Still Waters (Sandhamn Murders Book 1) (18 page)

C
HAPTER
42

“What time are we leaving, Mom?” Simon patted Nora’s arm and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.

Nora looked around, only half-awake. The digital clock showed that it was only 7:20. Far too early to get up, at least if she had anything to say about it.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“What time are we leaving for Alskär? We’re going there with Fabian’s family, remember? That’s what you said yesterday.”

Nora suppressed a groan. She had completely forgotten that they had promised to take the children to the little island immediately northeast of Sandhamn, just a ten-minute boat trip away. There was a natural sandy beach on Alskär, plus a tiny island opposite that you could wade to. The children loved going there and making their way across the little sound.

Yesterday afternoon, when she was in a really good mood, she had happily agreed with Eva Lenander that they would spend Sunday on Alskär together. Eva’s son, Fabian, was Simon’s best friend on Sandhamn, and the Lenanders lived just a few minutes away.

A lovely day out with a picnic on the beach. Today it didn’t have quite the same appeal.

She turned her head and gazed at Henrik, who was still fast asleep.

She had been furious and disappointed when she’d gotten home last night. In spite of the fact that she was still awake when Henrik arrived soon after her, she’d pretended to be asleep. She hadn’t had the slightest desire to speak to him.

A trip with the Lenanders would mean they wouldn’t have the opportunity to sort out last night’s argument. Instead they would have to keep up the pretense all day, acting as if everything were fine. That didn’t feel right.

“Come on, Mom, when are we leaving?”

“Sweetheart, do you know what time it is? Come and cuddle and try to sleep for a bit longer. It’s much too early to go anywhere.”

Nora drew Simon close and pulled the covers over him. She could already feel the beginnings of a headache, but she couldn’t work out whether it was due to the lack of sleep or her anger at Henrik.

“Just for a little while,” she said.

Nora closed her eyes and tried to get back to sleep. It was easier said than done. Simon was wide awake and incapable of keeping still. If he wasn’t kicking her in the kidneys, he was pushing his little face up against her ribs. At around eight o’clock she gave up.

“OK, come on. We’ll get dressed and cycle down to the bakery for some fresh bread.”

At the bakery, they were met by the aroma of freshly baked bread and warm cakes. Other summer visitors who were up bright and early stood around in small groups, waiting for the shop to open. Nora chatted with several people she knew while waiting in line.

She bought fresh rolls and a loaf of bread. Simon was allowed to choose which cakes they should take with them to Alskär. He settled for two Sandhamn knots flavored with cardamom and two flaky Danish pastries with a generous dollop of vanilla in the center.

With Simon on the luggage rack, she carried on to the kiosk to buy a morning paper. There was no line when she got there, just a dog racing around with his tail in the air in spite of the fact that his owner was calling to him. A few hungry gulls circled overhead, searching for some discarded delicacy on which they could feast.

“Morning,” Nora greeted the woman in the kiosk, whose family she had known ever since she was a little girl. “Could I have a nice fresh morning paper, please?”

She held out her money and was met with a wry smile.

“I should think so. If you want to read the paper, that is. There seems to be no end to the nonsense they can come up with about the Sandhamn murders. And then there are the evening papers. We’ll see what nonsense they’ve made up after lunch.”

Nora took the paper and tucked it under her arm. “Have the deaths made a difference in your sales?”

“I’m afraid so. We usually have a line here in the afternoons at this time of year, but it’s been much quieter, and I should think it’ll get worse now that the regatta is over. I hope the police catch the killer soon. Otherwise businesses out here are going to be in trouble. We make our living in the summer.”

Nora stayed and chatted for a little while, then she lifted Simon back onto the luggage rack and cycled home. She hoped Henrik was still asleep. She almost wished he were still out sailing. She needed to think things through before she spoke to him.

As soon as breakfast was over, Nora started packing for their day out.

It was quite a task. Four beach towels, a picnic blanket, a mountain of beach toys in various colors, a big basket of sandwiches, pastries, juice, and a thermos of coffee. At the last minute she remembered to put in a roll of toilet paper; it always came in handy. Sunscreen and four life jackets, and she was ready.

The cordless phone rang, and she answered it.

“Nora, my dear.” Her mother-in-law’s domineering voice filled the receiver. Nora stiffened; the harsh sound of Monica Linde filled her entire body with distaste. “I want to speak to Henrik. Bring the children, and come over to Ingarö right now. I’ve already prepared the guesthouse. You can’t stay on that island while there’s a murderer on the loose.”

Nora sighed and forced herself not to lose her temper. She would rather stay on Sandhamn with ten murderers than spend one night with Monica at their country house on Ingarö. The long tradition of spending Christmas there with the entire Linde clan was more than enough. Monica ruled the roost, and Nora made such an effort to keep her mouth shut that her jaws ached. Henrik didn’t notice a thing, as usual. Once he was back in the home where he grew up he reverted to a spoiled teenager, letting his mom do everything. Meanwhile, Nora ran around trying to keep the boys in order and helping out as best she could. Her father-in-law usually fled to the sauna with an enormous drink, but she didn’t have that luxury.

“I’m sorry, Monica. Henrik is already down at the jetty. We’re going out for the day. I’ll ask him to call you when we get back.”

She quickly ended the call in spite of Monica’s protests. Henrik had in fact gone down to the boat to get everything ready and check that there was enough fuel in the tank.

Nora slipped on her life jacket and turned the key in the door. She didn’t usually bother to lock up; on the contrary, she often left the veranda door open, both to let in some fresh air and to show that they were home. But at the moment it just didn’t feel safe, particularly as they were going to be out all day.

As she was passing Signe’s house, the kitchen window opened, and a familiar face appeared.

“Are you going sailing?”

“It looks that way,” Nora said. She really was fond of her neighbor. “We’re going to Alskär; the kids love it. We’re going with the Lenanders—you know, Fabian’s parents.”

“What a good idea—Alskär is a wonderful place.”

Nora smiled at Signe. Just the thought of a boat trip made her feel more cheerful.

“Take these for the boys.” Signe passed a bag of jam tarts out of the window. “I know they love them, and I expect even you and Henrik might manage one or two.”

“That’s so kind of you—thank you!” Nora took the sweets, placed them carefully in her beach bag, and waved her grateful thanks to Signe before heading down to the jetty.

Henrik had already cast off, and the boys were sitting in the prow. As usual Adam had been pestering Henrik, demanding to steer; Henrik had promised that he could have a try as soon as they were out in open water.

Nora sat down in the middle of the boat, at a safe distance from Henrik.

They had maintained a polite and neutral tone all morning and had discussed only practical matters. Neither of them had mentioned the previous night’s argument. Fortunately the boys had been jumping around, full of excitement about the day’s outing, and it had been easy to hide behind their eager chatter.

The Lenanders were already there when they arrived. Henrik maneuvered in among the rocks and dropped anchor. Alskär had a natural harbor, so it was just a matter of finding a suitable place to moor the boat. Everyone tried to avoid dragging the boats up onto the shore so that the little beach was left free for the children to build their sandcastles.

After their picnic Nora went for a walk with Eva. On the other side of the island there was an area of completely flat stones, worn so smooth by wind and water that it felt like a baby’s bottom when you ran a hand over the warm rock. Nora and Eva sat down for a while.

It was a beautiful spot. Far away they could just see the tower of the lighthouse on Korsö, with lots of yachts in the distance. The sky was a perfect shade of blue, with the odd wispy cloud here and there. They looked like little scraps of the finest cotton wool, dotted across the sky. A herring gull swooped after food on the surface of the water.

“So, how are things?” Eva asked. She had become a good friend in recent years. Nora saw her almost every day, since Fabian and Simon attended swimming lessons together. Eva was one of those rare individuals who really seemed to care about other people and was always in a good mood.

Nora met Eva’s concerned gaze. She knew she had been unusually subdued all day.

“Could be better. It hasn’t been a great week, has it?” Nora said.

“Did you have a good time last night?”

“Not exactly. We had a massive fight about that job I mentioned the other day.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eva placed a consoling hand on Nora’s shoulder.

Nora tucked her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. She thought for a moment before she answered. “Henrik can’t understand why I’m interested in working in Malmö. He won’t even try to listen. He doesn’t want to move away from Stockholm; he thinks we have a good life at the moment, and there’s nothing to discuss.” She picked up a small pebble and skimmed it across the water. It bounced three times before sinking. She found another that was nice and flat and tried again. This time she counted four. Her personal best was seven, but that must have been at least fifteen years ago—maybe even twenty. “It’s as if his job is the only one that counts.”

“But you do have a good life, don’t you?” Eva said.

“That’s not the point. We have a great life, of course we do, but at least we ought to be able to talk about this before he dismisses the whole idea. What do you think would have happened if it had been the other way round? If he’d been made a terrific offer from Sahlgrenska University Hospital in Gothenburg?” She picked up another pebble and hurled it furiously into the sea. It sank immediately. “I just can’t stand the thought of going back after our vacation and working with Ragnar again. The man is a complete idiot.” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “And I’m an idiot if I don’t move. Particularly when the bank is offering me an opportunity like this.”

Eva patted her on the shoulder again to show her sympathy. Then she adjusted the strap of her red swimsuit and lay down on her stomach on the warm rock. “This hasn’t been an easy week for you. How’s the investigation going, by the way? Have you heard anything from Thomas?”

Nora shook her head. “I haven’t spoken to him—we’ve just exchanged some texts. He’s been so busy. He sent a message to tell me he’d be on Harö this weekend, mainly to get some sleep, I think. He’s been working all hours. The last time I saw him he looked absolutely shattered.”

“There was something I wanted to talk to him about . . . I think.”

Nora looked at Eva, who frowned and started chewing her thumbnail. “What do you mean?”

“We had visitors from Stockholm last Sunday. Malin called me last night to say thanks.” Eva hesitated. “She said she was almost certain she’d been sitting a couple seats away from Jonny Almhult on the ferry back to Stockholm.”

Nora sat up and turned her head so she could see Eva more clearly in the bright sunlight. “Is she sure?”

“She said she remembered him because he stank of stale booze. They were only a few feet apart. Her oldest daughter wanted to know why he smelled so horrible. You know, the way kids do.”

“Go on.”

“That’s it. They disembarked, and she didn’t give it another thought until Jonny’s body was found, and she saw his picture in the paper. That was when she realized he’d been sitting near them on the ferry.” She fell silent and looked anxiously at Nora.

“Has she called the police?”

“I don’t think so. It didn’t sound as if she had. Should I mention it to Thomas?”

“Definitely,” Nora said. “Thomas told me every piece of information is valuable. They’re trying to find out where Jonny was before he died. Did your friend see where he went when they got to Stockholm?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask,” Eva said.

Nora got to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go back. We need to call Thomas.”

M
ONDAY, THE FOURTH WEEK

C
HAPTER
43

Margit had left her family and traveled up from the west coast. She was sitting at her desk reading through all the case notes, and she was in a foul mood. Any hope of a restful, uninterrupted vacation had been shattered. The situation was not improved by the fact that her teenage daughter had immediately found soul mates of her own age and was more than happy to escape her mother’s watchful eye.

Thomas and Margit had gone through the entire investigation from start to finish, and he had summarized the events of the past week.

They were still unable to find a link between Krister and Kicki Berggren and Sandhamn. Neither their background nor a search of their respective apartments had come up with anything that could lead to someone on the island. They had received a number of calls from the public but nothing of any real value.

The money was on Sandhamn, Agneta Ahlin had said. Thomas kept thinking about that. What money? And where was it?

As expected, the forensic report had confirmed that the dried blood on the radiator in Jonny Almhult’s house was Kicki’s. The jacket hanging in his hallway also belonged to her. Therefore, there was clear evidence that she had been there, but it had been impossible to establish where she had ingested the fatal poison.

Thomas wondered when he had last felt properly rested. His sleep deficit was beginning to reach unimaginable levels. He remembered how tired he had been during those first few months after Emily was born, but it had been easier then because he had been so amazed at the miracle of becoming a father.

At the moment, he was utterly exhausted. Either he was trying to talk to people on Sandhamn or he was trying to piece together information as it emerged. They had brought in extra staff to go through everything one more time with a fine-tooth comb.

Thomas went off to the coffee machine. It felt like an admission of defeat, but the only thing that enabled him to think clearly at the moment was unlimited quantities of caffeine. With a certain amount of distaste he got a cup for himself and one for Margit, then went back to her office.

“Here,” he said. “This might help. Who wants a family vacation when you can sit in a stifling hot police station and solve a murder?”

Margit looked at him, her expression grim. “Very funny. I promised the girls we’d have four weeks together this year. And it was a nightmare trying to find a decent place to rent in July that didn’t cost a fortune.”

Thomas leaned back in his chair. “But the family’s having a good time, right? They’re still down there?”

“Oh yes, the girls are absolutely fine. But Bertil wasn’t at all pleased when I said I’d have to come back here.” Margit glanced apologetically at the photograph of her husband that stood on her desk. She put her head in her hands and groaned. “I just don’t understand how Jonny Almhult comes into the picture. Everyone you’ve spoken to describes him as a fairly innocuous person, not a violent character. Definitely not a ladies’ man. It’s hard to imagine him beating Kicki Berggren after drowning her cousin.”

“And even if he did,” Thomas said, “we still have no explanation as to why Jonny is also dead.” He linked his hands behind his neck as he gave the matter further consideration. “What if there’s a fourth person involved?” he said. “Perhaps someone Jonny used to work for, before something went wrong. If he was acting on behalf of someone else, that could explain why he was killed. In which case we have a murderer who has killed three people and possibly got rid of Jonny in order to cover his tracks. Which takes us back to the question of why the two cousins were killed.”

Thomas gazed at the sparkling blue waters of Nackafjärden through the window. It was a perfect day for sitting on the jetty with a cold beer, instead of drinking tepid coffee in a stuffy office.

With a huge effort he forced himself to gather his thoughts. “We’re getting nowhere fast,” he said. “We haven’t even managed to find the person Kicki Berggren allegedly spoke to outside the bakery. And if it was someone who was visiting for a few days, the chances of doing so are almost nonexistent.”

Margit took a sip of coffee. She ran a hand through her hair, which didn’t make her look the least bit better, then started rummaging through the pile of reports. “If your theory that Kicki was heading west on Sandhamn holds, then at least we have a limited area on which to focus. Plus Krister’s body was washed up on that side of the island,” she said as she skimmed the document in her hand.

Thomas picked up a large map showing every property on Sandhamn. He spread it out on the desk and drew a large circle around the northwestern section, from the bakery to the outermost point of Västerudd.

“There are approximately fifty houses inside this circle,” he said, carefully examining the map.

He got up and went out into the corridor to call Carina, who appeared in the doorway a minute later.

“I’m just wondering about that check on property owners on Sandhamn that we talked about on Friday,” he said. “Did you manage to find anything that matched the name the Mission House manager thought she remembered?”

Carina shook her head. “Sorry, no. The land registry office is closed on Fridays; they open at nine this morning, so I’m going to call them as soon as possible.”

She looked like an abandoned kitten, with her heart-shaped face and a little dimple in one cheek.

Thomas gave her an encouraging smile, and she seemed to relax.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “But let us know as soon as you find out anything. We’ll be here for quite some time.”

He was rewarded with a beaming smile. “I’ll come and tell you right away, I promise.”

“Try to find out which of them are permanent residents and which are summer visitors, if you can,” Margit said. “I have a feeling Kicki was looking for a summer visitor. I find it difficult to believe a resident would be involved in something like this. Small communities usually exercise a high level of social control. If someone is smuggling alcohol, I don’t see how you could run it from the archipelago. It would be very complicated, anyway.”

“Jonny Almhult was a resident; that contradicts your theory,” Thomas said.

“But we think he was working for somebody else, don’t we? And didn’t he do a lot of little jobs for summer visitors?”

Thomas figured as a carpenter, Jonny must have had plenty of opportunities to join forces with someone who might want slightly more demanding tasks carried out. Striking fear in a third party, for example. Jonny must have met most of the homeowners over the years. But would Jonny have poisoned Kicki and then slapped her around? That couldn’t be right.

“How likely is it that Jonny could lead us to the real killer?” Margit asked. “The indications are that Kicki ingested the poison before she met him. She might just have picked up Jonny in the bar; perhaps they bumped into one another, and there was no connection with the person who gave her the poison.” Margit looked at him, waiting for a response.

Thomas had to admit that she could be right. “It’s possible.” He picked up a pen and doodled in his notebook as he tried to come up with something sensible. “We have no evidence Jonny was in collusion with the person who murdered Kicki and presumably killed her cousin. But isn’t it a bit far-fetched to assume it was pure coincidence?”

Margit looked skeptical. “Most things seem to be a bit far-fetched in this case. Nothing has been straightforward so far.”

“I still think we should stick to the hypothesis that Jonny has some kind of relationship with the poisoner, who is also involved in Krister’s death,” Thomas said. “Think about the needle threaded through the net around Krister’s body. It was marked with Jonny’s father’s initials. I can’t believe Krister’s death has nothing to do with everything else that’s happened.”

Margit had nothing to say. She took the top off a marker and went over to a flip chart in the corner. She drew two stick men and a stick woman side by side. Above them she wrote
Known Facts
. “The deceased were two cousins, plus one person previously unknown to them. None of them was married or had children. All three made little money. Two seem to lack any connection with Sandhamn; one was a resident. There is no obvious motive for any of the murders; all we have is speculation.”

Thomas gazed at the flip chart. “Aren’t you going to write down that we don’t have a perpetrator either?” he said sarcastically.

Margit smiled. “I haven’t finished yet.” She picked up another marker.

Cause of death: two drowned, one poisoned, violence a contributory factor.

Residence: two lived in Stockholm, one on Sandhamn.

Relationships: two knew each other very well, the third probably a passing acquaintance of one of them.

Work: warehouse worker, croupier, carpenter.

When she had finished she took a step back and read through her summary. Then she went back to her seat and put down the marker. She rubbed her eyes and blinked a few times. She had reorganized the information they had, but it provided no fresh insights.

Thomas gazed at Margit’s notes. He chewed on a marker for a little while, then went over to the chart and carefully wrote
Sex
. He stood there for a moment, then added a question mark. “Try this. The murderer gives Kicki a bunch of rat poison, but he’s not sure it’s enough. On top of that, he doesn’t want to take the risk of her babbling about what she knows. So he tells Jonny to go and find her, just to be on the safe side, and to keep an eye on her. It wouldn’t have been particularly difficult to track her down on the island. He bumps into her in the bar according to plan. They have a few beers together, and she goes home with him. Then something goes wrong.”

Margit was looking intently at Thomas. “Perhaps Jonny thought he might get something out of it for himself. He would do what he had been told to do, but he would go to bed with her as well.”

“And when she wasn’t interested . . .”

“He lost his temper and hit her.”

“Not because he’d been told to, but because she turned him down.”

“And the desired result was achieved after all: Kicki died.”

“And everyone was happy.”

“Except perhaps Jonny,” Margit said. “Violence instead of sex doesn’t really sound like a great result.”

Thomas couldn’t argue with that. “If we can track down Jonny’s contact, we’ll probably have our killer,” he said.

“Very possibly. We need to carry on tracing Jonny’s movements and finding out who he met up with.”

Thomas yawned and put down the marker. “But what we really need to know is who Kicki was asking about. Let’s hope Carina’s inquiries get us somewhere. And soon.”