The Preacher (16 page)

‘How about if we go inside and sit down?’

Without waiting for a reply, Patrik headed towards the door with Gösta following close behind. Robert had no other choice but to follow. He didn’t bother taking off his work overalls or washing his hands. After staging previous raids, Patrik knew that there was no reason to do so. Filth clung to everything in the house. Many years before, the cabin had no doubt been very cosy, if small. But years of neglect had taken their toll, and now the place was a disaster zone. The wallpaper was a dismal brown, with loose patches and plenty of spots. Besides the dirt, everything seemed to be covered with a thin film of grease.

The two detectives nodded to Solveig, who was sitting at the rickety kitchen table, busy with her photo albums. Her dark hair hung in limp strands along her face, and when she nervously brushed the fringe out of her eyes, her fingers shone with grease. Unconsciously, Patrik wiped his hands on his shorts and then sat down cautiously on the very edge of a straight-backed chair. Stefan came out from one of the adjoining little rooms and sullenly sat down next to his brother and mother on the kitchen bench. When they sat in a row Patrik could see the family resemblance. Solveig’s former beauty was preserved like an echo in the faces of her sons. According to what Patrik had heard, Johannes had been a handsome fellow, and if his sons would straighten their backs they would look fairly decent. But there was a volatility about them that hinted at a slightly slippery temperament. ‘Dishonesty’ was probably the word that Patrik was searching for. If someone’s appearance could be dishonest, then that description would certainly apply to Robert. Patrik still held out a little hope for Stefan. On the occasions when they had run into each other officially, the younger boy had always presented a less hardened veneer than his brother. Sometimes Patrik could sense an ambivalence in him about the path in life he had chosen, following in Robert’s wake. It was a shame that Robert exerted such an influence on him, otherwise Stefan might have had a completely different life. But it was probably too late for that.

‘What the hell do you want now?’ Stefan asked the same surly question as his brother.

‘We’d just like to hear what you were doing last night. Were the two of you out visiting your aunt and uncle and amusing yourselves with a little rock-throwing?’

A conspiratorial glance passed between the brothers before they put on a mask of utter ignorance.

‘No, why would we do that? We were at home all evening yesterday, weren’t we, Mamma?’

They both turned to Solveig, who nodded. She had closed the album temporarily and now sat listening attentively to the conversation between her sons and the police.

‘Yes, both of them were here last night. We were watching TV together. We had a nice family evening.’ She didn’t even bother concealing her sarcasm.

‘And Stefan and Robert didn’t go out for a little while? Say, around ten o’clock?’

‘No, they weren’t gone even a minute. Didn’t even go to the loo, as far as I remember.’ Still the same sarcastic tone of voice, and her sons couldn’t help sniggering. ‘So somebody broke a couple of windows at their house last night. That must have scared the shit out of them.’

The sniggering now turned into a chorus that made Patrik think of Beavis and Butthead.

‘No, just your aunt, actually. Gabriel was out of town yesterday, so she was alone in the house.’

Disappointment was written across their faces. They had probably hoped to scare both of them, and they hadn’t reckoned with Gabriel not being at home.

‘I heard that you also paid them a little visit at the manor house yesterday, Solveig. And some threats were made. Do you have anything to say about that?’ It was Gösta who asked the question. Patrik as well as the Hult brothers stared at him in astonishment.

Solveig gave a vulgar laugh. ‘So, they said I threatened them, did they? Well, I didn’t say anything that they didn’t deserve. It was Gabriel who fingered my husband as a murderer. He was the one who took my husband’s life, just as if he had tied the noose himself.’

A muscle twitched in Robert’s face at the mention of the way his father had died. Patrik recalled at once what he’d read: that it was Robert who had found his father after he hanged himself.

Solveig continued her harangue. ‘Gabriel always hated Johannes. He’d been jealous of him ever since they were little. Johannes was everything that his brother was not, and Gabriel knew it. Ephraim always favoured Johannes, and in a way I understand. Naturally you should never favour one child over another,’ she said, nodding at the boys seated next to her on the bench. ‘But Gabriel was a cold fish, while Johannes was full of life. I should know; I was engaged first to one and then the other. It was impossible to get Gabriel excited about anything. He was always so damned proper. He said we had to wait until we were married. It got on my nerves. Then his brother came along and began hovering about, and that was something completely different. Those hands of his could be all over you at once. He made me burn with lust just by looking at me.’ She chuckled and stared into space, as if she were reliving her hot nights of youth.

‘Damn it, will you shut up, Mamma?’

Disgust was visible on her sons’ faces. They obviously wanted to be spared the details of their mother’s amorous past. Patrik pictured a naked Solveig, her greasy body writhing in passion, and he had to blink to get rid of the image.

‘As soon as I heard about the girl who was murdered, and they’d found Siv and Mona too, I went over there to give them a real piece of my mind. Out of sheer envy and nastiness, Gabriel destroyed Johannes. He destroyed our lives too, me and the boys, but now the truth is finally staring people in the face. Now they’ll be ashamed and realize that they listened to the wrong brother. And I hope Gabriel burns in hell for his sins!’

She had begun to work herself up to the same rage she had displayed the day before. Stefan placed a soothing and admonitory hand on her arm.

‘Well, no matter what the reason, you can’t go around threatening people. And you shouldn’t throw rocks through people’s windows, either!’ Patrik pointed at Robert and Stefan. He didn’t for an instant believe their mother’s story that they’d been at home in front of the TV. They knew that he knew, and now he was warning them that he’d be keeping an eye on them. They just mumbled in reply.

But Solveig seemed to ignore the warning. Her cheeks were still red with fury.

‘For that matter, Gabriel isn’t the only one who should be ashamed! When are we going to get an apology from the police? The way you ran around at Västergården turning everything upside down. And you took Johannes away in a police car for questioning. You did your part in sending him to his death. Isn’t it about time to beg my forgiveness?’

For the second time Gösta spoke up. ‘Until we figure out exactly what happened to those three girls, there won’t be any begging forgiveness for anything. And until we get to the bottom of this, I want you to behave like decent folks, Solveig.’

The firmness in Gösta’s voice seemed to come from some unexpected place.

Back out in the car, Patrik asked in surprise, ‘Do you and Solveig know each other?’

Gösta grunted. ‘Depends what you mean by “know”. She’s the same age as my youngest brother and was over at our house a good deal when we were boys. By the time she reached her teens, everybody knew about Solveig. She was the prettiest girl in the district, I must tell you, even though it’s hard to believe, the way she looks now. Yep, it’s a darned shame. To think that things could turn out so badly for her and the boys.’ He shook his head with regret. ‘And I can’t even say that she’s right about Johannes dying an innocent man. We really don’t know a damn thing!’

In frustration he pounded his thigh with his fist. Patrik thought it was like seeing a bear wake up from a long hibernation.

‘Are you going to check the prisons when we get back?’

‘Yeah, yeah, I already told you! I’m not so old that I can’t understand an order the first time I hear it. Here I am, taking orders from a whippersnapper who’s barely dry behind the ears…’ Gösta stared dismally out the windscreen.

They still had a long way to go, Patrik thought wearily.

* * *

By Saturday Erica realized she was looking forward to having Patrik at home again. He’d promised to take the weekend off, and now they were putting out in their 13-foot wooden boat towards the skerries. They’d been fortunate to find a boat that was almost exactly like the snipa that Erica’s father Tore had owned. It was the only type of boat she could imagine having. She’d never really been big on sailing, despite a couple of outings in sailing school, and a fibreglass motorboat went faster, of course, but who was in a hurry?

The sound of the snipa’s motor was for her the sound of her childhood. As a little girl she had often slept on the warm wooden floor, with the lulling throb of the motor in her ears. These days she preferred to climb up and sit on the raised prow in front of the windscreen, but in her present, less-than- graceful condition she didn’t dare. Instead she sat on one of the thwarts behind the protective panes. Patrik stood at the tiller, with the wind in his brown hair and a smile on his face. They had set out early to get there before the tourists, and the air was fresh and clear. A fine spray showered the boat from time to time, and Erica could taste the salt in the air she was inhaling. It was hard to imagine that inside her she was carrying a tiny person who, within a couple of years, would be sitting beside Patrik in the stern, dressed in a baggy orange life-jacket with a big collar, just as she had done so many times with her father.

Erica’s eyes began to smart at the thought that her father would never get to meet his grandchild. Nor would her mother, but since she had never really cared about Erica or Anna it seemed unlikely that another grandchild would have aroused much feeling in her. Especially since her mother had always acted unnaturally stiff when she met Anna’s children. She would give them an awkward hug if the situation and the company seemed to require it. Bitterness welled up inside Erica again, but she swallowed hard to repress it. In her darker moments she was afraid that motherhood would prove to be just as burdensome for her as it had been for Elsy – that with one fell stroke she would turn into her cold and inaccessible mother. The logical part of her brain said that it was ridiculous even to have such thoughts, but fear was not logical. On the other hand, Anna was a warm and loving mother to Emma and Adrian, so why shouldn’t Erica be one too? That was how she tried to reassure herself. At least she had chosen the right father for the child, she thought as she gazed at Patrik. His steadfast calm and confidence offset her own restlessness in a way that nobody had done before. He was going to be a splendid father.

They went ashore in a little protected cove and spread out their towels on the bare, flat rock. This is what she had missed when she lived in Stockholm. The archipelago there was so different, with all its woods and underbrush. In some way it had always felt jumbled and intrusive. A flooded garden, as West Coasters contemptuously called it. The islands were so pure in their bare simplicity. The pink and grey granite reflected the crystalline water against the heartrending loveliness of a cloudless sky. Tiny flowers growing in the rock crevices were the only vegetation, and in this barren setting their beauty could be fully appreciated. Erica closed her eyes and felt herself slip away into pleasant slumber to the sound of the lapping water and the boat lightly tapping against its mooring.

When Patrik gently woke her she didn’t quite know at first where she was. The sharp sunlight blinded her for a few seconds when she opened her eyes, and Patrik was just a dark shadow looming over her. When she got her bearings she realized that she had slept for almost two hours. Now she was ravenous to eat the snack they had brought along.

They poured coffee from the thermos into big mugs and ate the cinnamon buns. Nowhere did food taste so good as out on an island, and they enjoyed it to the fullest. But Erica couldn’t help taking up the forbidden topic of discussion again.

‘How’s it going for you guys, anyway?’

‘So-so. One step forwards and two steps back.’ Patrik’s reply was curt. It was obvious that he didn’t want the evil that regularly insinuated its way into his work to invade this sun- drenched peacefulness.

But Erica’s curiosity was too great, and she couldn’t help trying to find out a little more. ‘Were those articles I found of any use? Do you think the whole thing is about the Hult family? Or was Johannes just unlucky to be drawn into it?’

Patrik sighed as he sat with the coffee mug in his hands.

‘If only I knew. The whole Hult family feels like a darned hornets’ nest, and I would really prefer not to root around in their affairs. But there’s something that doesn’t seem quite right. Whether it has to do with the murders or not, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the thought that the police may have contributed to an innocent person committing suicide that makes me hope there was some basis for our suspicions. After all, Gabriel’s testimony was the only sensible lead the police had when the girls went missing. But we can’t focus on that alone; we have to do a broad search.’ He paused for a few seconds and then went on. ‘I’d really prefer not to talk about this. Right now it feels as though I need to disconnect from everything that has to do with murder and think about something else.’

She nodded. ‘I promise not to ask any more questions. Another bun?’

He didn’t say no, and after a couple of hours of reading and sunning themselves on the island, they saw by the clock that they should be getting home to prepare for the arrival of their guests. At the last minute they had decided to invite Patrik’s father and his wife as well, so besides the children there were eight adults who would have to be fed from the grill.

Gabriel always grew restless on the weekend when he was expected to relax and not work. The problem was that he didn’t know what to do when he wasn’t working. Work was his life. He had no free-time interests, no desire to spend time with his wife, and by now the children had moved out, even though Linda’s situation might be open to discussion. The result was that he usually locked himself in his office with his nose buried in the account books. Numbers were the one thing that he understood in life. Unlike people with their troublesome emotions and irrationality, numbers obeyed strict rules. He could always rely on them. He felt comfortable in their world. It didn’t take a genius to understand where this craving for order and clarity came from. Gabriel himself had long ascribed it to his chaotic childhood, but it was nothing that he ever dwelled on. His need for order had served him well; the origin of the craving had consequently little or no significance.