than life, was there before he came, would be there when he was gone.

They could sublease it, for the time being. When the house was finished down on the beach. Bertil’s Moa needed a place. If she hadn’t settled into Kortedala too much. This would be suitable for her. A little big for one, but she could share.

He unlocked the door and Elsa came running through the hall.

They made toast and brewed tea. Winter fried a few slices of haloumi for its saltiness. There were olives on the table.

“Let’s have a glass of white wine too,” he said.

The phone rang as he uncorked the bottle.

“I’ll get it,” said Angela.

“No, me,
me
!” yelled Elsa.

She answered, a confident
hello?

They saw her listening intently. Suddenly she giggled and said, “
Yes, suw
.”

“Steve,” said Winter to Angela.

“
Ya prata svinska,
” said Macdonald when Winter took the phone.

“And Elsa speaks English,” said Winter.

“Yes, sir.” Macdonald excused himself for a second and said something to someone and came back. “I just got home.”

Steve Macdonald lived with his wife and their fourteen-year-old twin girls in a house, a cottage as he said, down in Kent, just over an hour’s drive south of Croydon. Croydon was part of London, but it was also one of England’s ten biggest cities. It wasn’t exactly idyllic, Croydon.

“Same here,” said Winter. “I just opened the wine.”

“Jamie called in the car,” said Macdonald.

“I spoke with him,” said Winter, “if you mean Craig.”

“Yes. The daughter has arrived.”

“And?”

“She’s identified the body as her father. There’s no doubt.”

“When did this happen?”

“Just now. Half an hour ago.”

“Then she’ll call me soon,” said Winter.

“Was he prone to depression? Or had he been mentally ill in some way?” asked Macdonald, direct questions.

“I don’t know, Steve. Not according to the daughter, anyway. Nothing that was treated.”

“They haven’t found the car,” said Macdonald.

“Craig figured it had been stolen. It’s common.”

“It should have turned up by now.”

“What does Craig say?”

“He agrees with me.” Winter heard Macdonald mumble something to someone again and then returned. “Sorry. We’re just going over to a neighbor’s soon to celebrate because his loutish son is moving out.” Macdonald coughed out a short laugh. “Okay. Just for your information. We did have time to put out a bulletin about this Osvald before we found him, and a number of tips and … observations have come in.”

“What did those tips say?”

“They say that people have apparently seen him about up here during the last few weeks. In fact, it seems he’s been seen all over Moray and even down by Aberdeenshire.”

“What does that imply? The area, I mean?”

“I don’t know if this will mean anything to you, but it’s all the way down along the coast over to Fraserburgh and then down to Peterhead. We’ve even gotten a report from Aberdeen. It’s rather a long way to Aberdeen. And someone says they saw the man inland as well.”

“Does that matter, Steve?”

“I don’t know, my friend.”

“Something happened to him,” said Winter.

“Yes,” said Macdonald.

“Is it connected to his travels?”

“Why else would he have made them? Roaming around in our godforsaken district?” said Macdonald. “He sure wasn’t there on holiday.”

Speaking of holidays, thought Winter.

“One more thing,” said Macdonald. “He wasn’t alone.”

“I’m listening.”

“If it’s our man the witnesses saw, one of them saw him with company.”

“Has the witness described this company?”

“It was an older man.”

“An older man,” Winter echoed. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck, as though it suddenly moved. He saw that Angela noticed.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Macdonald.

“Is there more?” said Winter.

“Well, I don’t know. It’s up to Craig in Inverness. It seems that more will probably come in.”

“Craig is an efficient man.”

“Yes, you can say that about him. An efficient asshole.”

“I thought he was a friend. I thought you recommended him for the job up there.”

“Why do you think I did that?”

Winter laughed. Elsa laughed when he laughed. She liked English. Angela looked at him with a wrinkle between her eyes.

“The farthest commissioner’s office in all of Great Britain. Why do you think I recommended Craig for that?”

“Okay, okay.”

“He doesn’t like it,” said Macdonald.

“No, I can understand that.”

“I don’t mean the job or the place. I’m talking about this case,” said Macdonald. “Craig is an angry bastard, but that’s also to his advantage. In his career. He says that things aren’t what they look like.”

“What did you say he said?”

“Things are not what they look like,” repeated Macdonald. “That’s what he said.”

Winter felt the hair on the back of his neck again. Angela saw how serious he was.

“They’re doing another autopsy,” said Macdonald.

“Has Johanna accepted that? The daughter, that is.”

“Yes. According to Craig. But he didn’t think they would find anything there.”

“Where will they find something then?”

“Don’t ask me, Erik.”

“And what will they find?” said Winter.

“You sound quite involved in this,” said Macdonald.

“I have actually thought about it quite a bit,” said Winter. “Worked on it a little.”

“It sounds like it.”

And suddenly Winter saw what he would be doing in the near future. What he
wanted
to do. He saw an opportunity to see Steve again, an obvious opportunity. Some would call it obvious.

Angela was playing backgammon with Elsa now. She had made a meaningful gesture toward the wine bottle. He had nodded, and she had poured half a glass for herself and brought one to him. In three days they were supposed to go to Marbella for a week.

There would be other opportunities.

“It’s … interesting,” said Winter.

“Now you’ve started to get me interested,” said Macdonald. “You and Craig.”

“If it hadn’t been for the information I just received,” said Winter.

“You’ve thought about it before,” said Macdonald.

“What?”

“Don’t even try,” said Macdonald.

Winter didn’t answer; he took a drink of the wine, which was cold and dry. He thought, thought. He felt the old feeling, the old, wonderful, damn feeling. He thought of Marbella, of Angela, Mother … it could work out. Elsa might think it was nice. He could ask Siv …

“What do you say?” said Winter. They hadn’t needed to say out loud what they were discussing. It was the so-called iceberg effect. “Is it possible for you?”

“As a matter of fact,” said Macdonald, “I’ve been planning to take a trip home soon. I’ve actually been putting it off for too long.”