The Chosen (6 page)

‘But in that case he would have tried again, wouldn’t he?’

‘I’m not so sure. The shot would have frightened people, made them start running around all over the place. He might not have got a second chance.’

Alex was doubtful. The woman had been shot in the back. Her death had been inevitable and instantaneous. He couldn’t imagine the bullet had been meant for anyone else, and yet that
didn’t make sense either: why would someone think of firing from that distance in such terrible weather? It hadn’t been quite so windy at the time, but it had been snowing heavily, with
the storm already moving in.

‘We’ll speak to her parents,’ he said. ‘Then we’ll know where we stand.’

The silence that followed was pleasant and comfortable. Many of his colleagues seemed unable to cope with an absence of noise, and would therefore ramble on about nothing at all. But not Fredrika. Alex glanced at her profile; she was thinking something over. Alex was well aware of what his male colleagues thought of her appearance, and how many of
them harboured inappropriate fantasies about her.

Which was stupid of them, particularly in view of the fact that she was taken. Married, actually. To a man who was older than Alex, and who had been her professor and lover when she was a
student in Uppsala, according to the rumours. He would probably never know the truth of the matter; Fredrika shared a great deal, but not confidences of that kind.

‘How was the rehearsal?’ he asked.

She gave a start.

‘Good. Great, thanks.’

Alex made an attempt to comment on her pensive mood, although he wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea.

‘You look as if you’ve got something on your mind.’

‘It’s nothing. It’s just that Spencer’s going away.’

‘So you’ll be on your own with the kids?’

Fredrika looked as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

‘Exactly. If one parent goes away for a few weeks, that leaves just one at home. But I’m sure it’ll sort itself out.’

Alex’s phone rang. It was a man speaking English, who introduced himself as the person responsible for human resources at the Solomon Community. He wanted to know what Alex could tell
him about his former colleague, Peder Rydh.

Alex gave the same answer as always.

He spoke briefly about one of the most talented police officers he had ever met.

T
he press just kept on calling. The journalists were drawn to the dead body in the snow just like those who happened to walk past the scene of the crime. It took them less than an hour to
identify the victim, to find out where she lived and to expose her boyfriend’s background. From then on the reports followed two separate strands: either they talked about the fatal shooting
as an example of hate crime and anti-Semitism, or they suggested that the murder might have links to organised crime in the city. The police said nothing, and the Solomon Community tried to keep
any comments as brief as possible.

Efraim Kiel left the room where the general secretary was dealing with one call after another from the press. It looked as if they finally had a satisfactory solution to the problem of the
vacant post; Peder Rydh had made a good impression. Efraim would have liked to avoid making a temporary appointment, but Peder Rydh seemed more than capable of doing the job.

Efraim got in touch with the three referees in Rydh’s application; the last call was to his former boss, Alex Recht.

He had no problem in eliciting the information he wanted. Just as Efraim had suspected, Peder Rydh had been an extremely conscientious and very popular police officer. A little hot-headed, perhaps, and there were one or two issues regarding his attitude towards female colleagues in the past, but otherwise Alex Recht had nothing negative to say.

‘What’s your personal view of the incident that led to his dismissal?’ was Efraim’s final question.

‘What do you mean?’

‘What’s your assessment of the situation? Do you think that what he did – shooting the man who murdered his brother – is indefensible, or can you understand his actions?’

Alex was silent for a moment, then he said:

‘I have no personal opinion on the matter; I do, however, have a professional view, which I am prepared to share only with my colleagues and superiors.’

‘I understand,’ Efraim said, and ended the call.

With considerable relief he handed over the relevant paperwork. He would spend his last evening in Stockholm checking on how the investigation into Josephine’s murder was going. He really
wanted to ask how someone with such poor judgement could have been appointed to a post at the Solomon school, but it was none of his business to allocate blame; the members themselves could do
that.

Efraim’s train of thought was interrupted by the general secretary who had come to find him, his eyes darting from side to side, his forehead shiny with perspiration.

‘Has someone else been shot?’ Efraim asked dryly.

‘I do hope not, but we’ve had a call from one of the families within our community. Two ten-year-old boys appear to have gone missing. They were supposed to have a tennis
coaching session after school, but they didn’t turn up. And now no one knows where they are.’

A quick glance out of the window reminded Efraim of the cold and the heavy snowfall.

A tragedy was rarely an isolated event. But people never learned.

A grief so deep that it threatened to swallow up all sense and understanding. The interview was necessary, but it would be brief.

‘What do you know about your daughter’s boyfriend?’ Fredrika asked the couple sitting opposite her.

Josephine’s mother and father. They were rather older than Fredrika had expected.

They were still in shock, their grief fresh and raw. They had seen their daughter in the hospital morgue little more than an hour ago, and now they were back in their apartment, where life
was expected to go on. Fredrika didn’t have the words to explain how that was supposed to happen. Alex had more idea, having lost his wife a few years earlier. Sorrow had etched fine lines on
his face.

Josephine’s mother glanced at her husband, who answered:

‘Not much, and we’re not interested either. We just assumed she would eventually realise what a waste of space he was, and leave him.’

‘In what way do you regard him as a waste of space?’ Alex said, making an effort to sound as neutral as possible.

‘A man with a criminal record longer than the Torah is hardly likely to have made very many good choices in life.’

‘So how come you knew about his background?’

Josephine’s father sighed and folded his arms.

‘Contacts,’ he said tersely.

In the police, no doubt, Fredrika thought, and decided not to pursue the matter. Alex seemed to be of the same opinion, and changed tack.

‘Were you aware that they were living together?’

‘Yes.’

‘Were they happy?’

A sound that was somewhere between a sob and a snort escaped Josephine’s mother.

‘
Happy?
I’m sorry, is that supposed to be a serious question?’

She shook her head, angry and upset at the same time.

‘Am I to understand that your daughter was dissatisfied with the relationship?’ Fredrika asked gently.

Or was it just you and your husband who felt that way?

‘Interpret it however you want. I’m not saying that happiness is always the same thing, but the relationship between my daughter –
our
daughter – and that man was rotten.’

‘Rotten to the core,’ Josephine’s father said, as if he felt that his wife’s words needed further clarification. ‘His only contributions were expensive parties and
problems.’

‘He didn’t have a job or an income?’

‘As far as we know he had certain resources, shall we say, but no job.’

‘Was he violent towards her?’ Alex asked.

The question made both parents drop their guard. They looked genuinely stunned.

‘No. No, I don’t believe he was. She would have told us.’

Fredrika didn’t think that was something that could necessarily be taken for granted, but it was probably best to leave Josephine’s parents with that delusion.

‘Did you see your daughter often?’ she asked.

‘Yes, but less so after she moved in with that man.’

‘Was she involved in his criminal activities?’

As Alex spoke Fredrika could see that he might just as well have punched the parents in the face.

‘What the hell are you insinuating?’ the father said. ‘Of course she wasn’t!’

‘Had she had similar boyfriends in the past?’ Fredrika asked, trying to draw attention away from Alex’s question.

‘Never.’

Parents were always parents. They rarely said anything about their children in a way that reflected how things actually were, rather than how they wished they were. The distance between these
two realities could be significant.

Fredrika looked at her watch, then at Alex. There was no reason to continue interviewing the parents. Their answers were mechanical, their tragedy incomprehensible. It was Fredrika and
Alex’s duty to leave them alone.

Fredrika had been spared the loss of those who were near and dear to her. Once she had almost lost Spencer in a car accident; she didn’t even want to think about what
it would have cost her mentally if he had died. She had been expecting their first child at the time, and at long last he had been ready to give up his marriage in order to live with
Fredrika.

And now he wanted to go off to Jerusalem for two weeks. What a brilliant idea. Fredrika didn’t know what bothered her most: the fact that he seemed to think it ought to be achievable in
spite of the short notice, or that she herself would never have considered such a thing.

‘One last question,’ Alex said. ‘What did Josephine do before she qualified as a teacher and started working at the pre-school?’

A pale smile shimmered across her mother’s face.

‘She was lost back then, our Josephine. She tried just about every job you could think of.’

‘And a few you wouldn’t think of,’ her father muttered. ‘But nothing illegal,’ he added quickly.

‘I presume she liked children?’

‘I’m not so sure about that,’ her mother said. ‘But she loved her job, so I suppose she did.’

Fredrika and Alex got to their feet, both feeling relieved at the thought of leaving the apartment. No one wants to visit the province of grief with a one-way ticket.

‘Did she have any enemies?’ Fredrika said as they stood in the doorway.

‘Not that we knew of.’

‘No conflicts or arguments? Not necessarily in the recent past?’

Both parents shook their heads. They looked so abandoned standing there, so desperately lonely.

‘Is there anyone we can call for you?’

‘Thank you, but some close friends are on their way.’

‘In that case, thank you for your time, and once again, our condolences on your incomprehensible loss.’

She felt Alex stiffen as she uttered the last three words.

Your incomprehensible loss.

It sounded so artificial, like something out of a bad play.

‘We’ll be in touch,’ Alex said, opening the door. ‘Please don’t hesitate to call us at any time if anything occurs to you, or if there’s anything we can
do.’

Seconds later they were out in the street, and Fredrika thought that Josephine’s last day had been an unusually cold one.

A
n unusually long day. An unusual start to the new year, in fact. Alex Recht was exhausted; he just wanted the day to end so that he could go home. His mobile rang as soon as he dropped Fredrika
off outside her door.

Diana.

The second great love of his life, the fresh start he hadn’t believed was possible after the death of his wife Lena.

He longed to hear her voice.

But it wasn’t Diana. It was his boss.

‘How did it go with the parents?’

‘I don’t really know what to say, except that we’re none the wiser.’

His boss starting coughing, a rattling, smoker’s cough. As far as Alex knew, smoking was his only vice, but it was remarkable to think that one wrong choice could bring a person so much
closer to the end of their life.

‘We’ve had another call from the Solomon Community.’

Alex waited, hoping this wasn’t more bad news. But it was. First of all came something that he already knew.

‘Have you heard that Peder Rydh has just been appointed as their new head of security?’

‘I found out when they called and asked me for a reference earlier this evening.’

‘What did you say to them?’

‘The same as I always say. That he was a very talented police officer with certain issues regarding his temperament, and one or two problems when it came to his attitude towards women
in the past.’

His boss was coughing again.

‘Issues regarding his temperament? I suppose you could put it that way.’

Alex had no interest in discussing the matter any further. A lot of things would have to change before he stopped supporting Peder Rydh.

‘It’s most unfortunate that he’s been appointed to the post at this particular moment. Don’t you agree?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘I mean, you’re going to have to work with him – have you thought about that?’

‘I’ve worked with Peder before, and we’ve never had any problems.’

Untrue. And he knew it. His boss wasn’t slow to pick him up on his mistake.

‘I’m sorry – you’ve never had any problems?’

Alex couldn’t listen to this; he didn’t have the energy to get involved in a discussion. His current boss had never actually worked with Peder, but knew his history like everyone
else.

‘I know, I know.’

He thought back to the beginning of their conversation.

‘So did the Solomon Community call to ask you for a reference too?’

‘No, they just happened to mention Rydh in connection with the real reason for their call.’

‘Which was?’

‘Two boys who belong to the community didn’t arrive at their tennis coaching session. The parents have reported them missing to the police, and the case should end up on your desk.
You’re the person who’s most familiar with this kind of thing.’