Frozen Moment (20 page)

    Maya
didn't offer him any assistance. He would have to deal with his jealousy as
best he could. In the end the conversation died away, after she had dodged the
issue and promised to pull her socks up.

    Oh
yes, she knew she was young and had very good prospects, if only she would make
the same effort she had made at the beginning, a year or so ago when nothing of
any significance had happened in her life. Because that was the most terrifying
thing of all: she didn't care about anything except Caroline. Why?
Because Caroline made her happy.
Because
Maya was more than happy to fulfil her expectations.

    She
had returned to school after visiting Borås for a couple of weeks that seemed
empty because of her longing to get back to Stensjö. Therefore she was
bewildered when Caroline met her with angry accusations, saying she had lost
her passion. That she was drifting away from her.

    
There
were small but unmissable signs, Caroline insisted, blind to Maya's growing
fear:
Maya was friendly, but not intimate.
Her lover but
not her twin soul.
She couldn't bear it.

    However
much Maya professed the sincerity of her love, it was never enough.

    When
the anger had worked itself out, Caroline turned her back on Maya, hurt. She
suddenly began to hang out with one of the boys in Maya's class, a dark-eyed
silent young man. They held hands behind the canteen, and Caroline's cheeks
were red. At dawn Maya would stand behind the curtain in the school's guest
room, where she now slept; she had found a refuge there in her anger. She saw
him on the porch of the studio cottage, his shirt buttoned up all wrong and his
hair standing on end.

    She
had no one to talk to. In her darkest hours Maya thought that Caroline seemed
to be enjoying her despair.

    Maya
was lucky and managed to get another room; it wasn't her old one, but it did
look out over the garden. It was fine. For two whole weeks she left her cases
without unpacking them, like a tourist just passing through.

    Then
Caroline was standing there again, triumphant:
I love being the first one
for you, not just the woman you go to bed with, but the first one who has
touched your soul.
She had let the hair on the top of her head grow into a
stubby coxcomb. 'Now I know I mean something to you.'

    Maya
forgave her and moved back into the studio. She handed in her room key,
blushing with embarrassment as she gave it to Greta in the office. Greta tilted
her head to one side and tried to look pleasant, despite the fact that her cryptic
comments were poisonous.

    'You're
not the first one to get caught up with Caroline. I think a conscientious girl
like you should be careful, Maya. You can't always be sure you know everything
it's important to know about a person.'

    But
who knows what is important and what is right in life, while it's still going
on? Maya allowed herself to be swept away by a passion that held her in its
grip for weeks, during which she and Caroline hardly let go of one another.
Love was a roller coaster, the betrayals unspoken and barely touching the
scope, the breadth and the depth of the emotion; betrayals that it was
impossible to put into words, and therefore impossible to come to terms with.
When Maya did not fulfil her expectations, Caroline would retreat, needing to
be alone, silent and inaccessible, and Maya would weep once more.

    And
if Maya devoted only part of her attention to her studies when she and Caroline
were passionately in love, she was barely capable of bothering with them at all
when they weren't speaking. All her strength went into resisting the impulse to
plead and pray
,
to beg on her knees to be loved again,
the way she now knew it was possible to be loved. Sometimes she gave in to this
impulse and detested the way Caroline closed her eyes and allowed herself to be
filled up, apparently entranced by the fact that Maya was humiliating herself
for her sake.

    Caroline
was smoking outside the door of the main building.

    Maya
thought once again how Caroline was capable of making her feel less lonely, how
she could choose whether to love or not. She wanted to run up to her and take
her to task for the careless way she handled other people's feelings, but the
number of people around them stopped her.

    Suddenly
the situation seemed so constricting and stifling that she felt as if she
couldn't move. The little group of houses on the edge of the forest aroused
nothing but loathing in her, the charm of the old school building seemed musty
and out of date. It was suddenly incomprehensible to her that Caroline should
have stood this year after year, a world where nothing changed except the fresh
cohorts of students, who stayed for a while and then moved on in life.

    She
pushed her hands down into her pockets. The clock struck ten, and dutiful
students headed for their classes.

    'We're
going to move away from here,' said Maya when they were alone on the steps.
'We'll move out and get a place of our own, you and me. We can't stay here for
ever.'

    Caroline's
face was completely expressionless.

    Maya
went on: 'I mean, I'll finish my exams soon, and there's nothing for me to do
here after that. Maybe we could move to Gothenburg. Or get ourselves a little
house.'

    The
words released the emotion. It was too late for pointless power games, and she
wasn't that kind of person. Maya was no strategist when it came to love.

    
'You and me?'
A smile played around the corners of
Caroline's mouth. 'So you're sticking around then?' As she gazed at Maya, her
eyes narrowed. 'A lot of people are treacherous by nature, but not you.

    Do
you understand? We're the same, you and I. You'll be there for me until the
end.'

    Her
pupils contracted, making the iris appear unnaturally blue. Maya dared to move
closer.

    'Yes,
I'll be there.'

    'You
won't let me down, will you?'

    'No,
I won't let you down.'

    2006    

    Bärneflod
let out his belt one more hole and sadly contemplated what Christmas had done
to his already corpulent torso. He jumped as Karlberg rapped briskly on the
desk.

    'We've
found a tyre model that matches the casts. What's more, one of the tyres shows
specific damage from wear and tear, which could be very helpful indeed.'

    'When
we've found the murderer, you mean?
And his car.'
'Spoilsport.
Where's Tell, anyway?' asked Karlberg. 'Nobody
knows. But I think he's on his way in. And I'm on my way out.'

    'OK.
See you later.'

    'Hey!'
He shouted back to Karlberg. 'Why don't you come with me? I'm going to see
Edell.' 'Are they digging him up?'
'The younger brother,
idiot.'

    They
hadn't phoned in advance, and when they arrived at the farm it seemed as if
they were out of luck. After all, it was between Christmas and New Year, and
normal people were on holiday and had gone away. Bärneflod grunted
discontentedly at the thought of all the holidays he'd worked through during
his career.

    There
were no lights on, and there was no car on the driveway.

    They
swore at some length, and were about to turn away when a window on the ground
floor opened and a cascade of water came flooding out, splashing on to the
frozen flower bed and over Karlberg's shoes, much to his surprise.

    'Oh,
goodness, I'm so sorry. I didn't know anybody was there.'

    The
apologetic voice belonged to a woman who would presumably turn out to be
Gertrud Edell, Reino Edell's wife. She didn't seem to know what to do with
herself
, standing there at the window.

    Bärneflod
and Karlberg took control and invited themselves in, after wiping their feet on
the fir branches by the steps. They were provided with coffee and something to
dunk in it, along with a stream of apologies concerning both the involuntary
shower and the inadequacy of the biscuits on offer.

    Gertrud
seemed nervous. Her husband was not at home, she said repeatedly, and it was
clear from her reluctance to sit down that she found the situation
uncomfortable. She kept flitting around the kitchen, finding pointless things
to do. Bärneflod and Karlberg had seen this kind of behaviour before, usually
from people who didn't want to talk to the police. An invisible mark was wiped
off the draining board, a mat was moved a fraction to the left.
It would be
good to find out the reason behind her nerves before Reino Edell got home,
Bärneflod thought. He had a feeling that this woman was accustomed to letting
her husband do the talking.

    He
passed on his thoughts to Karlberg when Gertrud Edell left them alone for a
moment to visit the bathroom. Karlberg nodded in agreement. Or, he whispered
back, they could turn it around and highlight the husband's habit of speaking
on behalf of his wife. You needed two people to form a destructive
relationship, he said. Barneflod leaned back and shrugged his shoulders, but
Karlberg wouldn't give up.

    'Can
you say that an unequal relationship is destructive if neither party perceives
it to be destructive?'

    Bärneflod
looked at him in exasperation.
'For God's sake!
Just
forget
it.'

    Gertrud
Edell came in and was surprised to see the older police officer looking so
annoyed. He increased her feeling of unease by smiling sweetly while pointing
decisively at the chair opposite his own.

    It
was an exhortation not to be ignored. She sat down on the very edge of the
chair.

    Bärneflod
decided to stop pissing about.

    'What
sort of relationship did your husband have with Lise-Lotte Edell and Lars
Waltz?'

    Gertrud
Edell looked down at her hands, which were bright red, as were her face and
throat. She twisted her wedding ring round and around.

    'Well?'

    'Why
are you asking if you already know the answer?'

    She
looked up defiantly. So there was a bit of spark in the old girl, Karlberg
thought, pleasantly surprised.

    'Waltz
made a complaint against your husband alleging threats and harassment on three
separate occasions. That's what we know. You can tell us the rest.'

    She
carried on twisting the ring around her finger as she watched a fly making its
way across the plate of biscuits. She was saved by the sound of a tractor
outside.

    Reino
Edell crossed the yard, came up the steps in just a few strides and stood in
the doorway. Tall and powerfully built, he was dressed in his work clothes, and
most of his face was adorned by blue-black stubble. Karlberg, who couldn't
exactly boast about his ability to grow a beard, noticed that Edell had missed
a few long dark hairs just
under
one eye. He wondered
quietly to himself what the man would look like with a full beard.

    Edell
took off his cap and nodded grimly at the visitors. He didn't come over and
offer his hand, which suited Bärneflod perfectly. He preferred to keep things
simple too.

    'We're
from the police, and as I just said to your wife, Lars Waltz made complaints
about you on three occasions; would you like to tell us about that?'

    The
man looked at his wife as if he were trying to discern whether she had said
anything inappropriate.

    
'Nothing to tell.'

    'I
very much doubt that, particularly given the fact that Lars Waltz is dead.'

    'I
don't know anything about that.'

    Bärneflod
had had enough.

    'OK,
then we can continue this conversation at the station. We have access there to
more detailed information about your quarrels with Waltz. And I think you won't
find anybody there who's as well disposed as I am to give you the chance to
tell your side of the story.'

    Edell
twitched and decided to cooperate.

    'All
right, I can explain things!' He slammed his cap down on the worktop. 'I admit
I was furious with him. He was an arrogant bastard! He wouldn't listen, and he
had no respect for other people's property! That's what I told him.'