The Ice Princess (44 page)

Vera’s voice bore the mark of many years of fatigue. ‘I probably should be grateful, really. Not so many years ago he wouldn’t have even been allowed to be buried in the public churchyard. He would have been given a spot off to the side, outside church-sanctified ground, a spot specially reserved for suicides. There are still many of the older folks who think that suicides don’t go to heaven.’

She fell silent for a moment. Patrik waited for her to continue.

‘Will there be any legal consequences from what I did to cover up Anders’s suicide?’

‘No, I can guarantee that there will not. It was regrettable that you did what you did, and certainly there are laws about it, but no, I don’t think there will be any consequences.’

They passed the parish house and walked slowly in the direction of Vera’s home, which was only a couple of hundred yards from the church. Patrik had worried all night about how he should proceed, and he had reached a cruel but he hoped successful solution.

Nonchalantly, he said, ‘What I think is most tragic in this whole story with Anders’s and Alex’s death is that a child also had to die.’

Vera turned vehemently towards him. She stopped and grabbed hold of his sleeve.

‘What child? What are you talking about?’

Patrik felt thankful that, against all odds, a lid had been kept on that particular piece of information.

‘Alexandra’s child. She was pregnant when she was murdered. In her third month.’

‘Her husband…’

Vera stammered, but Patrik continued with forced coldness. ‘Her husband had nothing to do with it. They had clearly not had any relations in several years. No, the father seems to be someone she used to meet here in Fjällbacka.’

Vera was holding so hard onto his sleeve that her knuckles turned white.

‘Good Lord. Good, good Lord.’

‘Yes, it’s certainly cruel. To kill an unborn child. According to the autopsy report it was apparently a little boy.’

He was grimacing inside but forced himself not to say any more. Instead he waited for the reaction he was counting on.

They were standing under the big chestnut tree, fifty yards from Vera’s house. When she suddenly exploded in motion he was taken by surprise. She ran surprisingly fast for her age, and it took a couple of seconds for Patrik to recover from the shock and run after her. When he reached her house the front door was wide open and he cautiously stepped inside. Sobbing sounds were heard from the bathroom down the hall, and then he heard her violently throwing up.

It felt wrong to stand there in the hall and wait with cap in hand, listening to her vomiting, so he took off his wet shoes, hung up his coat, and went in to the kitchen. When Vera came out a few minutes later the coffee-maker was bubbling and there were two cups on the kitchen table. She was pale, and for the first time he saw tears. Only a hint, like a glitter in the corner of her eye, but it was enough. Vera sat down stiffly on one of the kitchen chairs.

In a few minutes she had aged many years, and she moved slowly, like a much older woman. Patrik let her have a few more minutes’ respite as he poured coffee for them both. But the moment he sat down he let her know with a stern look that the moment of truth had arrived. She knew that he knew, and there was no turning back.

‘So I murdered my grandson.’

Patrik took it as a rhetorical question and didn’t reply. If he did he’d be forced to lie. Once he’d come this far he couldn’t back up. In time she would find out the truth. But first it was his turn.

‘I knew it was you who murdered Alex when you lied about being there the week before she died. You said that you sat in her cold house freezing, but the furnace didn’t break down until the week after that, the week she died.’

Vera was staring into space, and it seemed that she didn’t even hear what Patrik had said.

‘It’s strange. It’s only now that I actually realize that I took another person’s life. Alexandra’s death was never very real to me, but Anders’s child…I can almost see him before me…’

‘Why did Alex have to die?’

Vera held up her hand. She would tell him everything, but at her own pace.

‘There would have been a scandal. Everyone would have pointed at him and talked about him. I did what I thought was right. I didn’t know that he would still be the object of everyone’s ridicule. That my silence would eat him away inside and strip him of everything of value. It was so simple. Karl-Erik came to me and told me what had happened. He had talked with Nelly before he came to me, and they had reached an agreement. Nothing good would come of having the whole town know about it. It would be our secret, and if I knew what was best for Anders, I would keep my mouth shut. So I shut up. I kept quiet for all those years. But each year robbed Anders of more than the one before. Each year he kept wasting away in his own private hell, and I chose not to see my role in it. I cleaned up after him and supported him as best I could, but the only thing I couldn’t do was to make what happened go away. Silence can never be taken back.’

She had drunk her coffee in a few greedy gulps and raised her cup to Patrik. He got up and fetched the pot and poured her some more. It seemed as though the habit of drinking coffee was what helped her keep a grip on reality.

‘Sometimes I think the silence was worse than the assaults. We never talked about it, not even inside these four walls, and only now do I understand what it must have done to him. Maybe he interpreted my silence as a reproach. That’s the only thing I can’t stand. That he might have thought I was blaming him for what happened. I never thought that, not even for a second, but I’ll never know now whether he knew that.’

For a second the façade looked as if it might crack, but then Vera straightened up and forced herself to go on. Patrik could only imagine what an enormous effort it took.

‘Over the years we found a sort of equilibrium. Even though life was miserable for both of us, we knew what we had and where we stood with each other. Naturally I knew that he still saw Alex occasionally and that they had some sort of strange attraction for one another, but I still believed that we could go on as we had always done. Then Anders told me that Alex wanted to expose what had happened to them. She wanted to clean all the old skeletons out of the closet, I think was what he said. He sounded almost indifferent when he mentioned it, but for me it felt like an electric shock. That would change everything. Nothing would be the same if Alex dragged up old secrets after so many years. What good would it do? And what would people say? Besides, even if Anders tried to pretend that it hadn’t affected him, I knew him better than that. I believe that he didn’t want her to make it public any more than I did. I know—knew, my son.’

‘So you went to visit her.’

‘Yes. I went there that Friday evening hoping to talk some sense into her. Make her understand that she couldn’t single-handedly make a decision that would affect us all.’

‘But she didn’t understand.’

Vera gave a bitter smile. ‘No, she didn’t.’

She had finished her second cup of coffee before Patrik had even finished half of his first one, but now she set the cup aside and folded her hands on the table.

‘I tried to appeal to her. I explained to her how difficult it would be for Anders if she made public what had happened, but she looked me straight in the eye and claimed I was only thinking of myself, not Anders. He would be glad if it finally came out, she said. He had never asked us to keep quiet, and she also told me that I, Nelly, Karl-Erik and Birgit hadn’t considered them when we decided to keep the whole thing secret. We were only interested in keeping our own reputations unsullied. Can you imagine such cheek!’

The rage that a moment before had been ignited in Vera’s eyes was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared and was replaced by an indifferent, dead look. She continued in a monotone.

‘Something burst inside me when I heard her make such an outrageous claim. When I had done everything with Anders’s best interests at heart. I could almost hear a click in my head, and I simply acted without thinking. I had my sleeping pills with me in my purse, and when she went into the kitchen I crumbled a few tablets into her cider glass. She had poured a glass of wine for me when I arrived. When she came back from the kitchen I pretended to accept what she’d said and offered to drink a toast as friends before I left. She seemed grateful for that and drank her cider to keep me company. After a while she fell asleep on the sofa. I hadn’t really thought out what I should do next. The sleeping pills were an impulse on the spur of the moment, but I got the idea that I would make it look like a suicide. I didn’t have enough sleeping pills to force a fatal dose into her. The only thing I could think of was to slit her wrists. I knew that many people did it in the bathtub, so it felt like a feasible idea.’

Her voice was toneless. It sounded as if she were relating a completely normal everyday event, not a murder.

‘I took off all her clothes. I thought I could probably carry her, since my arms are strong from all those years of cleaning, but it was impossible. Instead I had to drag her into the bathroom and manoeuvre her into the tub. Then I slit her arteries in both arms with a razor blade I found in the medicine cabinet. After cleaning the house once a week for several years, I was familiar with everything about it. I washed off the glass I drank out of, turned off the lights, locked the door and put the spare key back in its place.’

Patrik was shaken, but forced his voice to remain calm.

‘You understand that you’ll have to come with me now, don’t you? I won’t have to call for reinforcements, will I?’

‘No, you don’t have to do that. May I just gather up a few things to take with me?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, that will be fine.’

She got up. In the doorway she turned round.

‘How was I to know she was pregnant? Of course, she didn’t drink any wine, I thought of that, but I had no idea that was why. Maybe she only drank in moderation, or had to drive somewhere. How should I know? It was impossible for me to know, don’t you think?’

Her voice was pleading, and Patrik could only nod mutely. In time he would tell her that the child wasn’t Anders’s, but for the time being he didn’t want to disturb the balance of trust they had established. There were several more people she would have to tell her story to before they could close the case on Alexandra Wijkner for good. But something was bothering him. His intuition told him that Vera still hadn’t told him everything.

Later, when he got into the car he took out his copy of the letter that Anders had left behind, as his last message to the world. Slowly he read through what Anders had written, and once again Patrik felt how strong the pain was behind those words on the page.

The irony of my life has often struck me. How I have the ability to create beauty with my fingers and my eyes, while in everything else I’m only able to create ugliness and destruction. That’s why the last thing I’m going to do is destroy my paintings. To obtain some kind of consistency in my life. Better to be consistent and only leave shit behind than to appear to be a more complex person than I deserve
.

Actually, I’m very simple. The only thing I ever wanted to do was to erase a few months and events from my life. I don’t think that would have been too much to ask. But perhaps I deserved what I got in life. Perhaps I had done something terrible in a previous life that made me have to pay the price in this one. Not that it really makes any difference. But if so it would have been nice to know what I was paying for
.

Why am I now choosing this particular moment to leave a life that has been meaningless for so long, you may ask? Yes, go ahead and say it. Why does anyone do something at a certain point in time? Did I love Alex so much that life lost any and all meaning? That’s probably one of the explanations you’ll be grasping for. I don’t actually know if that would be entirely true. Death is a friend that I’ve lived with for a long time, but only now do I feel that I’m ready. Perhaps it was precisely the fact that Alex died that made my own freedom possible. She was always the unattainable one. It was impossible to make the slightest dent in her shell. The fact that she could die suddenly opened wide the possibility that 1 might go in the same way. I have long been packed and ready, all that remains is to climb aboard
.

Forgive me, Mamma
.

Anders

He had never managed to shake off the habit of getting up early, or in the middle of the night as some might say. It was something that in this case proved to be useful. Svea didn’t react when he got up at four a.m., but for safety’s sake he sneaked cautiously down the stairs with his clothes in his hand. Eilert dressed silently in the living room and then took out his suitcase which he had carefully hidden in the very back of the pantry. He had planned this for months, and nothing had been left to chance. Today was the first day of the rest of his life.

The car started on the first try despite the cold, and at twenty past four he left behind the house where he had lived for the past fifty years. He drove through a sleeping Fjällbacka and didn’t step hard on the gas before he passed the old mill and turned off towards Dingle. It was a good 125 miles to Göteborg and Landvetter Airport, and he could take it easy. The plane to Spain didn’t leave until around eight o’clock.

He was finally going to live his life the way he wanted to live it.

He had been planning this for a long time, for many years. The aches and pains got worse with each passing year, and so did the frustration over his life with Svea. Eilert thought he deserved better. On the Internet, he had found a little boarding-house in a small town on the Costa del Sol. A bit away from the beaches and the tourist area, so the price was reasonable. He had sent e-mails and checked that he could live there year-round if he wanted. In fact, the landlady would give him an even better price if he did. It had taken a long time to save up the money under Svea’s vigilant eye that watched everything he did, but finally he had succeeded. He reckoned that he could support himself for about two years on his present savings if he lived frugally, and after that he would simply have to find a way. Right now nothing could restrain his enthusiasm.

For the first time in fifty years he felt free, and he found himself giving the old Volvo a little extra gas out of sheer joy. He would leave the car in the long-term car park. Svea would find out where it was soon enough. Not that it mattered. She had never got a driving licence but used Eilert as unpaid chauffeur whenever she needed to drive anywhere. The only thing that weighed on his conscience a little was the children. On the other hand, they had always been more Svea’s children than his, and to his sorrow they had become just as petty and narrow-minded as she was. He was undoubtedly partly to blame, since he worked long hours and then found all sorts of excuses to stay away from home as much as possible. But he had still decided to send them a postcard from Landvetter to tell them that he had left of his own free will and that they didn’t have to worry. He also didn’t want them to instigate any big police hunt to find him.

The roads were empty as he drove along in the dark, and he didn’t even turn on the radio. He wanted to enjoy the silence instead. Now that his life was beginning.

‘I just have a hard time understanding it. I can’t believe that Vera would murder Alex so that she wouldn’t talk about assaults against her and Anders that took place over twenty-five years ago.’

Erica swirled her wine glass meditatively.

‘You should never underestimate the need not to make waves in a small town,’ said Patrik. ‘If the old story about the assaults were to come out, people would have a new reason to point their fingers. On the other hand I don’t believe Vera when she says that she did it for Anders’s sake. Maybe she’s right that Anders didn’t want everyone to know what happened to them. But I think it’s mostly Vera who couldn’t stand the thought of what people would be whispering behind her back. Especially if it got out that Anders wasn’t merely the victim of sexual assault as a child, but that his mother did nothing about it; in fact, she helped cover everything up. I think it was the shame that she couldn’t bear. She killed Alex on the spur of the moment when she realized that Alex wasn’t going to budge. Vera got an impulse, which she carried out in a methodical and cold-blooded way.’

‘How is she taking it now? Now that she’s been exposed, I mean?’

‘She’s surprisingly calm. I think she was immensely relieved when we told her that Anders wasn’t the father of the child, and so she hadn’t murdered her unborn grandchild after all. Now she doesn’t seem to care what happens to her. And why should she? Her son is dead, she has no friends, no life. Everything has been uncovered, and she has nothing more to lose. Only her freedom, and that doesn’t mean much to her right now, or so it seems.’

They were sitting in Patrik’s flat sharing a bottle of wine after having dinner together. Erica was enjoying the peace and quiet. She loved having Anna and the kids staying with her, but sometimes it was too much, and today had been one of those days. Patrik was tied up in the interrogation all day, but when he finished he came and collected her along with her little overnight bag. Now they were sitting curled up on the sofa like any hardworking older couple.

Erica closed her eyes. The moment was wonderful and frightening at the same time. Everything was so perfect, and yet she couldn’t help thinking that this might mean it would be all downhill from here. She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if she moved back to Stockholm. She and Anna had skirted the question of the house for several days; as if by tacit agreement, they had decided not to deal with it yet. And Erica believed that Anna was in no condition to make any big decisions, so she had let it lie.

But tonight she didn’t want to think about the future. Better not to think about tomorrow at all and instead try to enjoy the moment as much as she could. She pushed away all the gloomy thoughts.

‘I talked to the publishers today,’ she told Patrik. ‘I mentioned the book about Alex.’

‘So, what did they say?’ The eager look in Patrik’s eyes pleased her.

‘They thought the idea sounded brilliant and wanted me to send them the material I have right away. I still have to finish writing the book about Selma Lagerlöf, but they gave me an extra month, so now I’ve promised to have the biography ready by September. I actually think I can manage to work on both of them at the same time. It’s been going fairly well so far.’

‘What did your publishers say about the legal aspect? Do they think there’s a risk of being sued by Alex’s family?’

‘The law on freedom of the press is quite clear. I have the right to write about her, even without their approval. But of course I hope that they’ll be supportive, after I have a chance to explain the project to them and what I envision for the book. I really don’t want to write a sensational story with no substance. I want to write about what actually happened and who Alex really was.’

‘And what about the market? Did they think there would be interest in this sort of book?’

Patrik’s eyes were gleaming. Erica was pleased that he was so enthusiastic on her behalf. He knew how much this book meant to her and wanted to share her interest.

‘We both think there should be quite a lot of interest. In the States, the demand for true-crime books is enormous. The biggest author in the genre, Ann Rule, sells millions of copies. Here in Sweden, it’s quite a new phenomenon. There are a few books along that line, such as the one that was written a couple of years ago about the case of the doctor and the pathologist, but nothing that’s purely true-crime. Just like Ann Rule, I would want to put a lot of effort into the research. Check facts, interview everyone involved, and then write a book that was as true as possible to what actually happened.’

‘Do you think that Alex’s family will agree to be interviewed?’

‘I don’t know.’ Erica twisted a lock of hair round her finger. ‘I really don’t know. But I’m definitely going to ask them, and if they don’t want to participate I’ll have to find a way around it somehow. I have an enormous advantage because I already know a lot about them. I must say I’m a little hesitant to ask them, but I’ll just have to deal with it. If this book sells well, I wouldn’t have anything against continuing to write about interesting legal cases, and then I’d have to get used to being a little pushy with relatives. That’s part of the job description. I also think that people have a need to speak their piece, to tell their story. Both from the victim’s and the perpetrator’s point of view.’

‘In other words, you’re going to try and talk to Vera as well.’

‘Yes, absolutely. I have no idea whether she’ll agree to it, but I intend to try at any rate. Maybe she’ll talk, maybe she won’t. I can’t force her.’

She shrugged her shoulders in a gesture of indifference, but clearly it would be a much better book if she could get Vera to participate. What she’d written so far was only an outline; now she had to get busy putting some meat on the bones.

‘What about you?’ She turned a little on the sofa and put her legs in Patrik’s lap, who took the hint and obediently began massaging her feet.

‘How was your day? Are you the big hero at the station now?’

The deep sigh from Patrik indicated that this was not the case.

‘No, you don’t think Mellberg would give credit where credit was due, do you? He’s been shuttling back and forth all day between the interrogation room and various press conferences. His most frequent pronoun in conversations with reporters has been “I”. I’d be surprised if he even mentioned my name. But what the heck. Who wants to see their name in print anyway? I arrested a murderer yesterday and that’s enough for me.’

‘You’re certainly being noble about it all.’ Erica punched him playfully on the arm. ‘Admit that you would have liked standing up there in front of the microphone at a big press conference, puffing out your chest and telling them about how brilliantly you managed to figure out who the murderer was.’

‘All right, it would have been kind of cool to get at least a little mention in the local paper. But that’s not going to happen. Mellberg is going to steal all the glory for himself, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.’

‘Do you think he’ll get that transfer he wants so much?’

‘If only he would. But I suspect the chiefs in Göteborg are quite pleased to have him where he is. I’m afraid we’ll probably have to put up with him until he retires. And that day seems very remote right now.’

‘Poor Patrik.’ She stroked his hair, and he took this as a signal to jump on her and pin her to the sofa.

The wine had made her limbs heavy, and the heat of his body spread slowly to hers. His breathing changed; he was breathing harder. But Erica still had some questions for him. She struggled up to a sitting position, and with moderate force she shoved him away, back to his own corner.

‘But are you satisfied with everything? What about Nils’s disappearance, for instance? You didn’t find out anything more from Vera?’

‘No, she claims not to know anything about it. Unfortunately, I don’t believe her. I think she had an even more serious reason for protecting Anders than that people would find out that Nils had assaulted him. I think she knew precisely what happened to Nils, and that secret had to be preserved at all costs. But I have to admit it bothers me that it’s still only speculation on my part. People just don’t go up in smoke. He’s out there somewhere, and there’s somebody who knows where. But I do have a theory.’

Patrik then went through the probable course of events step by step and explained the circumstances behind his idea. Erica saw that he was shivering, despite the heat in the room. It sounded unbelievable, and yet strangely plausible. She also understood that Patrik would never be able to prove any of what he was saying. And even if he could, it probably wouldn’t do any good. So many years had passed. So many lives had already been destroyed. No good would come of destroying one more.

‘I know that this will never lead to anything. And yet I want to know, for my own sake. I’ve been living with this case for several weeks now, and I want to find some sort of resolution.’

‘So what are you going to do? What can you do, for that matter?’

Patrik sighed. ‘I’m simply going to ask for a few answers. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?’

Erica gave him a searching glance. ‘It doesn’t seem like such a good idea, but I’m sure you know best.’

‘I hope so. Could we leave death and sorrow behind for the rest of the evening, and concentrate on each other instead?’

‘I think that sounds like a brilliant idea.’

He crawled over on top of her again, and this time no one pushed him off.

When he left home Erica was still in bed. He hadn’t had the heart to wake her but quietly got up, dressed and drove off.

He had sensed a certain surprise but also a cautious anticipation when he booked this meeting. The condition had been that they meet discreetly, and Patrik had no problem going along with that. That’s why he was now up at seven on a Tuesday morning. As he drove towards Fjällbacka in the dark he passed only a few oncoming cars. He turned off at the sign that said Väddö, and drove a little further before parking in the lot. His was the only car there. Then he waited. After ten minutes, another car turned into the lot and parked beside his. The driver stepped out, opened the passenger door of Patrik’s car and got in. Patrik left his car idling so he could leave the heater on, otherwise they would soon be frozen through.

‘It seems rather exciting, meeting in secret like this under the cover of darkness. My only question is why.’ Jan was completely relaxed, but he had a puzzled look on his face. ‘I thought the investigation was over. You have Alex’s murderer, don’t you?’

‘Yes, that’s true. But there are still a few pieces that don’t really fit, and it’s bothering me.’

‘I see. What exactly doesn’t fit?’

Jan’s face betrayed no emotions. Patrik wondered whether it would turn out that he had got up at this ungodly hour for nothing. But now that he was here, he might as well finish what he’d started.

‘As you may have heard, Alexandra and Anders were molested by your stepbrother Nils.’

‘Yes, I heard that. Terrible. Especially for Mother’s sake.’

‘Although it wasn’t really news to her. She already knew about it.’

‘Of course she did. She handled the situation in the only way she knew how. With the greatest possible discretion. The family name had to be protected, that’s obvious. Everything else was secondary.’