The Preacher (26 page)

She didn’t seem concerned about whether Patrik and Martin might hear what she said. She came waddling back to the kitchen and calmly sat down in her place.

Groggy with sleep, Stefan and Robert came out dressed only in their underpants.

‘These guys don’t ever quit, do they? It’s starting to look like harassment to me,’ said Robert. He was as cool as ever.

Stefan peered at them from under the shock of hair hanging in his eyes. He reached for a packet of cigarettes on the table and lit one, dribbling the ash nervously until Robert hissed at him to stop.

Martin wondered how his colleague would deal with this sensitive matter. He was still pretty sure that Patrik was out tilting at windmills.

‘We have a few questions regarding your husband’s death.’

Solveig and her sons stared at Patrik in astonishment.

‘Johannes’s death? Why? He hanged himself, and there isn’t much more to say about it. Except that it was people like you who drove him to it!’

Robert angrily hushed his mother. He glowered at Patrik. ‘What is it you’re after, anyway? Mamma’s right. He hanged himself, and that’s all there is to say.’

‘We just want to get everything clarified. You were the one who found him?’

Robert nodded. ‘Yes, and I’ll have to live with that image for the rest of my life.’

‘Could you tell us exactly what happened that day?’

‘I don’t see what good that would do,’ said Robert sourly.

‘I’d still appreciate it if you’d tell us,’ Patrik cajoled him, and after waiting a moment he received an indifferent shrug in reply.

‘Well, if it’ll give you something to work on, then…’ Like his brother he lit a cigarette. The smoke now hovered in a thick cloud over a corner of the kitchen.

‘I came home after school and went out in the yard to play for a while. I saw that the door to the barn was open and I got curious. I went over to check. It was dark in there, as usual. The only light was whatever seeped through the slats. It smelled like hay.’ Robert looked as though he’d dis appeared into his own private world. He went on, ‘Something wasn’t right.’ He paused. ‘I can’t really describe it, but it felt different.’

Stefan was watching his brother in fascination. Martin got the impression that it was the first time he’d ever heard in detail about the day his father hanged himself.

Robert continued. ‘I crept farther inside, pretending that I was sneaking up on Indians. Ever so quietly I tiptoed over to the hayloft, and when I got a few steps into the barn I saw that something was lying on the ground. I went up to it. When I saw that it was Pappa I was happy. I thought he was playing a joke on me. I thought that I was supposed to go over to him and then he would jump up and start tickling me or something.’ Robert swallowed hard. ‘But he didn’t move. I poked at him with my foot, but he was completely still. Then I saw that he had a rope round his neck. When I looked up I saw that a piece of rope was hanging from the roof-beam too.’

His hand holding the cigarette was trembling. Martin cast a glance at Patrik to see how he reacted to the story. It was quite obvious to him that Robert was not making this up. Robert’s pain was so palpable that Martin felt that he could reach out his hand and touch it. He saw that his colleague was thinking the same thing.

Downhearted, Patrik continued. ‘Then what did you do?’

Robert blew a smoke ring and watched as it disintegrated and vanished.

‘I went to get Mamma, of course. She came out to the barn and started shrieking so loud I thought my eardrums were going to burst. Then she rang Grandpa.’

Patrik was taken aback. ‘Not the police?’

Solveig scratched nervously on the tablecloth and said, ‘No, I called Ephraim. That was the first thing that occurred to me.’

‘So the police never came here?’

‘No, Ephraim took care of everything. He rang Dr Hammarström, who was the district doctor in those days, and he came over and examined Johannes. Then the doctor wrote up one of those certificates about the cause of death, or whatever it’s called, and saw to it that the undertaker came and took him away.’

‘But no police?’ Patrik persisted.

‘No, I told you that. Ephraim took care of everything. Dr Hammarström certainly talked to the police, but they never came out here. Why should they? It was suicide!’

Patrik chose not to explain that the police always have to be called to the scene of a suicide. Obviously Ephraim Hult and this Dr Hammarström had decided on their own authority not to contact the police before the body was removed from the scene. The question was: why? In any case, it was clear that they weren’t going to get any farther right now. But Martin had an idea.

‘You haven’t seen a young woman here in this area? Twenty-five, brown hair, normal build.’

Robert laughed. The serious nature of his story had not left any traces in his voice. ‘Considering how many chicks run around here, you’ll have to be a bit more specific.’

Stefan was watching them intently. He said to Robert, ‘You saw a picture of her. She’s the one on the newspaper placards. The German tourist they found with the other girls.’

Solveig reacted explosively. ‘What the hell are you talking about? Why would she have been here? Are you going to drag us through the mud all over again? First, you accuse Johannes of abducting some girls and now you come here and ask my boys incriminating questions. Get out! I don’t ever want to see you here again! Go to hell!’

She stood up and hustled them out with the sheer force of her huge body. Robert laughed, but Stefan looked pensive.

When Solveig returned, snorting after slamming the door behind Martin and Patrik, Stefan went back into the bedroom again without a word. He pulled the covers over his head and pretended to sleep. There was something he needed to think about.

Anna felt miserable as she sat on the luxurious sailboat. Gustav had agreed without question to set sail immediately and leave her in peace in the bow, where she was sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees. With a magnanimous air he had accepted her excuses and promised to take her and the children to Strömstad. From there they could take the train home.

Her whole life had been nothing but a constant bloody chaos. The injustice of Erica’s words made her eyes sting with tears of anger, but her rage was mixed with sorrow that they kept ending up on a collision course. Everything was so complicated with Erica. She was never content to be the big sister – to offer advice and encouraging remarks. Instead she’d taken it upon herself to play the role of mother without understanding that it only increased the vacuum left behind by the maternal support they should have had.

Unlike Erica, Anna had never blamed Elsy for the indifference she had displayed towards her daughters. Or at least Anna had believed that she’d accepted it as one of the hard facts of life. But when both their parents had suddenly died, Anna realized that she had always hoped that Elsy would soften with the years and step into the maternal role. It would have given Erica more space to simply be the sister. But when their mother died the two sisters became stuck in roles that neither of them knew how to change. Periods of tacit peace were inevitably replaced by trench warfare, and every time that happened, a part of Anna’s soul was torn from her body.

At the same time Erica and the children were all she had now. Even though Anna hadn’t wanted to admit it to Erica, she did see Gustav for what he was – a superficial, spoiled little boy. And yet she couldn’t withstand the temptation; it was a boost to her self-esteem to show up with a man like Gustav. On his arm she became visible. People whispered and wondered who she was. Women gave approving looks to the lovely designer clothes that Gustav showered on her. Even out on the water, people would turn and point at the magnifi cent sailboat, and she felt a foolish pride as she lay on the bow like a bathing beauty.

But at other times she was ashamed to realize that it was the children who had to pay the price for her need for re assurance. They had already put up with too much during the years with their father, and Anna couldn’t in good conscience claim that Gustav was a decent substitute for a father. He was stern and impatient with the children, and she was reluctant to leave them alone with him.

Sometimes she felt so envious of Erica that she could throw up. While Anna was in the middle of a fierce custody battle with Lucas, having difficulties making ends meet, and involved in what was (to be quite honest) an empty relationship, Erica sailed forth like a pregnant madonna. The man Erica had chosen to be the father of her child was precisely the sort of man that Anna herself needed to be happy. But she kept going for the wrong types out of sheer self-destruction. Erica was now living a financially trouble-free life and even enjoying a certain celebrity status. And that made the envious little demons of sibling rivalry reappear. Anna didn’t want to be petty, but it was hard to resist feeling bitter when her own life was painted only in dull grey hues.

The excited shrieks of the children followed by Gustav’s frustrated wailing snapped her out of her self-pity and brought her back to reality. She pulled her sailing jacket tighter and walked carefully along the railing back to the stern. After getting the children to calm down, she forced herself to smile at Gustav. Even when you had a lousy hand you had to play the cards you were dealt.

Like so many times before, Laine wandered about in the big house. Gabriel was gone on another of his business trips, and she was alone. The meeting with Solveig had left a nasty taste in her mouth, and again she felt the hopelessness of the situation. She would never be free. Solveig’s filthy, distorted world clung to her like a bad smell.

She stopped in front of the stairs leading to the top floor in the left wing of the manor house. Ephraim’s floor. Laine hadn’t been up there since he died, or many times before that either. It had always been Jacob’s domain, and occasionally Gabriel’s as well. Ephraim had sat up there and held audiences for the men, like a feudal lord. Women in his world had been mere shadow figures, assigned to please and look after the ground-floor service facilities.

Hesitantly she climbed the stairs. She stopped in front of the door. Then she resolutely pushed it open. The flat looked exactly as she remembered it. An air of masculinity still hovered over the silent rooms. It was here that her son had spent so many hours of his childhood. She had been so jealous. In comparison with grandfather Ephraim, both she and Gabriel had come up short. To Jacob they had seemed ordinary, sad, and deadly dull, while he viewed Ephraim as practically divine in status. When he died so suddenly, shock had been Jacob’s first reaction. How could Ephraim simply disappear like that? Here one day, gone the next. He had seemed like an impregnable fortress, an ineradicable fact.

Laine was ashamed to admit it, but when she heard that Ephraim was dead, relief was the first emotion she felt. But also a kind of triumphant joy that not even he could control the laws of nature. Sometimes she had even doubted his mortality. He had seemed so sure that he could manipulate and influence even God.

Ephraim’s armchair stood by the window, with a view of the forest outside. Just like Jacob, she couldn’t resist the temptation to sit in his chair, and for a moment she thought she felt his spirit in the room. Her fingers pensively traced the seams of the upholstery.

The story about Johannes and Gabriel’s ability to heal had affected Jacob. She had not approved. Sometimes he would come downstairs with a trance-like look on his face. It always frightened her. Then she would give her son a big hug and press his face to her body until she felt him relax. When she released him everything would return to normal. Until the next time.

But now the old man was long dead and buried. Thank God.

‘Do you really think there’s anything to your theory? That Johannes might not be dead?’

‘I don’t know, Martin,’ said Patrik as he drove. ‘But right now I’m prepared to grasp at any straw I can find. You have to admit it’s a bit strange that the police were not allowed to see his body at the scene of the suicide.’

‘I know, but that presumes that both the doctor and the undertaker were in on it,’ said Martin.

‘It’s not as far-fetched as it sounds. Don’t forget that Ephraim was very well-to-do. Money has bought far greater services. And I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew each other well. All of them prominent men in the community, certainly active in fraternal associations, the Lions, the chamber of commerce, you name it.’

‘But helping a murder suspect to flee?’

‘Not a murder suspect, a kidnapping suspect. From what I understand, Ephraim Hult was also a man with great persuasive powers. Maybe he talked them into believing that Johannes was innocent, but that the police were out to put him away, and this was the only way to save him.’

‘But still. Would Johannes leave his family adrift like that? With two young sons?’

‘Don’t forget how Johannes has been described. A player, a man who always followed the path of least resistance. Someone who took a dim view of rules and commitments. If there’s anyone who would be ready to save his own skin at the cost of his family, it’s Johannes. The scenario fits him perfectly.’

Martin was still sceptical. ‘Then where has he been all these years, if that’s the case?’

Patrik looked carefully in both directions before he turned left towards Tanumshede. He said, ‘Abroad perhaps. With plenty of his Pappa’s money in his pocket.’ He looked at Martin. ‘You don’t seem very convinced of the brilliance of my theory.’

Martin laughed. ‘No, you can say that again. I think it sounds totally off the wall, but on the other hand nothing has been particularly logical about this case so far, so why not?’

Patrik turned serious. ‘I keep seeing Jenny Möller in my mind. Held captive somewhere, by someone who’s torturing her. It’s because of her that I’m trying to think outside the box. We can’t afford to be as conventional as we normally are. There’s not enough time for that. We have to consider what’s even highly implausible. It’s possible that this is only a crazy idea on my part, but I haven’t found anything yet to convince me otherwise. I owe it to the Möller girl to investigate all avenues, even if I’m declared an idiot as a result.’