The Drowning (22 page)

‘Do you think someone came over to see him in person?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Patrik shook his head. ‘The neighbours had a good view of the house. They were eating breakfast when Magnus left. Of course it’s possible that they might have missed seeing someone who rang the doorbell, but they were quite confident they hadn’t.’

‘What about his email?’

Again Patrik shook his head. ‘Cia gave us permission to look through his computer, but there were no emails that aroused any interest.’

They drove in silence for a while, both of them lost in thought. What could have happened to make Magnus Kjellner disappear one day without a trace, only to turn up three months later, his body frozen in the ice? What actually happened on that morning?

Foolishly, Erica had decided to walk. In her mind, the distance between her house in Sälvik and her destination had seemed no more than a stone’s throw away. But it seemed it would have to have been a world-record-breaking stone’s throw.

Erica pressed a hand to the small of her back as she paused to catch her breath. She looked in the direction of the Ocean View Development office, which was still a long way off. But she’d have just as far to go if she turned around and went back home, so she could either sit down here in the snowdrift or just push on.

Ten minutes later, feeling exhausted, she stepped inside the office. She hadn’t phoned in advance, thinking that she might win an advantage by making a surprise visit. She had made sure that Erik’s car wasn’t parked outside. Kenneth was the one she wanted to talk to. Preferably without being interrupted.

‘Hello?’ No one seemed to have heard the door close behind her, so she made her way further inside. It appeared to be an ordinary house that had been converted into office space. A large section of the ground floor now had an open-floor plan, and the walls were lined with shelves holding three-ring binders. There were also large posters of the structures the company had built, and a desk stood at either end of the room. Kenneth was sitting at one of them. He seemed unaware of Erica’s presence, because he carried on staring straight ahead, without moving.

‘Hello?’ she tried again.

Kenneth gave a start. ‘Oh, hello! I’m sorry, but I didn’t hear you come in.’ He got up and came towards her. ‘Erica Falck, if I’m not mistaken.’

‘That’s right.’ She shook hands with him and smiled. Kenneth noticed that she was eagerly eyeing one of the visitor’s chairs, and he motioned for her to have a seat.

‘Please sit down. It must be difficult carrying around the extra weight. Looks like your due date must be pretty soon.’

Erica gratefully leaned back in the chair, feeling the pressure ease in her back.

‘I’ve still got a little while to go. But I’m having twins,’ she said, looking a bit surprised by her own words.

‘In that case, you’re certainly going to be busy,’ said Kenneth kindly, sitting down next to her. ‘Are you in the market for a new house?’

Erica was startled by the way his face looked when she saw him up close, in the light from the nearby lamp. He looked tired and haggard. ‘Hunted’ was actually the word she was looking for. Suddenly she remembered hearing that his wife was seriously ill. She resisted the impulse to put her hand over his, suspecting that he might not appreciate such a gesture of sympathy. But she couldn’t help saying something. His sorrow and fatigue were so obvious, so deeply etched into the lines of his face.

‘How is your wife doing?’ Erica asked, hoping he wouldn’t be offended by the question.

‘Things are bad. She’s not doing well at all.’

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then Kenneth sat up straight and attempted a smile, although it didn’t hide the pain he was feeling.

‘So, are you and Patrik thinking about a new house? The one you have is really very nice. But no matter what, Erik is really the one you and your husband need to talk to. I handle the finances and the account books, and I’m not much of a talker. But Erik will be here after lunch, I think, so if you’d like to come back then …’

‘No, I’m not here about buying a house.’

‘Oh? Then why exactly are you here?’

Erica hesitated. Why the hell did she have to be so
curious that she couldn’t help sticking her nose in everybody else’s business? How was she going to explain this?

‘I suppose you’ve heard about Magnus Kjellner? That his body was found?’ she began.

Kenneth’s face turned a shade greyer as he nodded.

‘And as I understand it, the two of you saw quite a lot of each other. Is that right?’

‘Why are you asking me about this?’ said Kenneth, his expression suddenly wary.

‘I just …’ Erica searched for a good explanation but didn’t find one. She’d have to settle for telling a lie. ‘Did you read what it said in the newspapers about the threatening letters that Christian Thydell has received?’

Kenneth nodded, still looking circumspect. Something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone so fast that Erica wasn’t even sure she’d seen anything.

‘Christian is my friend, and I want to help him,’ she went on. ‘I think there’s a connection between the threats he’s been receiving and what happened to Magnus.’

‘What sort of connection?’ asked Kenneth, leaning forward.

‘I can’t go into that right now,’ she said evasively. ‘But it would really help if you could tell me a little about Magnus. Did he have any enemies? Is there anyone who might have wanted to harm him?’

‘No, that doesn’t seem at all likely.’ Kenneth leaned back in his chair again. His whole posture signalled his unwillingness to continue with this topic.

‘How long have you known each other?’ Erica was trying to steer the conversation towards less charged territory. Sometimes it was best to take a roundabout approach.

And it worked. Kenneth seemed to relax. ‘In principle, our whole lives. We’re the same age, so we were in the same class in grade school and also in secondary school. The three of us have always been friends.’

‘The three of you? You mean you, Magnus, and Erik Lind?’

‘Yes, that’s right. If we’d first met as adults, I don’t think we would have become friends, but Fjällbacka is so small, and we more or less grew up together, so we’ve always stayed in touch. When Erik lived in Göteborg, we didn’t see much of him, but since he moved back here we’ve seen rather a good deal of each other, getting together with our families. Out of habit, I suppose.’

‘Would you say that the three of you are close?’

Kenneth paused to think, glancing out of the window and staring across the ice before he answered. ‘No, I wouldn’t say that. Erik and I work together, of course, so we have a lot of contact with each other. But we’re not close friends. I don’t think anyone is close to Erik. And Magnus and I were so different. I don’t have a bad word to say about Magnus; I don’t think anyone does. We always got on well together, but we’ve never been what you’d call confidants. In that sense, it was Magnus and the newcomer in the group, Christian, who spent the most time together.’

‘How did Christian come into the picture?’

‘I don’t really know. Magnus was the one who decided to include him and Sanna, right after Christian moved here. After that, he became a regular.’

‘Do you know anything about his background?’

‘No,’ he said and then fell silent for a moment. ‘Now that you mention it … I really know nothing about what he did before he moved to Fjällbacka. We never talked about it.’ Kenneth seemed surprised by what he’d said.

‘How do you and Erik get along with Christian?’

‘He’s a bit difficult to get to know, and he can be really gloomy. But he’s a nice guy, and if he just has a couple of glasses of wine, he loosens up and we usually have a great time.’

‘Do you think he’s seemed stressed lately? Worried about anything?’

‘Christian, you mean?’ Again a flash of something in Kenneth’s eyes, but it disappeared so quickly.

‘Yes. He’s been getting these threatening letters for almost a year and a half.’

‘That long? I didn’t know that.’

‘So you and Erik haven’t noticed anything?’

He shook his head. ‘As I said, Christian is rather … complicated, you might say. It’s hard to know what’s going on inside his head. For instance, I had no idea that he was writing a book until it was just about to be published.’

‘Have you read it? It’s really creepy,’ said Erica.

Kenneth shook his head. ‘I’m not much of a reader. But I heard that the reviews have been great.’

‘Yes, really incredible,’ Erica replied. ‘But Christian didn’t tell you or Erik about the letters?’

‘No, he never mentioned them. But as I said, we’ve mostly seen each other at social events. Dinner parties, celebrations, and at New Year’s and Midsummer. Things like that. Magnus was probably the one person that Christian might have talked to.’

‘And Magnus didn’t say anything to you either?’

‘No, he didn’t.’ Kenneth got up. ‘I’m sorry, but I really need to get back to work now. Are you sure that you and Patrik wouldn’t like to consider a new house?’ He smiled and gestured towards the advertising posters on the wall.

‘We’re very comfortable where we are, but thanks. And your houses certainly are attractive.’ Erica made an effort to stand up, but with the usual awkward result. Kenneth held out his hand and helped her get to her feet.

‘Thank you.’ Erica wrapped her scarf around her neck. ‘I’m really sorry,’ she said then. ‘About your wife, I mean.
I hope that …’ She didn’t know what else to say, and Kenneth merely nodded.

Erica shivered as she stepped back out into the cold.

Christian was having a hard time concentrating. Normally he enjoyed his job at the library, but today he was finding it impossible to focus, impossible to keep his mind on anything.

Everybody who came in wanted to say something about
The Mermaid
. Some had already read the book, some were planning to read it, some had seen him on the TV talk show. And he always responded politely, thanking people for their favourable comments, and offering a brief summary of his novel for those who asked. But in reality, he just wanted to scream.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the terrible thing that had happened to Magnus. The prickling sensation had started up in his hands again, and it was spreading. To his arms, over his torso, down into his legs. At times it felt as if his whole body was itching and burning. He was having a hard time sitting still. That’s why he kept getting up to go over to the shelves, moving books that had ended up in the wrong place and straightening the spines so the books formed nice, even rows.

All of a sudden he stopped. He was standing there with one hand raised, resting on top of some books, and he was incapable of taking it down. That’s when the thoughts came, the ones that had been appearing more and more often. What was he doing here? Why was he here, in this particular place, at this particular moment? He shook his head to push the thoughts away, but they just burrowed deeper into his mind.

Someone walked by outside, going past the library entrance. He caught only a glimpse of the person, sensing a movement rather than actually seeing anything. But
the feeling that instantly came over him was the same as when he had driven home the night before. The feeling of something hostile, yet at the same time familiar.

He dashed over to the entrance and peered out in the direction the person had gone. Nobody there. No footsteps or any other sound. No one in sight. Was he imagining things? Christian pressed his fingertips to his temples. He closed his eyes and in his mind he pictured Sanna, seeing again the expression on her face when he told her what was half true and half lies. Her mouth agape, sympathy mixed with horror.

She wouldn’t be asking him any more questions. At least not for a while. And the blue dress was back upstairs in the attic, where it belonged. By revealing a little bit of the truth, he had bought himself a temporary respite. But sooner or later she would start questioning what he’d told her, looking for answers and the part of the story that he hadn’t wanted to tell. That part had to stay buried. There was no other option.

He still had his eyes closed when he heard someone clearing their throat. Christian opened his eyes.

‘Excuse me, but my name is Lars Olsson. I’m a reporter. I was just wondering if we could have a little chat. I’ve tried to reach you by phone, but nobody answers.’

‘I’ve switched off my mobile.’ Christian took his hands away from his temples. ‘What do you want?’

‘Yesterday a man was found frozen in the ice. Magnus Kjellner. He’s been missing since November. As I understand it, the two of you were good friends.’

‘Why are you talking to me about this?’ Christian backed away, retreating behind the library counter.

‘It seems a strange coincidence, don’t you think? The fact that you’ve been receiving threats for a long period of time, and then one of your closest friends is found dead? We’ve also learned that he was most likely murdered.’

‘Murdered?’ said Christian, hiding his hands under the counter. They were shaking badly.

‘Yes, there were wounds on the body that indicate he was the victim of an attack. Do you know whether Magnus Kjellner had also been threatened? Or who might have sent those letters to you?’ The journalist was using an aggressive tone of voice, leaving no doubt that he expected Christian to answer.

‘I know nothing about that. Nothing at all.’

‘But it seems that somebody is fixated on you, and then it’s not a big leap to assume that people close to you might be targeted too. Has anyone in your family been threatened in any way?’

All Christian could do was mutely shake his head. Images began crowding into his mind, and he swiftly pushed them away. He couldn’t allow them to take over.

‘From what I understand, the threats began arriving before all the media attention started when your book came out. So that seems to indicate this is a personal matter. Do you have any comment about that?’

Again Christian shook his head, this time even more vigorously. He was clenching his jaw so tight that his face felt like a frozen mask. He wanted to run away from all these questions, stop thinking about her and the fact that, after so many years, she had finally caught up with him. He refused to let her in again. At the same time, he knew it was too late. She was already here; he couldn’t escape. Maybe he had never actually been able to flee.