The Stonecutter. Camilla Lackberg
up a small storm of protest, I must say.’ He chuckled. ‘A storm of protest in Fjällbacka. Can you hear my knees shaking?’ Kaj opened his eyes wide and pretended to look scared, and then burst out laughing. Then he collected himself and went on, ‘Well, we managed, of course, to take the wind out of that little commotion, even though it cost us both time and money. But since then it’s been one thing after another. And I’m sure you know the extremes she’s willing to go to. It’s simply been hell all these years.’ He leaned back and crossed one leg over the other.
‘Couldn’t you have sold the house and moved somewhere else?’ Patrik asked cautiously, but the question sparked a fire in Kaj’s eyes.
‘Move? Not on your life! I would never give her the satisfaction. If anyone should move, she should. Now I’m just waiting for word from the court of appeal.’
‘The court of appeal?’ Patrik asked.
‘They built a balcony on their house without checking the building code first. And it sticks out two centimetres onto my property, so it’s against the law. They’re going to have to tear that balcony down as soon as the verdict comes in. It should be coming any day now, and I can’t wait to see Lilian’s face,’ Kaj beamed.
‘Don’t you think that they have bigger concerns at the moment than the existence or non-existence of a balcony?’ Patrik couldn’t help interjecting.
Kaj’s face darkened. ‘Certainly I’m not insensitive to their tragedy, but fair’s fair. And such things are of no concern to Lady Justice,’ he added, looking to Ernst for support. Ernst nodded appreciatively, giving Patrik yet another reason to worry about the suitability of his participation in this investigation. There was enough cause for concern even before it turned out that Ernst was mates with one of the persons on their interview list.
They split up to cover the houses in the vicinity. Ernst muttered as he trudged through the biting wind. His tall body seemed to catch the wind quite effectively, and his lankiness made him sway back and forth, fighting to keep his balance. He could taste the gall at the back of his mouth. Once again he had to take orders from a snot-nosed kid who was scarcely half his age. It was a mystery to Ernst. Why were his years of experience and skill constantly overlooked? A conspiracy was the only explanation he could come up with. He was a bit fuzzy as to the motive or the brains behind it all, but that didn’t bother him. Apparently he was regarded as a threat precisely because of the qualities he knew he possessed.
Knocking on doors was deadly boring, and he wished he were inside where it was warm. People had nothing sensible to say, either. No one had seen the little girl that morning, and all they could say was how terrible it all was. And Ernst had to agree. It was lucky that he’d never been stupid enough to have kids. He’d managed to keep his distance from women too, he thought, effectively suppressing the fact that it was the women who had never shown much interest in him.
He glanced over at Hedström, who was covering the houses to the right of the Florins. Sometimes his fingers itched to give his colleague a punch in the nose. He had seen the look in Hedström’s eyes when he was forced to take him along this morning. That had actually given Ernst a brief moment of satisfaction. Otherwise Hedström and Molin were as thick as thieves, and they refused to listen to older colleagues like himself and Gösta. Well, Gösta was probably not the best example of a good cop, Ernst had to admit, but his many years on the force deserved respect. And it was no wonder that he’d lost interest in putting any energy into his job under the current conditions. When Ernst thought about it more closely, it was probably the fault of the younger officers that he often didn’t feel like working and instead made a point of sneaking off on breaks whenever possible. It was a comforting thought. Naturally it wasn’t his fault. Not that he hadn’t had pangs of guilt about his lacklustre work performance, but it felt good that he’d finally put his finger on the source of the problem. The crux of the matter, so to speak. It was all because of those snot-nosed kids. All at once life felt much, much better. He knocked on the next door.
Frida was carefully combing the doll’s hair. It was important for her to look good because she was going to a party. The table in front of her was already set with coffee and cakes. Tiny little plastic cups with fancy red plates. Naturally they were only pretend cakes, but dolls couldn’t eat real ones, so that didn’t matter.
Sara had always thought it was dumb to play with dolls. She said they were too old for that. Dolls were for babies, Sara had said, but Frida loved playing with dolls. Sara could be so tiresome sometimes. She always had to be the one to decide. Everything had to be the way she wanted it, or else she would sulk and break things. Mamma would get really mad at Sara when she broke Frida’s things. Then Sara would have to go home, and Mamma would ring Sara’s mamma and her voice sounded so angry. But when Sara was nice then Frida liked her a lot, so she still wanted to play with her. Just hoping that she’d be nice.
She didn’t understand what had happened to Sara. Mamma had explained that she was dead, that she’d drowned in the sea, but where was she then? In heaven, Mamma had said, but Frida had stood for a long, long time looking up at the sky, and she hadn’t seen Sara. She was sure that if Sara had been in heaven she would have waved to her. Since she hadn’t, that must mean she wasn’t there. So the question was: where was she? She couldn’t just disappear, could she? Imagine if Mamma disappeared like that. Frida felt scared all over. If Sara could disappear, could mammas disappear too? She hugged her doll tight to her chest, trying to push away that nasty idea.
There was something else she wondered about too. Mamma had said that the old men who rang the doorbell and told them about Sara were police officers. Frida knew that you were supposed to tell the police everything. You could never lie to them. But she had promised Sara not to tell anybody about the nasty old man. Did she have to keep her promise to someone who was gone? If Sara was gone, then she wouldn’t find out that Frida had told about the old man. But what if she came back and heard that Frida had tattled? Then she’d be madder than she ever was before. She might even smash everything in Frida’s room, including her doll. Frida decided that it was best not to say anything about the nasty old man.
‘Flygare, have you got a minute?’ Patrik had been careful to knock on Gösta’s door, but he saw his colleague hastily shut down a golf game on his computer.
‘Sure, I probably have a minute,’ said Gösta sullenly, painfully aware that Patrik had glimpsed his less than noble pursuit during working hours. ‘Is this about the girl?’ he went on in a more pleasant tone. ‘I heard from Annika that it wasn’t an accident. Bloody awful,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘Yes, Ernst and I have just been out talking with the family,’ Patrik said, taking a seat in the visitor’s chair. ‘We told them that it’s now a murder investigation. We asked all the family members where they were at the time Sara disappeared, and whether they knew anyone who’d want to harm her.’
Gösta gave Patrik an inquisitive look. ‘Do you think that someone in the family might have killed her?’
‘Right now I don’t think anything. But in any case, it’s important to eliminate them from the investigation as soon as possible. At the same time we’ll have to check whether there are any known sex offenders in the area.’
‘But I thought the girl hadn’t been violated, from what Annika told me,’ said Gösta.
‘Not according to what the M.E. could see, but a little girl who’s been murdered …’ Patrik didn’t finish his sentence, but Gösta understood what he meant. There had been far too many stories in the media about the exploitation of children for them to ignore that possibility.
‘On the other hand,’ Patrik went on, ‘to my surprise I got an immediate answer when I asked whether they knew anyone who might wish them harm.’
Gösta held up his hand. ‘Let me guess: Lilian threw Kaj to the wolves.’
Patrik gave a little frown at the expression. ‘Well, I suppose you could put it that way. In any event there doesn’t seem to be any love lost between them. We canvassed the neighbourhood and had an informal interview with Kaj as well. You