The Return of the Dancing Master (49 page)

“I still don't believe that my father died because he used to be a Nazi. Because of something he might have done when he was a German soldier. The war ended more than fifty years ago. I think his death is somehow connected with that woman in Scotland, whose name I remember as Monica.”

Lindman decided on the spur of the moment to tell her about the discovery he had made in Wetterstedt's apartment in Kalmar. He didn't know why. Perhaps to establish the fact that they had a secret to share and that both their fathers had been Nazis. He told her without saying how he'd made the discovery, without saying that he'd broken into the apartment and found out by accident. He told her about the network, and the foundation called Strong Sweden. About all the dead as well as the living who made contributions to the organization.

“I still don't know enough,” he said in conclusion. “Perhaps that organization is just a small part of something much bigger? I'm not so naive that I think there might be a worldwide Nazi conspiracy, but it's clear that Nazi ideas are alive and well. When all this is over I'll talk to
my boss in BorÃ¥s. There must be grounds for the security services to look into this in earnest.”

She listened intently to what he had to say.

“You're doing the right thing,” she said eventually. “I would have done the same.”

“We've got to fight against this lunacy,” he said. “Even if these people are harboring a hopeless dream, they are spreading the madness further into the world.”

She looked at her watch.

“I know you have to get your brother,” Lindman said. “Just answer me one question. Why did you let me sleep here?”

She put her hand on her computer.

“I said that this thing contains my entire life. That's not really true, of course.”

Lindman stared at her hand and the computer. He was listening to what she was saying, but it was an image that imprinted itself on his mind. She removed her hand and the image disappeared.

“I'll go now. What time's the funeral tomorrow?”

“Eleven o'clock.”

He turned and walked to the door. He was about to open it when he felt her hand on his arm.

“You've got to get your brother,” he said.

His cell phone rang in his jacket pocket.

“You'd better answer.”

It was Larsson. “Where are you?”

“At the hotel.”

“Something very odd has happened.”

“What?”

“Berggren has called Erik. She wants him to pick her up.”

“why?”

“She says she wants to confess to the murder of Abraham Andersson.”

It was 2:25. Monday, November 15.

L
arsson called at 6 P.M. and asked Lindman to come to Johansson's office. It was cold and windy when he left the hotel. When he reached the church he stopped and turned around quickly. A car went by along Fjallvagen, followed by another. He thought he could make out a shadowy figure next to the wall of the building opposite the school, but he wasn't sure. He continued to the community center. Larsson was waiting for him outside the entrance. They went to the office. Lindman noticed that there were two extra chairs—one for Berggren, he assumed, and the other for her lawyer.

“They're on the way to Ostersund now,” Larsson said. “She's under arrest, and will be remanded into custody tomorrow. Erik is with her.”

“What did she say?”

Larsson pointed at a tape recorder on the desk.

“A tape of the interrogation is on its way to Ostersund,” he said, “but I had two tape recorders. I thought you might like to hear the copy. You'll be on your own here. I have to get something to eat, and rest for a little while.”

“You can borrow my hotel room if you like.”

“There's a sofa in the other room. That'll do.”

“I don't need to listen to the tape. You can tell me what happened.”

Larsson sat in Johansson's chair. He scratched at his forehead, as if he suddenly had an itch.

“I'd rather you listened to it.”

“Did she confess?”

“Yes.”

“The motive?”

“I think you should listen to the tape. And then tell me what you think.”

“You are not convinced?”

“I don't know what I am. That's why I want to hear your reaction.”

Larsson stood up. “Still no sign of Hereira,” he said. “We haven't found the red Ford either. Nor the man who did the shooting. But we will in the end. I'll be back here in two hours.”

Larsson put on his jacket.

“She sat on that chair,” he said, pointing. “Her lawyer, Hermansson, was in that one. She'd called him this morning. He was already here when we went to pick her up.”

Larsson closed the door behind him. Lindman turned on the tape recorder. There was a scraping noise as a microphone was being moved. Then he heard Larsson's voice.

 

GL: So, we are commencing this interrogation and note that today is November 15, 1999. The time is 15:07. The interrogation is being conducted at the police station in Sveg by Detective Inspector Giuseppe Larsson. The witness is Inspector Erik Johansson. The interrogation of Elsa Berggren is being held at her own request. She is being represented by her lawyer, Sven Hermansson. Would you please give us your name and personal details?

 

EB: My name is Elsa Maria Berggren, born May 10, 1925, in Tranas.

 

GL: Could you speak a bit louder, please?

 

EB: My name is Elsa Maria Berggren, born May 10, 1925, in Tranås.

 

GL: Thank you. Could we have your full identity number, please?

 

EB: 250510-0221.

 

GL: Thank you.
(More scraping from the microphone, somebody coughed, a door closed.)
So, if you could just move a bit closer to the microphone.... Now, please tell us what happened.

 

EB: I want to confess to the murder of Abraham Andersson.

 

GL: You are confessing to killing Abraham Andersson with intent?

 

EB: Yes.

 

GL: So it was murder, is that correct?

 

EB: Yes.

GL: Did you consult with your lawyer before saying this?

 

EB: There's nothing to consult about. I admit to having killed him with premeditation. Isn't that what it's called?

 

GL: That's what they usually say, yes.

 

EB: Then I admit to having murdered Abraham Andersson with premeditation.

 

GL: So you are confessing to having committed murder?

 

EB: How many times do I have to repeat it?

 

GL: Why did you kill him?

 

EB: He threatened to expose Herbert Molin, the man living nearby who was killed shortly beforehand as a former National Socialist. I didn't want that. He also threatened to expose me as a convinced National Socialist. And he also committed blackmail.

 

GL: Against you?

 

EB: No, Herbert Molin. He demanded money from him every month.

 

GL: How long had that been going on?

 

EB: Since a year or so after Herbert moved here. Eight or nine years, I suppose.

 

GL: Are we talking about a lot of money?

 

EB: I don't know. No doubt it was a lot of money for Herbert.

 

GL: When did you decide to kill Andersson?

 

EB: I can't remember the exact date, but after Herbert was killed he contacted me and said he expected me to continue with the payments. Otherwise he would expose me as well.

 

GL: What happened then?

 

EB: He came to my house without calling first and was very rude. He demanded money. That was no doubt when I made up my mind.

 

GL: Made up your mind to do what?

 

EB: Why do I have to keep repeating everything?

 

GL: You mean you made up your mind to kill him?

EB: Yes.

 

GL: Then what happened?

 

EB: I killed him a few days later. Can I have a glass of water?

 

GL: Of course....
(More scraping noises from the microphone, somebody stood up, then the voices started again. Lindman could see it all unfolding in front of him. Johansson was no doubt sitting closest to the table where there were several glasses and an open bottle of mineral water, and he filled a glass and passed it to her.)
So, you killed him.

 

EB: That's what I'm sitting here telling you.

 

GL: Can you tell us how it happened?

 

EB: I drove to his place in the evening. I took my shotgun with me. I threatened to kill him if he didn't stop trying to blackmail me. He didn't think I was serious, so I forced him to walk out into the trees not far from the house and shot him.

 

GL: You shot him?

 

EB: I shot him through the heart.

 

GL: So you have a shotgun?

 

EB: For God's sake.... What do you expect me to have owned? A machine gun? I've already said that I had a shotgun with me.

 

GL: Is it a weapon you keep at home? Is it licensed?

 

EB: I don't have a license. I bought it in Norway a few years ago, and brought it to Sweden illegally.

 

GL: Where is it now?

 

EB: At the bottom of the Ljusnan River.

 

GL: So you threw the gun into the river immediately after shooting Abraham Andersson?

 

EB: I could hardly have done it beforehand, could I?

 

GL: No, I suppose not. But I have to ask you to answer my questions clearly and directly, without making unnecessary comments.

 

 

GL: Can you say where you threw the gun into the river?

 

EB: From the bridge here in Sveg.

 

GL: Which one?

 

EB: The old one.

 

GL: From which side?

 

EB: The side facing the town. I was standing in the middle of the bridge.

 

GL: Did you throw the gun or drop it into the water?

 

EB: I'm not sure. I suppose I dropped it.

 

GL: Let me change direction for a moment. A few days ago you were attacked in your home by a masked man wanting to know who had killed Abraham Andersson. Is there anything you said at that time that you wish to change now?

 

EB: No.

 

GL: So you didn't make that up to throw us off the trail?

EB: It happened exactly as I said it did at the time. Besides, that pale-looking policeman from Borås ... what's his name? Lindgren . . . he was also attacked outside my house.

 

GL: Lindman. Do you have a plausible explanation for what happened? For why the man who attacked you wanted to know who killed Abraham Andersson?

 

EB: Perhaps he was feeling some kind of guilt.

 

GB: For what?

 

EB: Because the murder of Herbert might have led to the murder of Abraham Andersson.

 

GL: So he was right, wasn't he?

 

EB: Yes. But what did he know? Who is he?

GL: Could it have been then that you decided you should confess?

 

EB: That obviously played a part in it.

 

GL: Okay, we'll leave that alone for the moment. Let's go back to what happened at Andersson's place. You said that you—and I'm quoting you word for word, I wrote it down—“forced him to walk out into the trees not far from the house and shot him.” Is that correct?

 

EB: Yes.

 

GL: Can you describe in detail exactly what happened?

EB: I stuck the gun in his back and told him to start walking. We stopped when we came into the trees. I stood in front of him and asked him one last time if he realized that I was deadly serious. He just laughed. So I shot him.

 

 

Lindman understood why. There was something wrong here. It was pitch-black in the forest. How had she been able to see anything? In addition, Andersson was tied to a tree when he died. Or at least the police had assumed that he was still alive when he'd been tied to the tree. Lindman suspected that Larsson was beginning to wonder about Berggren's confession, and was asking himself how to proceed. He was probably trying to recall what had been published in the media, and what was known only to the police.

 

GL: So you shot him from in front?

 

EB: Yes.

 

GL: Can you say roughly how far away from him you were?