The Double Silence (22 page)

‘And you didn’t see her again?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Did you notice anyone following her?’

‘No. Although I didn’t stand there to watch. I was busy with my own things. There’s always work to do here on the farm.’

‘Do you remember seeing any other traffic on that day? Cars or bicycles, people walking past?’

‘Not many people come by here. Most stay away because they realize that they’ll have to cross our property if they want to keep going. And the rest of the promontory is private. It all belongs to Bergman. There’s no reason for anyone to come here.’

‘So you didn’t see anyone else pass by?’

‘Not that day. But there was someone in the night.’

Jacobsson was suddenly alert.

‘When was that?’

‘Later, after I’d gone to bed on Saturday. I woke up in the middle of the night. Being a farmer, I’m a light sleeper, because of the livestock, you know.’

Jacobsson nodded even though she didn’t really understand what the man meant by that. She was waiting impatiently for him to go on.

‘Anyway, I was woken by the sound of a car. I wondered who would be driving around at that ungodly hour, so I got out of bed to look outside. The bedroom window faces the road.’ He turned around to point at an upstairs window of his house. ‘I managed to see a car driving down the road, but I couldn’t tell what kind it was. Or who was driving.’

‘Could you tell if there was more than one person in the car?’ asked Kihlgård.

‘I’m afraid not. It happened so fast.’

‘Do you know what time it was?’

‘As a matter of fact, I checked to see the time. It was almost morning. Ten past four.’

‘And you’re sure of that?’

‘A hundred per cent sure. I looked at the alarm clock that I keep next to the bed. And it keeps good time.’

‘Did you see what colour the car was?’ asked Jacobsson.

‘No. I think it was a very dark colour, but it’s difficult to say. It was just before dawn, so the morning fog had come in and made it hard to see. I couldn’t really make it out properly; I just heard the sound.’

‘And can you tell us anything about that? Did it sound like an old car?’

‘No, I don’t think so. There was nothing special about it. Just a droning sound.’

‘And that’s the last you saw of it?’

‘Well, I went back to bed but I couldn’t sleep. So I got up and made coffee. Then I went out to the barn. And that’s when I heard the car again. When I was inside.’ The farmer shook his head.

‘What time was it then?’

‘That must have been almost an hour later. About five.’

Jacobsson and Kihlgård exchanged glances.

‘Do you know whether anyone else here in Hammars noticed that car?’

‘No, but I haven’t really asked anyone. I happened to think about it when I saw the pictures of the woman who’s gone missing. I recognized her at once and then I thought maybe the car had something to do with her disappearance, since it was headed in the same direction. And the road goes only to Bergman’s place. And to his neighbour’s house, of course. Valter.’

AFTER THEIR EXPEDITION
to Fårö, Jacobsson went into her office and closed the door. She turned on her computer and checked the flights to Stockholm on the following day. There were still seats on the 10.30 departure, and she could return at 5.30. That would give her six hours in the city. She couldn’t wait any longer. At the same time as she was busy with the investigation, the name Hanna von Schwerin kept buzzing in the back of her mind. At this point Jacobsson wasn’t planning to contact her daughter’s adoptive family; she just wanted to see Hanna. Nor did she intend to announce her presence right now. Just have a look. It should be possible on a Sunday. She booked a return ticket to Stockholm. She hoped that Hanna wasn’t away on holiday, but that was a risk she’d have to take. At least she would see the house where her daughter lived. That was always a start.

Kihlgård and Knutas would have to hold the fort while she was away. Pleased that she’d finally made a decision, Jacobsson leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands behind her head. She tried to imagine what her daughter might look like. Almost twenty-five. Her name didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe she was a completely ordinary young woman.

Her musings were interrupted when the phone rang. It was a call from the police in the Latvian town of Ventspils. Surprisingly enough, the officer spoke Swedish. Before she could ask, he explained that his mother was Swedish.

‘I’m calling because we discovered a dead man in a rowing boat south of
the harbour here in Ventspils. Two boys found it when they were searching for amber along the beach. It’s possible that the victim is Swedish.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘We’ve spent the whole day trying to match the description of the dead man with any missing persons in Latvia. Without success. The next step is to contact our neighbouring countries. And when it comes to Sweden, I decided to start with the police in Visby, since it’s most likely that the boat would have drifted across from Gotland. It’s a pretty direct route.’

Jacobsson felt her interest growing.

‘How old is the man?’

‘I’d say he’s in his seventies. He looks weatherbeaten, like an old fisherman. He also had a lot of fishing gear in the boat.’

‘Did he suffer any injuries?’

‘Yes. The ME hasn’t been here yet, but according to our technical officer, the man probably died from a violent blow to the head. He was obviously assaulted and has numerous contusions. He has clearly been in that boat for a while. Our crime tech thinks that he must have been dead at least a week.’

‘Can you give me a more detailed description?’

‘Five foot ten, dark hair with hardly any grey. A thin, wiry body. No moustache or beard. He was wearing dark trousers, sandals and a blue shirt. He had a key in his pocket. A pair of binoculars and a thermos of coffee were in the boat along with some fishing gear. That’s all.’

Jacobsson swallowed hard. The description was an exact match.

KNUTAS COULD TELL
from the footsteps approaching the door that Lina was on her way. His wrist was now in a cast, he’d slept for a few hours, and he’d had something to eat. He was feeling better.

When his wife appeared, Knutas felt a warmth spread through his body. He was glad to see her. She was holding a bag and a big bouquet of flowers.

‘Hi, sweetheart.’ She smiled and gave him a big hug. Knutas felt tears come to his eyes, but he managed not to cry.

‘Hi.’

She’d brought one of the hospital’s stainless-steel vases, which she filled with water at the sink. She put the flowers in the vase and opened the bag, which contained grapes, a chocolate cake and a stack of newspapers.

Then she sat down on the edge of the bed and took his hand.

‘How are you feeling?’

She looked worried. All of a sudden he noticed that she seemed thinner. He hadn’t noticed that before.

‘Have you lost weight?’

She laughed.

‘What sort of question is that?’

‘Have you?’

‘I’ve lost a few kilos,’ she admitted. ‘Haven’t you noticed? But it doesn’t matter. How are you?’

‘I’m OK. My wrist hurts a little, but that’s all.’

‘The doctor told me that you also have a concussion. I was so worried
when they called me. It could have been a lot worse. You’re not allowed to go up on the roof ever again. We’ll hire a handyman from now on. And the doctor said you can’t go back to work for at least a week.’

‘But we’re in the middle of an investigation.’

‘That’s not important. Concussion is a serious matter, and it’s not worth taking any risks. You’ll have to stay at home and take it easy.’

‘Does Karin know?’

‘I haven’t called her yet. But I’m sure they’ll manage without you.’

As if on cue, Knutas’s mobile rang, and Jacobsson’s name appeared on the display.

‘You need to come over to the office as soon as possible. There’s a lot happening here.’

‘Like what?’

‘I’ll tell you when you get here,’ said Jacobsson impatiently. ‘Hurry up.’

Knutas could only sigh.

THE AROMA OF
grilled meat hovered over the neighbourhood. Those who hadn’t gone away on holiday were holding the obligatory outdoor barbecues this evening. On nearly every terrace and balcony, in almost every back garden, smoke was rising up from some sort of grill. Children were laughing as they played around the hedges and flowerbeds. The grown-ups were sipping wine as they sat on patio chairs, enjoying the warm summer night.

Andrea was smoking a cigarette as she sat alone on her veranda, which was shielded from view. The children were again staying with her mother. Beata had just phoned again. She was constantly calling Andrea. Of course it was because she was concerned, but she came over so often that Andrea was starting to get annoyed. Even so, she had accepted the invitation when Beata had suggested that she and John could come over to make her dinner. It wasn’t good for Andrea to be alone, Beata had insisted. As if she had a clue. Håkan would come too. He was a nervous wreck, out of his mind with worry about Stina. It was lucky that his children were also staying with relatives. His nervous state was hard on the kids, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with their unhappiness on top of his own. It was the same for Andrea. She couldn’t be strong in front of the children, so it was just as well that they were away.

The doorbell rang. She got up to open the door. There stood Håkan, awkwardly clutching a bunch of flowers in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. He looked as if he might fall apart if anyone so much as blew on him.

‘I’m sorry for losing my temper last time.’

‘That’s OK,’ she replied, giving him a hug. ‘We’re all feeling a bit off balance.’

Beata and John appeared a second later. They’d made lamb kebabs and potato salad. John took Håkan outside to put the lamb on the barbecue. Beata started bustling about the kitchen without really doing anything. She knocked a bowl of snacks on the floor, where it landed with a bang.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she cried. ‘How clumsy of me.’

Andrea was already taking the vacuum cleaner out of the cupboard. She cleaned up the mess while Beata perched on a stool at the kitchen island, holding a glass of wine and watching helplessly.

When Andrea was finished, she took Beata by the hand.

‘Come on.’

They went out to the deck, where Håkan was already seated, looking like a forlorn puppy. Andrea poured more wine for everyone, and John turned the kebabs on the rack. No one spoke for a while. They didn’t have to ask how everyone was feeling since they knew each other so well. The outburst from the last time they’d met was forgotten.

Then the kebabs were ready.

‘Here,’ said John, holding out the serving dish. They each took a kebab and helped themselves to the potato salad and Beata’s freshly baked bread.

No one commented on the food as they ate. Finally Beata broke the silence.

‘What did the police say about that horrible phone call?’ she asked Andrea.

‘They came over here, and then stayed all night in a patrol car outside. But they can’t very well give me round-the-clock protection just because of some pervert breathing down the phone.’

‘But your husband was just murdered,’ said Beata. ‘Wouldn’t that make the police take this more seriously?’

‘I think they
are
taking it seriously. They asked me whether I could stay with friends for a while.’

‘Of course you can! You can come and stay with us,’ Beata quickly replied.

Andrea dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand.

‘Thanks, but that’s not necessary. We have a really sophisticated security system. I just have to be better about turning it on when I’m at home.’

‘Who do you think made that call?’ asked John. ‘Do you think it’s somebody you know?’

‘That seems unlikely. Who would do such a thing? I think it might have to do with Sam’s death and all the media attention. As soon as your name appears in the newspapers, you run the risk of attracting all sorts of loonies.’

Andrea lit a cigarette. Normally she didn’t smoke, but right now she felt the need for some kind of drug. And she thought it was better to smoke than to resort to consoling herself with food, which would just make her fat.

‘Who the hell could it be?’ John glanced around at the others. No one had any suggestions. ‘It’s damned unpleasant, at any rate. Wouldn’t you rather come and stay with us for a while? We have plenty of room for both you and the children.’

‘Thanks, but no thanks. I really need to be alone right now.’

‘Håkan, what are the police doing about finding Stina?’ asked Beata.

‘They’re not saying much. I phone them several times a day to find out how it’s going, but they’re being really secretive about what they’re doing. Of course they’re looking for some connection between Sam’s death and Stina’s disappearance.’

‘Who have they interviewed?’ asked Beata. ‘Aside from us, I mean.’

‘I don’t know. They won’t tell me anything. But I’ve seen them knocking on doors around here, and I’m sure they’ve talked to all the neighbours.’

‘Do you know whether—?’ Beata ventured cautiously.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ Andrea interjected before Beata could finish her sentence.

HER TRIP TO
Stockholm had to be postponed. With Knutas off sick, and the discovery of the dead man in Latvia, Jacobsson couldn’t possibly take time away from work. The meeting with her daughter would have to wait.

On Sunday an investigator from the Visby police had flown to Latvia along with Valter Olsson’s sister, Märta, to identify the body. Any doubts had now been erased about whether he was the one who had drifted ashore in a rowing boat. Offshore winds had driven the boat towards the Latvian coast and the town of Ventspils, which was located right across the sea from the east coast of Fårö. Since the winds had later subsided, the boat had probably bobbed about for quite a while before it finally drifted close to land.

Kihlgård was sitting in Jacobsson’s office, ready to discuss the latest developments. He stuck his hand into a bag of crisps. The crunching sound that he made as he frenetically chewed was really getting on his colleague’s nerves.