The Gallows Bird (16 page)

In the living room she heard her daughter prattling. Now that Anna was back on her feet, Erica could enjoy her life again.

Rose-Marie was already sitting at the table when Mellberg arrived, ten minutes late. It had turned out not to be as easy as he’d planned to brush off the trousers he had pressed under the sofa cushions. And a big clump of chewing gum had stuck to the seat; it took all his ingenuity and a very sharp knife to remove it. The fabric was a bit threadbare after applying the knife, but if he pulled down his jacket far enough she probably wouldn’t notice. He took one last glance in the glass of a framed picture to assure himself that everything was in order. Tonight he had taken special care to coil his hair artfully on top of his head. Not a bit of his shiny scalp could be seen. He thought with satisfaction that he carried his age with dignity.

He was again surprised when his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. What was it about this middle-aged and slightly podgy woman that could affect him this way? All he could think of was her eyes. They were the bluest he had ever seen, and they were even more piercing because of the reddish hue of her hair. He stared at her as if entranced, not noticing at first her outstretched hand. Then he recovered and found himself bowing in the old-fashioned way and kissing her hand. For a moment he felt like an idiot and couldn’t conceive where that impulse had come from. But then he saw that his dinner date seemed to appreciate it, and a lovely warm feeling spread through him. He still had the moves, and he knew how to do things with style.

‘How pleasant this is. I’ve never been here before,’ she said softly, as they perused the menu.

‘It’s a first-class establishment, I assure you,’ said Mellberg, puffing himself up as if he were the one who owned the Gestgifveri.

‘Yes, and the ambience is excellent as well.’ Her eyes took in all the delicacies on the menu. Mellberg also studied the offerings, and for a moment he panicked when he saw the prices. But then he met Rose-Marie’s gaze across the top of the menus and the uneasiness in his stomach calmed down. On a night like this, money was no object.

She looked out of the window, up towards the community centre. ‘I hear there are festivities over there tonight.’

‘It’s those reality show people. We’re usually able to avoid such affairs in these parts. Our colleagues in Strömstad normally get all those sorts of event, and they also have to deal with the drunkenness and vandalism that follow.’

‘Are you expecting problems? Can you really take the night off from work?’ Rose-Marie looked concerned.

Mellberg’s sense of pride and self-importance swelled even more. It was nice to feel like a big shot in the company of a beautiful woman. That had happened far too seldom since he was so rudely transferred to Tanumshede. For some reason people had a hard time appreciating his true qualities here.

‘I have two officers assigned to keep an eye on things,’ he said. ‘So we can have a nice dinner and enjoy ourselves in peace and quiet. A good chief knows how to delegate, and I’ll admit to having a real talent for that.’

A smile from Rose-Marie confirmed that she didn’t doubt he was an excellent chief. This was turning out to be a very pleasant evening.

Mellberg looked up towards the community centre again. Then he purged his mind of the whole business. Martin and Hanna could take care of it. There were more enjoyable matters requiring his attention.

Tina did the few voice exercises she knew before she went up on stage. Of course she would just be singing playback; it was enough if she mimed the words with the mike in her hand. But you never knew. Once, in Örebro, the playback CD had suddenly stopped working, and since she hadn’t rehearsed properly, she’d had to croak her way through the song live. She never wanted to be in that position again.

She knew that the others were laughing behind her back. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t bother her. On the other hand she couldn’t do much else but go up on stage and show everybody what she could do. This was her big chance at a singing career. She had wanted to be a singer ever since she was a little girl. So many hours she had stood in front of the mirror miming to pop songs, using the handle of her jump rope or whatever was available as a mike. With her appearance on
The Bar
she’d finally had a chance to show her stuff. She had gone to an audition for
Idol
before she tried out for
The Bar
, but that was an experience that still stung. Those morons on the jury had ripped her to shreds, and the clip was replayed over and over again on TV. She had just stood there with a stupid grin on her face. Then that prat Clabbe told her to clear off home. But the humiliation had continued until, on the verge of tears, she had defiantly told them that everybody else reckoned she had a fine singing voice. Her mamma and pappa used to listen to her with tears in their eyes they were so proud of her. And to think she had been so happy when she had stood there in the queue early that morning and looked about, sure of victory, sure that she’d be one of those chosen. Tina had selected a song she was sure would impress them: ‘Without You’ by her idol, Mariah Carey. She would give it everything she had and blow the jury members away. Then she would start on a whole new life. She had pictured it all so clearly. Celebrity parties and
Idol
hysteria. Summer tours and videos on MTV. But it had all gone so wrong.

When the producers of
The Bar
called, it had been like a gift from heaven. It was an opportunity that she didn’t intend to pass up. After a while she managed to figure out what had made her flop on
Idol
. It was her breasts, of course. The jury had liked her song, but they didn’t want her on the show because they knew she wouldn’t be a hit if she didn’t have the rest of the equipment needed. And for a girl that usually meant big boobs. So as soon as the shooting for
The Bar
started, she had begun saving up. She saved every öre until she finally had enough to pay for breast enlargement surgery. With the D-cups in place, nothing could stop her. But she drew the line at bleaching her hair. Despite everything she was a smart girl.

Leif hummed as he stepped out of the truck. Usually he just drove the route in the Fjällbacka area, but with so many workers out with the stomach flu it meant that he had to drive more hours and cover a bigger area than normal. But he didn’t mind. He loved his job, and rubbish was rubbish no matter where he collected it. He’d even got used to the smell over the years. There weren’t many smells left that could make him wrinkle his nose. Unfortunately his blunted sense of smell prevented him from being able to notice the fragrance of freshly baked cinnamon buns or the perfume of a beautiful woman, but those were the breaks. He liked going to work, and there weren’t many people who could say that.

He pulled on his big work gloves and pressed one of the buttons on the instrument panel. The green refuse truck began puffing and blowing off air as the hoisting arm was lowered. Usually he could stay in the cab while the arm picked up the bin and dumped the contents directly into the press, but this particular bin wasn’t positioned correctly, so he had to drag it over manually.

Now he stood there watching the truck lift the bin. It was still quite early in the morning, and he yawned. He usually went to bed early, but he’d been taking care of the boys last night, his beloved grandchildren. They’d been allowed to stay up and roughhouse a bit too long, but it was worth it. He exhaled and watched the white cloud of his breath rise upwards. It was damned cold, even though they were a good way into April. But the temperature could still drop rapidly.

Leif looked round the neighbourhood, which consisted mostly of summer houses. Soon it would be brimming with life here. Every rubbish bin would have to be emptied. Bins that were full of shrimp shells and white-wine bottles that people were too lazy to take to the recycling centres. It was the same every year. Every single summer. He yawned again and looked up at the bin in the air just as it rotated and dumped its contents into the truck. He was stunned by what he saw.

Leif pounded the button that stopped the press. Then he took out his mobile.

Patrik heaved a deep sigh. Saturday hadn’t taken the turn he’d expected. He looked around in resignation. Dresses, dresses, dresses. Tulle and rosettes and sequins and the Devil and his aunt. He was sweating a bit and tugged at the collar of the torture suit he was wearing. It was scratchy and tight in odd places, and as hot as a portable sauna.

‘Well?’ said Erica, giving him a critical look. ‘Does it feel good? Does it fit?’ She turned to the woman who owned the shop, who had looked delighted when Erica came in with her future husband in tow. ‘It probably needs some alterations; the trousers look a bit long,’ said Erica, turning to Patrik again.

‘We’ll take care of everything, it’s no problem at all.’ The woman bent down and began sticking pins in the hems.

Patrik grimaced slightly. ‘Is it supposed to be so . . . tight?’ He tugged at the collar again. It felt like he wasn’t getting any air.

‘The jacket fits perfectly,’ chirped the woman, which was a real feat considering she had two pins sticking out of the corner of her mouth.

‘I just think it feels a bit too snug,’ said Patrik, appealing to Erica for some support.

But no reprieve was forthcoming. She smiled, though to his mind it was more of a devilish grin, and replied, ‘You look stupendous! You want to be as stylish as possible when we get married, don’t you?’

Patrik regarded his wife-to-be thoughtfully. She was exhibiting worrisome tendencies, but maybe a bridal shop affected all women this way. He simply wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. Resigned, he realized that there was only one way to accomplish that. With great effort he forced a smile, directed at no one in particular.

‘You’re right,’ he said, ‘I do think that this is starting to feel very, very good. We’ll take this one!’

Erica clapped her hands in delight. For the thousandth time Patrik wondered what it was about weddings that made women’s eyes sparkle. Naturally he too was looking forward to getting married, but he would have been perfectly happy with a low-key affair. Though he couldn’t deny that the joyful look in Erica’s eyes warmed his heart. In spite of everything, what mattered most in his world was that she was happy. If that meant he had to wear a hot, itchy penguin costume for one day, then he would do it. He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. ‘Do you think Maja is okay?’

Erica laughed. ‘Anna does have two kids of her own, so I think she can handle taking care of Maja.’

‘But now she has three kids to look after. What if she has to run after Adrian or Emma and then Maja slips off and –’

Erica cut him off with a smile. ‘Just stop it. I’ve taken care of all three of them all winter long, and it’s been fine. And besides, Anna said something about Dan popping by. So you have nothing to worry about.’

Patrik relaxed. Erica was right. But he was always afraid that something would happen to his daughter. Maybe it was because of everything he’d seen on the job. He knew only too well what terrible events could strike ordinary people. And what awful things could happen to children. He’d read somewhere that after you had a child it was like living the rest of your life with a loaded pistol at your temple. And there was some truth to that. The fear was always present, lurking. There was danger everywhere. But he was going to try and stop thinking about it. Maja was fine. And he and Erica were having a rare day to themselves.

‘Would you like to have lunch somewhere?’ he suggested after they had paid and thanked the woman. The springtime sun shone down on them and warmed their faces when they stepped out onto the street.

‘What a wonderful idea,’ Erica said happily, taking his arm. They strolled slowly down the shopping street in Uddevalla, looking at the various eating establishments on offer. The choice fell at last on a Thai restaurant on one of the side streets, and they were just about to step into the enticing aroma of curry when Patrik’s phone rang. He looked at the display. Damn, it was the station.

‘Don’t tell me . . .’ said Erica, shaking her head wearily. From his expression she could tell where the call was coming from.

‘I have to take this,’ he said. ‘But go on inside, I’m sure it’s nothing important.’

Erica muttered sceptically but did as he said. Patrik waited outside, aware of the antipathy in his voice as he answered, ‘Yes, this is Hedström.’ The expression on his face soon turned from annoyance to disbelief.

‘In a rubbish bin?’

‘Is anyone else on the way? Martin? Okay.

‘I’ll come back straight away. But I’m in Uddevalla, so it’ll be a while. Just give me the address.’ He dug a pen out of his pocket but had no paper, so he wrote the address on the palm of his hand. Then he clicked off and took a deep breath. He wasn’t looking forward to telling Erica that they would have to skip lunch and drive straight home.

Chapter 4

Sometimes he thought he remembered the other one, the one who was not as gentle, or as beautiful, as her. The other one, whose voice was so cold and relentless. Like hard, sharp glass. Oddly enough there were times when missed her. He had asked sister if she remembered her, but she only shook her head. Then she had picked up her blanket, the soft one with the tiny pink teddy bears, and squeezed it hard. And he saw that she did remember. The memory sat somewhere deep inside, in her chest, not in her head.

Once he had attempted to ask about that voice. Where it was now. Who it had belonged to. But she had been so upset. There was no one else, she said. There had never been anyone with a hard, sharp voice. Only her. Just her. Then she had hugged him and sister. He had felt the silk of her blouse against his cheek, the scent of her perfume in his nostrils. A lock of his sister’s long blonde hair had tickled his ear, but he didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare break the magic. He had never asked again. To hear her sounding upset was so unusual, so disturbing, that he didn’t dare risk it.