Frozen Moment (28 page)

    'Are
the houses around here mostly summer cottages?'

    Gonzales
made a start on the cake, since it seemed no one else was going to.

    'Yes,
more or less.' Fru Persson nodded. 'There's the Transtroms' that you passed at
the top of the hill, the red house - they live here all the time. Then there's
a young couple who moved in not very long ago if you carry on past Bart's
place. It looks as if the road comes to an end there, but it doesn't. They've
got a little shop in Borås. Berntsson, their name is. And then there was Bart,
of course - he lived here all year round. It's just terrible. I still can't
believe it.'

    'Did
you know Olof Bart well?'

    
'Definitely not.'
She made a defensive gesture with her
hand. 'We didn't know him at all. I think we only spoke a couple of times. It's
a bit odd when you live so close, but… He wasn't the kind to invite you in, if
you know what I mean. Not that we have a great deal to do with our other
neighbours. We keep ourselves to ourselves, but we help each other out if
necessary. When we were doing some building we were down at his place a couple
of times to fetch water, but he wasn't all that talkative.'

    'You
never went inside each other's houses?' asked Gonzales.

    Fru
Persson looked surprised.

    'Well
yes, when we were fetching the water. Ernst went into his house - he said it
was a real mess.'

    She
appeared to be thinking.

    'That's
it, yes. Our boiler was playing up and he came to give Ernst a hand. It was a
friend of ours, Anders, who told us that Olof could fix all kinds of equipment.
Anders owns a heating and plumbing shop, and he also has a warehouse just
outside the village. Olof had done some casual work for him in the past…'

    'Anders?'
Frisk's pen was poised over her notebook.

    
'Franzén, with a z. Nyponvägen 13.'

    'Thank
you. Can I ask whether you've been down to Bart's place since he was killed?'

    Anette
Persson flushed red.

    'Well…
Ernst did pop down. We wondered why the police were here, naturally, but the
body was already gone by then.'

    Frisk
made a big production of looking at Gonzales, who nodded thoughtfully.

    'Can
you think of anyone who might have done something like this to your neighbour?'

    'No.
As I said, we didn't really know him.'

    Gonzales
stood up, partly to try to get the circulation going in his legs and partly to
look over the hedge.

    'Only
you and Bart and the young couple use this road, is that right? It comes to an
end after that?'

    Anette
Persson nodded, appearing to discover her coffee all of a sudden. It must have
been cold as she took a tentative sip. She looked anxiously at Gonzales over
her cup.

    'It's
important that you think very carefully about this, fru Persson. Did you see an
unfamiliar car, a stranger, anything at all out of the ordinary before Bart was
found dead?'

    Fru
Persson took a deep breath. 'I'd just got up, and I was extremely tired. It was
still dark, of course, but I did see a car I didn't recognise. And it was
driving down towards Bart's place.'

    
'When?'

    'Well,
the same morning the police turned up. It was just before four, I'm sure of
that because I couldn't sleep and I'd been lying there, looking at the clock.'

    'Did
you notice anything else? What colour was the car?'

    She
sighed. 'I can't say because it was dark, and besides -' she frowned'- it just
had on… what are they called? Fog lights, or hazard lights, I don't know. But
it must have been really difficult to see the track ahead. I remember, because
I thought it was peculiar.'

    
'This business with the lights?'

    
'Everything.
The time, above all.
Bart doesn't usually have visitors. And it was so quiet as well. I think the
car must have been moving down the hill with the engine switched off, because
otherwise I'd have heard it. But it was almost completely silent, just a faint
crunching on the gravel. It was a bit ghostly.'

    
'And?'

    There
was an air of desperation about fru Persson as she shrugged her shoulders.

    
'Nothing.
I went back to bed, put my earplugs in and managed
to fall asleep. I have earplugs because Ernst snores,' she explained, seemingly
relieved that the conversation had moved on to safer ground. 'We slept right
through till nine, if I remember rightly.'

    The
wind grabbed hold of an enormous parasol at one end of the veranda. It fell
beside the fence, and Gonzales only just managed to avoid being hit by the
pole.

    'Good
God!' Anette Persson leapt to her feet, but seemed happy about the
interruption. 'It's getting a bit cold to sit out here anyway.'

    She
ushered the two officers into the living room. A distinct aroma of alcohol
reached Frisk's nostrils as she stood next to Anette Persson. The woman's hands
flew up to her face, as if she had only just realised that she had been just a
few metres from the murderer.

    'I
had to… It's all so dreadful.' She burst into tears. 'How are we going to be
able to live out here now, in the middle of the forest, after something like
this has happened? I'll never be able to…'

    It
was no longer possible to make out what she was saying. Frisk placed a hand on
her back.

    'I
realise it must have been a shock for you, but I think we can tell you that the
murder was carried out in a way that leads us to believe that the murderer knew
Bart and wanted him dead. This has nothing whatsoever to do with you, fru
Persson. You have nothing to fear.'

    'You
said dark, fru Persson,' said Gonzales, ignoring the look Frisk gave him. 'You
said it was dark. Was the car dark in colour?'

    Anette
Persson looked up through her tears and appeared to consider the question.

    'I
think so,' she said eventually. 'As I said, it was dark outside, but I think I
would have noticed if it had been white or a pale colour. I think it was black
or maybe dark blue.'

    'And
I don't suppose there's any chance you noticed what make it was?'

    She
looked surprised. 'Well yes, of course. We used to have one, before we bought
the Berlingo. It was a Jeep.
A Grand Cherokee.
It
looked new.'

    Before
they left the area and headed for more civilised parts, they called at the
Transtroms' place at the top of the
hill,
even though
they knew Inspector Björkman had already spoken to them. There was no harm
checking whether the neighbours had remembered anything new. No one was home,
however.

    Gonzales
took a stroll around the outside, putting his foot through the layer of ice on
a puddle and soaking his trainers once again, just as they were beginning to
dry out. There were no lights to be seen around them; the other buildings
consisted of summer cottages closed up for the winter, their windows covered in
frost.

    Frisk
pushed back her seat and put her feet up on the dashboard while Gonzales drove
- calmly and carefully - towards Borås and the shop belonging to the Berntssons.
This job was already dangerous enough, without needing to risk killing yourself
on the road.
We've got plenty of time,
he thought as Detective Inspector
Frisk pretended to snore beside him.

    Maja
Berntsson hung the CLOSED sign on the door just as her husband arrived.

    Sigvard
Berntsson's face and chest were covered by a huge reddish curly beard and he
had to be twice as old as his wife. Gonzales thought he looked a little shaken,
but that didn't necessarily mean a thing and his appearance didn't prevent him
from offering a firm handshake. People were often scared when they talked to
the police. Gonzales knew that better than most; a whole load of the friends
he'd known as a teenager had chosen lives of crime.

    Unfortunately,
the Berntssons didn't think they had anything to contribute to the
investigation, since their bedroom faced the forest and not Bart's place. They
had been asleep on the night in question, with a couple of brief interruptions.

    'I
got up to go to the loo just after midnight,' said Maja after thinking for a
few moments. 'I remember the time, because I turned off the video - I'd
recorded a film during the evening. Then I woke up first thing in the morning
as well. Olof Bart was definitely alive then, because he was making so much
noise.'

    Her
husband frowned.

    'You
never mentioned that.'

    She
gave him an indulgent look. 'Yes, I did. I even woke you up with all my
complaining, but you just turned over and went back to sleep.'

    She
turned to Gonzales.

    'It
wasn't unusual for Olof to be up early, revving the engines of those cars he
fixed. It could be really annoying sometimes, particularly at the weekend when
all you want is a bit of peace and quiet.'

    'What
time was this?'

    'Er…
I don't really know. I'd guess five or six o'clock? He was nearly always up at
first light.'

    Frisk
looked meaningfully at Gonzales.

    'Is
there anything else you can tell us, Maja? Did you hear any voices? Think
carefully.'

    She
looked uncertainly at Frisk and shook her head.

    'No…
I was really half-asleep.'

    Frisk
placed her card on the table. 'OK. It's important that you get in touch with me
if you remember anything else.
Anything at all.
That
applies to both of you.'

    Sigvard
Berntsson still seemed confused.

    'There
was just one thing,' he said thoughtfully as they were about to get up. 'I was
talking to Olof on Tuesday. It was an ordinary conversation, although we didn't
talk all that often - he was a bit of a lone wolf. I didn't think anything of
it at the time, but in the light of what's happened…'

    'What
did you talk about?' Frisk helped him out.

    He
linked his hands together on the table. 'Olof came to see me while I was out
chopping wood. He seemed keen to chat for once, as if he wanted something. He
started talking about different kinds of burglar alarm and what you should and
shouldn't get. I think I more or less dismissed the whole idea. To be honest,
I'm not keen on that kind of false security - you know what I mean, capitalists
making a profit out of people's fears. Anyway, he finished up by saying that we
ought to keep an eye out for each other. I thought he meant
burglaries,
that
sort of thing, but… I suppose he might have meant something else.'

    'You
mean he seemed afraid of something in particular?'

    'Yes,
as if he had an idea of what was going to
happen.
As if he knew about the murderer.'

    Analysis
showed that the bullet in Olof Bart's head came from the same gun that had
killed Lars Waltz. It therefore seemed reasonable to conclude that the
perpetrator was one and the same.

    Björkman
and Frisk took their places in the conference room at police headquarters in
Gothenburg for an initial joint briefing.

    At
first Tell had been surprised that Björkman hadn't sent someone from the lower
ranks who had been involved in the investigation. By coming himself, he became
yet another inspector in the new constellation. Tell wondered distractedly
whether Björkman's mania for tidiness had now developed into a powerful need to
remain in control, and in that case how effective he was as a team leader. On
the other hand, the members of Björkman's team he had met appeared to think
highly of their boss. And he had to admit that his own prejudice about
small-town police officers and their little-brother complex had so far proved
unfounded.
If you could call Borås a small town.

    Ostergren
had asked for a meeting with both detective inspectors to find out how they
were planning to proceed. Two murder enquiries had suddenly taken a completely
new turn, and new methods were required. Perhaps the top brass had a strategic
plan.