Camilla Lackberg Crime Thrillers 1-3: The Ice Princess, The Preacher, The Stonecutter. Camilla Lackberg
to tell you as soon as I can. I’m incredibly grateful that you told me all this, and I’ll get busy with the paperwork so that you won’t have any problems.’
He waved and left.
After he was gone Siv stayed at her desk. Her red glasses hung on their cord round her neck, and she rubbed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger as she closed her eyes.
At the same moment that Patrik stepped out into the snowdrifts on the pavement, his mobile phone rang. His fingers had already grown stiff in the bitter cold, and he had a hard time getting the little lid of his mobile open. He hoped it was Erica but was disappointed when he saw that it was the station’s dispatch number blinking on the display.
‘Patrik Hedström. Hi, Annika. No, I’m right outside social services. Okay, but give me a minute or two and I’ll be back at the station.’
He snapped the lid shut. Annika had done it again. She had found something that didn’t add up in Alex’s CV.
The snow squeaked under his feet as Patrik jogged in the direction of the station. The snowplough had passed by while he was visiting Siv, and the return wasn’t the same struggle as before. Few brave souls were venturing out in the cold weather, and the main street was deserted except for an occasional passer-by hurrying along with collar turned up and cap pulled down as protection from the cold.
Inside the door of the station Patrik stamped off the snow that had collected on his shoes. He made a note that snow in combination with street shoes made socks unpleasantly wet. He should have been able to figure that out in advance.
He went straight to Annika’s office. She was clearly waiting for him, and from the pleased expression on her face he could see that what she’d found was good, really good.
‘Are all your clothes in the wash, or what?’
At first Patrik didn’t understand the question, but judging from her teasing smile it was a joke at his expense. The penny dropped a second later and he looked down at what he was wearing. Damn, he hadn’t changed clothes since the day before yesterday. He wondered if he smelled a bit, or if he smelled a lot.
He muttered something in reply to Annika’s comment and tried to glare at her as evilly as he could. She found this even more amusing.
‘Yeah, yeah, I get it,’ Patrik said. ‘Now get to the point. Speak up, woman!’
He slammed his fist onto her desk in feigned rage. A vase of flowers responded instantly by toppling over and spilling water all over.
‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. I’m so damn clumsy …’
He searched for something to wipe up the water, but Annika was a step ahead of him as usual and produced a roll of paper towels from somewhere behind the desk. She calmly began wiping off her desk as she gave a now-familiar command to Patrik.
‘Sit!’
He obeyed at once, thinking it rather unfair that she didn’t throw him a sweet as reward for being so clever.
‘Shall we begin?’ Annika didn’t wait for Patrik’s answer but began to read from her computer screen.
‘Now let’s see. I started with the time of her death and worked backwards. Everything seems to add up for the time she lived in Göteborg. She started the art gallery with her friend in 1989. Before that she went to university for five years in France, majoring in art history. I received her transcript by fax today, and she took her exams on time and passed them. She attended high school at Hvitfeldtska in Göteborg. I also got her grades from there. She was no brilliant student, but no slouch either. She consistently stayed in the middle.’
Annika paused and looked at Patrik, who was leaning over and trying to read ahead on her screen. She turned it away from him a little so he couldn’t read her discovery prematurely.
‘Before that it was a boarding school in Switzerland. She went to an international school, L’École de Chevalier, which costs a fortune.’ Annika put great emphasis on the last phrase.
‘According to the information I got when I rang them, it costs about a hundred thousand kronor per semester, not counting room, board, clothes and books. And I checked – the prices were just as high when Alexandra Wijkner attended.’
Her words were absorbed thoughtfully by Patrik, who was thinking out loud. ‘So the question is, how the Carlgren family could afford to send Alex to that school. From what I understood, Birgit has always been a housewife, and it would be impossible for Karl-Erik to earn enough money to cover such expenses. Did you check –’
Annika interrupted him. ‘Yes, I asked who was responsible for Alexandra’s tuition, but they don’t give out that sort of information. The only thing that could make them more forthcoming would be an order from the Swiss police, but with that bureaucracy it would take us at least six months to get it. I began at the other end instead and started checking the Carlgren family’s finances over the years. Perhaps they inherited some money, who knows? I’m waiting for a report from the bank, but it will take a couple of days before we have it. But …’ another rhetorical pause, ‘that’s not even the most interesting thing. According to the Carlgren family’s statements, Alex started boarding school during the spring semester of 1977. According to the school’s register she didn’t start until spring 1978.’
Annika leaned back in her chair triumphantly and crossed her arms.
‘Are you sure?’ Patrik could hardly control his excitement.
‘I checked and double-checked and even triple-checked. The year from spring of ’77 to spring of ’78 is missing from Alex’s life. We have no idea where she was. The family moved away from here in March 1977 and then there’s nothing, not a single shred of information until Alex starts at the school in Switzerland. At the same time, her parents show up in Göteborg. They buy a house, and Karl-Erik starts his new job as CEO of a medium-sized company in the wholesale trade.’
‘So we also don’t know where the parents were during this period?’
‘No, not yet. But I’m continuing to search. The only thing we know is that there wasn’t any data to indicate that they were in Sweden during that year.’
Patrik counted on his fingers. ‘Alex was born in 1967, so she was, let’s see, ten years old in 1977.’
Annika checked the screen again. ‘She was born on January 3, so that’s right, she was ten when they moved.’
Patrik nodded thoughtfully. It was valuable information that Annika had managed to dig up, but right now it only gave rise to more questions. Where was the Carlgren family from 1977 to 1978? A whole family couldn’t just disappear. They must have left some sort of trail; it was simply a matter of finding it. At the same time there had to be something more. The information that Alex had had a child earlier still baffled him.
‘Didn’t you find any other gap in her history? For example, couldn’t somebody have taken the tests in her name at the university? Or couldn’t her partner at the gallery have run it by herself for a period? It’s not that I don’t trust what you found out, but maybe you should double-check the facts again. And check the hospital records to see if any Alexandra Carlgren or Wijkner gave birth to a child. Start at the Göteborg hospitals, and if you don’t find anything there, then work your way out into the countryside. There must be some record of the birth somewhere. A child can’t simply go up in smoke.’
‘Couldn’t she have had the baby abroad? During her time at the boarding school, for instance? Or in France?’
‘Of course, why didn’t I think of that? See if it’s possible to get anything through international channels. And see if you can find any way to trace where the Carlgrens went. Passports, visas, embassies. Somewhere there must be a record of where they went.’
Annika was taking notes for dear life.
‘By the way, have any of the others found anything worthwhile yet?’
‘Ernst