Buried Angels (8 page)

‘They probably set the house on fire themselves. To get the insurance money,’ said Mellberg.

‘I’m looking into their finances,’ said Martin, who was sitting next to Annika. He seemed unusually subdued. ‘I should have something to report by tomorrow morning.’

‘Good. I’m sure that will solve the mystery. Most likely they found out it was going to cost too much to renovate that old eyesore, so they decided it would make more sense to burn it down. I saw a lot of that during my days in Göteborg.’

‘As I said, we’re not going to lock ourselves into any specific theory at the moment,’ said Patrik. ‘Now I think we should let Gösta tell us what he remembers.’

He sat down and nodded for Gösta to begin. What Erica had told him during their boat trip through the archipelago was fascinating. Now he wanted to hear what Gösta could tell them about the old investigation.

‘I’m sure that all of you are familiar with the case, but if you don’t mind I’ll start from the beginning.’ Gösta looked around, and everybody seated at the table nodded their agreement.

‘On 13 April 1974, the night before Easter Sunday, somebody rang the police in Tanum and told them to come out to the boarding school on Valö. The caller hung up before explaining what had happened. The old police chief took the call, and according to him, it was impossible to tell whether the informant was male or female.’ Gösta paused for a moment as in his mind he was carried back to that time in the past. ‘My colleague Henry Ljung and I were told to head out there and find out what was going on. Half an hour later we arrived on the scene and found something strange. The table in the dining room was set for Easter lunch and the food had been partially eaten, but there was no trace of the family that lived there. The only person present was a one-year-old girl, Ebba, who was toddling around all alone. It was as if the rest of the family had gone up in smoke. As if they’d stood up in the middle of the meal and vanished.’

‘Poof!’ said Mellberg. Gösta gave him a withering glare.

‘Where were all the pupils?’ asked Martin.

‘Since it was the Easter holiday, most of them had gone home to their families. Only a few were still on Valö, and they were nowhere in sight when we arrived, but after a while five boys turned up on a boat. They said they’d been out fishing for a couple of hours. During the following weeks, we questioned them intensely, but they didn’t know anything about what happened to the family. I talked to them myself, and they all said the same thing: they hadn’t been invited to the family’s Easter lunch, so they’d gone out fishing instead. When they left, everything was perfectly normal.’

‘Was the family’s boat still tied to the dock?’ asked Patrik.

‘Yes. And we went over the island with a fine-tooth comb, but there was no trace of them.’ Gösta shook his head.

‘How many people are we talking about?’ Against his will, Mellberg’s curiosity had been aroused, and he was leaning forward to listen.

‘There were two adults and four children in the family. One of the children was little Ebba, of course. So the adults and three children disappeared.’ Gösta turned to write on the whiteboard. ‘The father, Rune Elvander, was the headmaster of the school. He was a former military man, and it was his idea to establish a school for boys whose parents set high standards for education, combined with strict discipline. First-class teaching, character-building rules, and invigorating outdoor activities for well-to-do boys. That was how the school was described in the brochure, if I remember correctly.’

‘Jesus, that sounds like something out of the 1920s,’ said Mellberg.

‘There have always been parents who long for the good old days, and that was exactly what Rune Elvander offered,’ said Gösta, and then resumed his report. ‘Ebba’s mother was named Inez. She was twenty-three years old at the time of her disappearance, significantly younger than Rune, who was in his fifties. Rune also had three children from a previous marriage: Claes, who was nineteen; Annelie, who was sixteen; and Johan, who was nine. Their mother, Carla, died a year before Rune remarried. According to the five pupils, there seemed to be a number of problems in the family, but that was all we managed to get out of them.’

‘How many pupils were attending the boarding school when they weren’t away on holiday?’ asked Martin.

‘It varied a bit, but about twenty. In addition to Rune, there were two other teachers, but they’d gone home for Easter.’

‘And I assume they had alibis for the time the family disappeared, right?’ Patrik said, looking at Gösta.

‘Yes, they did. One of them was visiting relatives in Stockholm to celebrate Easter. At first we were a little suspicious of the other teacher, because he kept making excuses and didn’t want to tell us where he’d been. But it turned out that he’d gone off with a boyfriend to some sunny holiday destination, and that was the reason for all the secrecy. He didn’t want anyone to find out that he was gay. He’d been so careful to hide the fact at school.’

‘What about the students who’d gone home for the holidays? Did you check up on all of them?’ asked Patrik.

‘Every single one of them. And their families confirmed that the boys had spent Easter at home and hadn’t been anywhere near the island. And by the way, all of the parents seemed pleased with the effect that the school was having on their children. They were extremely upset that they wouldn’t be able to send them back to the boarding school. I had the impression that many of the parents considered it bothersome having the boys at home even for the holiday.’

‘Okay. And you didn’t find any physical evidence to indicate what might have happened to the family?’

Gösta shook his head. ‘Of course, we didn’t have the equipment and the expertise that’s available today, so that factored into the technical investigation. But everybody did the best they could, and there was nothing. Or rather: we found nothing. But I’ve always had a feeling that we missed something, though I could never put my finger on what that might be.’

‘What happened to the little girl?’ asked Annika, whose heart went out to any child in trouble.

‘There were no living relatives, so Ebba was placed with a foster family in Göteborg. As far as I know, they later adopted her.’ Gösta paused for a moment, looking down at his hands. ‘I have to say that we did a good job. We investigated every possible lead and tried to form some idea of a motive. We poked around in Rune’s past but found no skeletons in the closet. We knocked on doors all over Fjällbacka, to find out if anyone had seen anything out of the ordinary. We tackled the case from every imaginable angle, but never made any headway. Without proof, it was impossible to work out whether they’d been murdered or kidnapped or had simply left voluntarily.’

‘Fascinating,’ said Mellberg, clearing his throat. ‘But I still don’t understand why we need to revive this old case. There’s no reason to complicate matters unnecessarily. Either this Ebba and her husband set the fire themselves, or some kids decided to get up to mischief.’

‘Don’t you think it seems to involve more sophisticated planning than the sort of thing a bunch of bored teenagers would do?’ said Patrik. ‘If they wanted to burn down a building, it would be a lot simpler to start a fire in town than to go out to Valö in a boat. And as we mentioned, Martin is looking into whether this might have involved insurance fraud. But the more I hear about the old case, the stronger my gut feeling is that the fire is connected to what happened when that family disappeared.’

‘You and your gut feelings,’ said Mellberg. ‘There’s nothing concrete that points to a connection. I know that you’ve been right a few times in the past, but in this instance, I reckon you’re way off the mark.’ Mellberg got up, clearly pleased at delivering what he considered the truth of the day.

Patrik shrugged, letting his boss’s remarks roll right off him. He’d long since stopped taking Mellberg’s opinion into consideration. In fact, he’d never really bothered with Mellberg’s view. So he assigned the various tasks to his colleagues and ended the meeting.

On his way out of the room, Martin pulled Patrik aside.

‘Could I have the afternoon off? I know it’s short notice, but …’

‘Sure, of course you can if it’s important. What’s it about?’

Martin hesitated. ‘It’s a personal matter. I’d rather not talk about it just now. Is that okay?’

There was something in his tone of voice that stopped Patrik from asking any more questions, but he was hurt that Martin didn’t want to confide in him. He thought they had formed such a close relationship during the years they’d worked together that Martin should feel comfortable telling him if anything was wrong.

‘I can’t talk about it,’ said Martin, as if he guessed what Patrik was thinking. ‘So is it okay if I leave after lunch?’

‘Of course. No problem.’

Martin gave him a faint smile and turned to go.

‘But I’m here if you want to talk,’ said Patrik.

‘I know that.’ Martin hesitated, but then headed off down the hall.

As she made her way down the stairs, Anna already knew what she’d see in the kitchen. Dan would be sitting at the table, wearing an old bathrobe and deeply engrossed in the morning newspaper, holding a cup of coffee in his hand.

When he saw her come into the room, his face lit up.

‘Good morning, sweetheart.’ He reached out for a kiss.

‘Good morning.’ Anna turned her head away. ‘I have such bad morning breath,’ she said apologetically, but the damage was done. Dan got up without a word and went over to the dishwasher to put his cup inside.

Why did it have to be so damned hard? She was always saying and doing the wrong thing. She wanted things to be good again, back to the way they used to be. She wanted to re-establish the natural relationship that they’d had before the accident.

Dan busied himself washing up the breakfast dishes, and she went over to put her arms around him, leaning her cheek against his back. But the only thing she felt in his tense body was frustration. It spread to her, making her desire for closeness disappear, at least for now. It was impossible to say whether the occasion would present itself again.

With a sigh she let go of Dan and sat down at the kitchen table.

‘I need to get back to work,’ she said, picking up a slice of bread and reaching for the butter knife.

Dan turned and leaned against the counter with his arms folded.

‘What kind of work?’

Anna hesitated before saying, ‘I’d like to run my own business.’

‘That’s a great idea! What sort of business? A shop? I could check around to see what’s available.’

Dan gave her a big smile, but somehow his eager response dampened her own enthusiasm. This was her idea, and she didn’t want to share it. She couldn’t explain why.

‘I want to do this myself,’ she said, noticing the sharp tone of her voice.

The joy instantly vanished from Dan’s face.

‘Sure, go ahead,’ he said, going back to clattering the dishes.

Shit, shit, shit. Anna silently cursed herself, clenching her hands into fists.

‘I’ve been thinking about opening a shop. But I’ll need to do all the furnishing myself, go sourcing antiques, and things like that.’ The words spilled out as she tried to recapture Dan’s attention. But he was making a lot of noise, washing the glasses and plates, and he didn’t respond. His back seemed rigid and unforgiving.

Anna set the slice of bread down on her plate. She’d lost her appetite.

‘I’m going out for a while,’ she said, getting to her feet and heading out of the kitchen to go upstairs and get dressed. Dan still didn’t say a word.

‘How nice that you could join us for a spot of lunch,’ said Pyttan.

‘A pleasure to come over here and see how the other half lives.’ Sebastian laughed and gave Percy such a hard slap on the back that he coughed.

‘Well, you’re not exactly living in poverty.’

Percy smiled to himself. Pyttan had never made it a secret what she thought of Sebastian’s ostentatious mansion with the two pools and tennis court. The house may have been smaller in size than Fygelsta manor, but it was much more lavish. ‘Money can’t buy taste,’ Pyttan used to say after they’d visited, turning up her nose at the gleaming gilded frames and the enormous crystal chandeliers. Percy was inclined to agree.

‘Come and sit down,’ he said, ushering Sebastian to the table that had been set for lunch out on the terrace. At this time of year Fygelsta was unbeatable. The beautiful park stretched as far as the eye could see. For generations it had been meticulously tended, but it wouldn’t be long before it would fall into neglect, just as the manor had done. Until he had worked out their finances, they would have to make do without gardeners.

Sebastian sat down and leaned back in his chair, his sunglasses pushed up on his forehead.

‘Some wine?’ Pyttan held out a bottle of first-class Chardonnay. Much as she disliked the thought of asking Sebastian for help, Percy knew that his wife would do her utmost to support him now that the decision had been made. It wasn’t as if they had any other option.

She filled Sebastian’s glass. Oblivious to the fact that it was her prerogative, as the hostess, to welcome her guest before he started eating, Sebastian immediately launched himself at the appetizer. He shovelled in a big forkful of shrimp salad with dill and began chewing with his mouth open. Percy saw Pyttan turn away in disgust.

‘So you’re having a little problem with your taxes, is that right?’

‘Yes, it’s a mess. I don’t know what to say.’ Percy shook his head. ‘Nothing seems sacred any more.’

‘How true. It doesn’t pay to work in this country,’ said Sebastian.

‘No, things were different in Pappa’s day.’ Percy began eating his food, after first giving Pyttan an enquiring glance. ‘You’d think people would appreciate the fact that we’ve put so much work into taking care of this cultural monument. It’s a piece of Swedish history, and our family has borne the brunt of preserving it, and we’ve done it with honour.’

‘True. But times have changed,’ said Sebastian, waving his fork. ‘The winds of social democracy have been blowing for a long time now, and it doesn’t seem to help that we’ve got a conservative government. Nobody’s allowed to have more than his neighbour. If you do, those bastards will take away everything you own. I’ve been through it all myself. Had to pay a lot in back taxes this year, but luckily only on what I have here in Sweden. You’ve got to be smart and put your assets abroad, where the tax authorities can’t get their hands on everything you’ve worked so hard to acquire.’