The Preacher (31 page)

‘What do you mean?’ Patrik looked truly baffled.

‘Maybe you forgot, but you’ve got a kid on the way in a couple of weeks. Then there won’t be much time left over for amusing yourself, you know.’

‘Oh, it’ll all work out. They sleep so much, those little babies, so we could probably squeeze in a round of golf. And Erica understands that I have to get out and do something on my own once in a while. We agreed on that when we decided to have a baby. We agreed to give each other space to do our own thing and not just be parents all the time.’

By the time Patrik finished his sentence, Martin’s eyes were filled with tears of laughter. He chuckled and shook his head at the same time.

‘Oh sure, there’ll be plenty of time for you to do your own thing. They sleep so much, those little babies,’ Martin mimicked him. That made him laugh even more.

Patrik, who knew that Martin’s sister had five kids, began to look a little worried. He wondered whether Martin knew something that he didn’t. But before he could ask, the mobile phone rang.

‘Hedström.’

‘Hello, it’s Pedersen. Is this a good time to talk?’

‘Actually, no. Hold on a second, I have to find someplace to park.’

They were just approaching the Grebbestad campground, which made a dark cloud pass across Patrik’s face. He drove another couple of hundred metres until he came to the car park at Grebbestad Wharf. There he turned in and stopped so he could talk on the mobile.

‘Now I’m parked. Have you found anything?’

He couldn’t hide the eagerness in his voice, and Martin watched him tensely. Outside, the car tourists were streaming past, going in and out of the shops and restaurants. Patrik looked with envy at their happy and unsuspecting faces.

‘Yes and no. We’re going in for a closer look now, but considering the circumstances I thought you might be glad to hear that something good has come of your exhumation order, which was somewhat hastily performed, as I understand it.’

‘Yes, I can’t deny that. I feel a bit of an idiot, so anything you’ve got would be of interest.’ Patrik held his breath.

‘First of all, we’ve checked the dental records, and the guy in the coffin is without a doubt Johannes Hult, so on that point I can’t give you anything interesting. On the other hand,’ and the pathologist couldn’t resist the temptation to pause for effect, ‘it’s pure nonsense that he was supposed to have died by hanging. His premature demise was more likely caused by something hard striking the back of his head.’

‘What the hell are you saying?’ Patrik yelled, making Martin jump. ‘What kind of hard object? Was he clubbed in the head, or what are you telling me?’

‘Something along those lines. But he’s lying on the postmortem table right now, so as soon as I know more I’ll ring you again. Until I have a chance to do a more detailed examination, that’s all I can tell you.’

‘Thank you for ringing so soon. Let me know as soon as you know more.’

Triumphantly Patrik flipped shut the lid on his phone.

‘What did he say, what did he say?’ Martin was practically dying of curiosity.

‘That I’m not a total idiot.’

‘Well, it would take a psychiatrist to confirm something like that, but what else did he say?’ replied Martin dryly since he didn’t appreciate being kept on tenterhooks.

‘He said that Johannes Hult was murdered.’

Martin bent his head forward and rubbed his face with both hands in mock despair. ‘I’m resigning from this sodding investigation. This is crazy. You’re telling me that the prime suspect for Siv and Mona’s disappearance, or death as it turns out, was himself murdered?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. And if Gabriel Hult thinks he can yell loud enough to make us stop rooting about in the family’s dirty laundry, he’s got another think coming. If there’s anything that proves they’ve got a skeleton in the closet, then this is it. One of them knows how and why Johannes was murdered, and how his death is connected to the murders of the girls, I’ll bet you that!’ He pounded his fist into his palm, indicating that the morning’s dismal events had now been replaced by renewed energy.

‘I just hope we can work it out quickly enough. For Jenny Möller’s sake,’ Martin said.

His comment acted like a bucket of cold water over Patrik’s head. He mustn’t let his competitive instinct take over. He mustn’t forget why they were doing this job. They sat for a moment and watched the people passing by. Then Patrik started the car and drove off towards the station.

Kennedy Karlsson believed that it had all started with his name. There wasn’t really much else to blame it on. Many of the other guys had good excuses; their parents drank and beat them. But he had only his name to blame, it seemed.

His mother had spent a few years in the USA after she graduated. Back then it was still a big deal if somebody in the community went to the States. But in the mid-Thirties, when his mother made the trip, a ticket to the USA was no longer one-way. There were many people who had grown children who went off to the big cities of Sweden or abroad. The only thing that was different was that if someone left the security of the little town, tongues would wag, predicting that things were bound to turn out badly. And in his mother’s case, they had more or less been right. After a couple of years in the promised land, she came back with a baby in her belly.

Kennedy Karlsson had never heard a word about his father. But even that wasn’t a good excuse. Just before he was born, his mother married Christer, and he’d been as good as a real father. No, it was all about the name. He assumed that she wanted to call attention to herself and show that she had been out in the big world, even though she came home with her tail between her legs. He would always be a reminder of that. So she never missed a chance to tell someone that her eldest son was named after John F. Kennedy, ‘because during her years in the USA she had admired that man so much’. He wondered why she couldn’t have simply named him John, in that case.

His mother and Christer had given his siblings a better fate. For them it sufficed to be called Emelie, Mikael and Thomas. Ordinary, honest Swedish names, which made him stick out even more. The fact that his father had been black didn’t make matters any better, but Kennedy didn’t believe that was what made him so odd. He was convinced it was the fucking name.

As a child he had actually looked forward to starting school. He remembered it well. The excitement, the joy, the eagerness to begin something new, to see a whole new world open up. It took only a day or two before they had pounded that enthusiasm out of him. Because of the bloody name. He soon learned what a sin it was to stick out from the crowd. A funny name, strange haircut, old-fashioned clothes, were all things that showed someone wasn’t like the others. In his case it was also regarded as an aggravating circumstance that he, according to the others, thought he was superior because he had such an odd name. As if he were the one who picked it. If he’d been able to choose, he would have wanted a typical Swedish name like Stefan or Oskar or Fredrik. Something that gave him automatic entry to the group.

His hellish first days at school went from bad to worse. The taunts, the beatings, his outsider status all made him build a wall as strong as granite around himself. Soon his actions were affected by his thoughts. All the anger he had built up inside the wall began to escape like steam from little holes that got bigger and bigger until everyone could see his anger. By then it was too late. School was lost to him, as was his family’s confidence in him. And his friends were not the sort of friends he should have had.

Kennedy himself had resigned himself to the fate that his name had bestowed upon him. ‘Problem’ was tattooed on his brow, and all he needed to do was live down to expectations. An easy but paradoxically difficult way to live.

All that changed when he reluctantly came to the farm in Bullaren. It was a condition of his probation after he was caught in the unfortunate theft of a car. At first his attitude was to offer the least possible resistance so he could get out of the place as soon as possible. Then he met Jacob. And through Jacob he met God.

But in his eyes the two were nearly the same.

It hadn’t happened through any miracle. He hadn’t heard a thundering voice from above, or seen a bolt of lightning strike at his feet to prove that God existed. Instead it happened through the hours he spent with Jacob and their conversations. Little by little, he saw the image of Jacob’s God appear. Like a puzzle that slowly takes the shape of the image shown on the outside of the box.

At first Kennedy had resisted. He ran off and carried on with his mates. He got roaring drunk and was ignominiously dragged back. The next day with an aching head he encountered Jacob’s kind gaze which always, strangely enough, seemed to lack reproach.

He had complained to Jacob about his name, explaining that his name was to blame for all the mistakes he’d made. Jacob had countered by explaining to him that his name was something positive and that was actually an indicator of how his life would go. His name was a gift, Jacob had explained. To receive from the first moment of his life such a unique identity could only mean that God had chosen him above all others. The name made him special, not odd.

With the same enthusiasm that a starving man displays at the dinner table, Kennedy had clung to Jacob’s words. Slowly it dawned on him that Jacob was right. The name was a gift. It made him special and showed that God had a specific plan for him, Kennedy Karlsson. And he had Jacob Hult to thank for finding this out before it was too late.

It bothered him that Jacob had been looking so worried lately. Kennedy hadn’t been able to avoid hearing the gossip about how the family was connected with the dead girls, and he thought he understood the reason for Jacob’s concern. He himself had felt the ill-will from a community out for blood. Now it was obviously the Hult family’s turn to be the target.

Cautiously Kennedy knocked on Jacob’s door. He thought he’d heard agitated voices coming from inside. When he opened the door Jacob was just hanging up the phone with a harried expression on his face.

‘What is it?’

‘Just a small family problem. Nothing that need concern you.’

‘Your problems are my problems, Jacob. You know that. Can’t you tell me what it is? Trust me the way I’ve trusted you.’

Jacob wearily rubbed his eyes and seemed to collapse.

‘It’s so stupid, all of it. Because of a mistake that my father made twenty-four years ago, the police have got the idea that we have something to do with the murder of that German tourist that was in all the papers.’

‘That’s terrible.’

‘Yes, and the latest news is that they dug up my uncle Johannes’s grave this morning.’

‘What? They violated the peace of the grave?’

Jacob gave him a crooked smile. A year ago Kennedy wouldn’t have understood what that meant.

‘Unfortunately, yes. The whole family is suffering. But there’s nothing we can do.’

Kennedy felt the familiar anger rising in his chest. Although it felt better now. Nowadays it was the wrath of God.

‘But can’t you report them? For harassment or something?’

Once again Jacob’s crooked, sad smile. ‘So you’re saying that your experience with the police shows that something like that would work?’

No, that was clear. His respect for cops was low, almost non-existent. He of all people could understand Jacob’s frustration.

Kennedy felt a tremendous gratitude that Jacob had chosen to share his worries with him. It was another gift that he would remember to thank God for in his evening prayers. He was just about to open his mouth to tell Jacob this when the ring of the telephone interrupted them.

‘Excuse me.’ Jacob picked up the receiver.

When he hung up several minutes later he looked even paler. From listening to half of the conversation Kennedy had gathered that it was Jacob’s father who rang. He made an effort not to look as if he’d been eagerly eavesdropping.

‘Did something happen?’

Jacob slowly put down his eyeglasses.

‘Tell me, what did he say?’ Kennedy couldn’t hide the fact that his heart was aching with anxiety and concern.

‘That was my father. The police were there asking my sister questions. My cousin Stefan rang the police and claimed that he and my sister saw the murdered girl at my farm. Just before she disappeared. God help me.’

‘God help you,’ Kennedy whispered like an echo.

They had gathered in Patrik’s office. It was crowded, but with a little effort they had all managed to squeeze in. Mellberg had offered his office, which was three times the size of the other offices, but Patrik didn’t want to move everything he had put up on the bulletin board behind his desk.

The board was full of notes and scraps of paper, and in the middle were the photos of Siv, Mona, Tanja and Jenny. Patrik was sitting on the edge of his desk, partially turned away from the others. For the first time in ages, they were all gathered in the same place: Patrik, Martin, Mellberg, Gösta, Ernst and Annika. The entire brain trust of the Tanumshede police station. All with their eyes focused on Patrik. Suddenly he felt the weight of responsibility drop onto his shoulders, and tiny beads of sweat began to form at the small of his back. He had always hated being the centre of attention, and the thought that everyone was waiting for what he had to say made his skin crawl. He cleared his throat.

‘Half an hour ago I got a call from Tord Pedersen at Forensic Medicine, who told me that the exhumation this morning was not wasted effort.’ Here he paused and permitted himself a moment of satisfaction over what he’d just said. He had not been looking forward to being the butt of jokes from his colleagues for a considerable time to come.

‘The post-mortem on Johannes Hult’s body shows that he did not hang himself. Instead it looks as though he received some sort of hard blow to the back of the head.’

A gasp went through the room. Patrik went on, aware that now he had everyone’s undivided attention. ‘So we have yet another murder, even though it’s not fresh. I thought it was time we had a meeting to go over what we know. Any questions so far?’ Silence. ‘All right. Then let’s get started.’