The Stonecutter. Camilla Lackberg
she was drowned in a bathtub?’ said Martin, sounding sceptical. They had been so convinced that it was a tragic yet normal drowning accident that he was having a hard time adjusting to this new theory.
‘Yes, that’s what it looks like. It also explains the bruises that Pedersen found on the body.’
‘I thought you said there were no injuries to the body?’
‘Well, not at first glance. But when he lifted the hair on the back of her neck and checked more thoroughly, he could clearly see bruises that match the imprint of a hand. The hand of someone who held her head under the surface by force.’
‘Jesus Christ.’ Martin looked like he was going to be sick. Patrik had felt the same way when he first heard the news. ‘So we’re dealing with a homicide,’ said Martin, as if trying to make himself face the fact.
‘Yes, and we’ve already lost two days. We have to start knocking on doors, interviewing the family and friends, and finding out all we can about the girl and those who knew her.’
Martin grimaced, and Patrik understood his reaction. This wasn’t going to be fun. The family was already devastated, and now the police would have to go in and stir everything up again. All too often, children were murdered by someone who ought to grieve the most over the death. So Patrik and Martin couldn’t display the sympathy that would normally be expected when meeting with a family that had lost a child.
‘Have you been in to see Mellberg yet?’
‘No,’ Patrik sighed. ‘But I’m going there now. Since we were the ones who took the call the other day, I thought I’d ask you to join me in conducting the investigation. Do you have any objections?’ He knew that the question was merely rhetorical. Neither of them wanted to see their colleagues Ernst Lundgren or Gösta Flygare be put in charge of anything more challenging than bicycle thefts.
Martin nodded curtly in reply.
‘Okay,’ said Patrik, ‘then we might as well get it over with.’
Superintendent Mellberg looked at the letter before him as if it were a poisonous snake. This was one of the worst things that could have happened to him. Even that mortifying incident with Irina last summer paled in comparison.
Tiny beads of sweat had formed on his brow, although the temperature in his office was rather on the cool side. Mellberg wiped off the sweat absentmindedly and at the same time managed to dislodge the few strands left of his hair, which he had carefully wound in a nest atop his bald head. Annoyed, he was trying to put everything back in place when there was a knock on the door. He gave his hair one last pat and called out a surly ‘Come in!’
Hedström seemed unperturbed by Mellberg’s tone of voice, but he had an uncommonly serious look on his face. Normally the superintendent thought that Patrik too often displayed a distasteful lack of decorum. He preferred working with men like Ernst Lundgren, who always treated their superiors with the respect they deserved. When it came to Hedström he always had the feeling that the man might stick his tongue out as soon as he turned his back. But time would separate the wheat from the chaff, Mellberg thought sternly. With his long experience in police work, he knew that the guys who were too soft and the ones who joked around always broke first.
For a second he had managed to forget the contents of the letter, but when Hedström sat down in the chair across his desk, Mellberg remembered that it was lying there in full view. He quickly slipped the letter into his top drawer. He would have to deal with that matter soon enough.
‘So, what’s going on?’ Mellberg could hear his voice quavering a bit from the shock of the letter, and he forced himself to bring it under control. Never show weakness – that was his motto. If he exposed his throat to his subordinates they would soon sink their teeth into it.
‘A homicide,’ Patrik said tensely.
‘What now?’ Mellberg sighed. ‘Has one of our old iron-fisted acquaintances managed to hit his wife in the head a little too hard?’
Hedström’s face was still unusually resolute. ‘No,’ he said, ‘it’s about the drowning accident the other day. Or rather it wasn’t an accident after all. The girl was murdered.’
Mellberg gave a low whistle. ‘You don’t say, you don’t say,’ he murmured as confused thoughts ran through his head. For one thing, he was always upset by crimes perpetrated against children, and for another he tried to do a rapid evaluation of how this unexpected development would affect him in his capacity as police chief of Tanumshede. There were two ways to look at it: either as a damned lot of extra work and administration, or as a means of advancing his career that might get him back to the excitement of the big city, Göteborg. Although he had to admit that the successful conclusion of the two homicide investigations he had been involved with up to now had not yielded the desired effect. But, sooner or later, something would convince his superiors that he belonged back at the main station. Perhaps this was just the ticket.
He realized that Hedström was waiting for some other type of response from him and hastily added, ‘You mean someone murdered a child? Well, that pervert isn’t going to get away with it.’ Mellberg clenched his fist to stress the gravity of his words, but that only managed to induce a worried expression in Patrik’s eyes.
‘Don’t you want to know the cause of death?’ Hedström asked, as if wanting to lend him a helping hand. Mellberg found his tone of voice extremely irritating.
‘Of course, I was just getting to that. So, what did the M.E. say about the case?’
‘She drowned, but not in the sea. They found only fresh water in her lungs, and since they also found the residue of soap and shampoo, Pedersen assumes it’s probably bathwater. So the girl, Sara, was presumably drowned indoors in a bathtub and then carried down to the sea and thrown in. It was an attempt to make it look like an accident.’
The image that Hedström’s account conjured up in Mellberg’s mind made the chief shiver, and for a moment he forgot all about his own chances of promotion. He assumed he’d seen just about everything during his years on the force. He was proud of being able to maintain a sense of objectivity, but there was something about the murder of children that made it impossible to remain unmoved. It crossed the boundaries of all decency to attack a little girl. The feeling of indignation that the murder awoke inside him was unfamiliar but, he actually had to admit, quite pleasant.
‘No obvious perpetrator?’ he asked.
Hedström shook his head. ‘No, we don’t know of any problems in the family, and there have been no other reported attacks on children in Fjällbacka. Nothing like this. So we should probably start by interviewing the family, don’t you agree?’ asked Patrik tentatively.
Mellberg understood at once what he was getting at. He had no objections. It had worked fine in the past to let Hedström do the legwork, and then he could step into the spotlight when the case was resolved. Not that it was anything to be ashamed of. After all, knowing how to delegate responsibilities was the key to successful leadership.
‘It sounds as though you’d like to head up this investigation.’
‘Well, I’m actually already on the case. Martin and I responded to the call when it came in, and we’ve met with the girl’s family.’
‘Well, that sounds like a good idea, then,’ Mellberg said, nodding in agreement. ‘Just see that you keep me informed.’
‘All right,’ said Hedström with a nod, ‘then Martin and I will get going on it.’
‘Martin?’ said Mellberg in an ominous tone. He was still irritated at the lack of respect in Patrik’s voice and now saw a chance to put him in his place. Sometimes Hedström acted as if he was the chief of this station. This would be an excellent opportunity to show him who made the decisions around here.
‘No, I don’t think I can spare Martin at the moment. I assigned him to investigate a series of car thefts yesterday,