Still Waters (Sandhamn Murders Book 1) (28 page)

C
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69

Thomas held the letter in his hand, suddenly feeling that they had found the key to the mystery. He began to read.

Dear Krister, You have never known who your father was,
the letter began. It was two handwritten pages. It was dated a year ago. There was no stamp on the envelope, so presumably it had been handed directly to Krister rather than being mailed.

Thomas slowly read through the text. When he had finished he sat in silence for a little while. Then he turned to Carina, who was watching him attentively.

“So now we know what linked Krister Berggren to Sandhamn.”

She nodded. “And who his father was.”

Thomas held up the letter. “He had every reason to go over to the island.”

“Yes, especially if he found out after his mother’s death,” Carina said. “She died at the end of February, and he disappeared at the end of March. He must have decided to make contact soon after the funeral.”

Thomas contemplated a picture of Krister; he was gazing beyond the camera, as if waiting for something or someone that never appeared. “So he suddenly learned who his father was, and that he had more living relatives, not just Kicki.”

Carina pushed her hair back. She was looking over a photograph of Cecilia Berggren, who was holding her son in her arms and looking straight down the lens with a serious expression. “It must have been such a shock,” she said. “After all these years. I wonder why his mother never told him.”

“Perhaps she was ashamed?”

“Or she wanted to protect the father.”

“Or Krister. We don’t know how the father reacted. He might not have wanted anything to do with her when she got pregnant. After all, her family had broken off all contact with her; the only one who supported her was her brother, Kicki’s father.”

Thomas tried to remember what Kicki had told him when they met at the police station. Cecilia had brought up her son without any help from her parents. It had been a tough struggle to survive, and she’d had to be careful with money. Cecilia had dropped out of school and started working at Systemet as soon as possible after Krister’s birth.

“He must have read the letter and decided to go to Sandhamn to find his family,” Thomas said.

“Who perhaps didn’t even know he existed.”

“True. It could be that they didn’t know anything about him.”

“Apart from the father.”

“But something happened on the way over, or when he arrived,” Thomas said.

“Something that resulted in his death.”

“And subsequently the death of his cousin.”

“If the deaths are related.”

“Why wouldn’t they be related?”

“Well, Krister Berggren’s death could still have been an accidental drowning. He might have fallen overboard. What if he was just unlucky on the boat to Sandhamn?”

“And Kicki?”

“I don’t know. I suppose it’s not likely to be a coincidence that she was murdered so soon after Krister’s death.”

“Besides which, Jonny Almhult is dead and Philip Fahlén is in the hospital; we don’t have a reasonable explanation for either of those events,” Thomas said. A similar conversation he had recently had with Margit suddenly came to mind. He studied the letter thoughtfully. “This definitely raises a number of fresh questions. But I still find it strange that . . .” He fell silent, staring at the letter.

“What?”

“That there wasn’t the slightest hint. Not the least suggestion of a family connection. After everything that’s happened.”

“That is odd,” Carina said. “But there’s no guarantee that anyone even knew about him. And if they did, they were probably embarrassed. It would have been a real scandal in those days.”

“I’m sure it was. An illegitimate child was nothing to boast about in the fifties,” Thomas said.

“Are you going over there this evening?”

“I’ll see.” He suppressed a yawn. “It doesn’t really matter. Nobody’s about to run off. I’m not even sure if it would be possible tonight.” He got to his feet with a sigh. “I’m worn out. I think I’ll probably go over to Harö; the conversation on Sandhamn can wait until tomorrow morning.”

He looked at the letter one last time before carefully folding it up and slipping it back into the envelope.

C
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70

A whole evening all to herself. The need to be alone was physical. Her body wanted time. Nora longed to think through the situation calmly. Just to be left in peace, without having to pretend everything was OK or explain anything to anyone. After the conversation the previous evening, she had to gather her thoughts. Decide what she really wanted, deep down.

Since Henrik was taking part in the twenty-four-hour race, he wouldn’t be back before midnight. That gave her plenty of time to think about what she was going to say to him.

The boys had asked if they could sleep over at their grandparents’ house.

They hadn’t needed to ask twice.

Nora had already taken their nighttime things across, and now she was alone. It was only eight thirty and still light outside.

Even if her mind was not at peace, she had decided to make sure her stomach was. She had bought a lovely chicken fillet, marinated it in lime and soy sauce, then grilled it in the oven. To go with it, she had made a couscous salad with avocado and a sauce of Turkish yogurt mixed with sweet chili. And to really spoil herself she had bought a bar of Belgian dark chocolate, her absolute favorite.

Of course, she was supposed to go easy on sweets because of her diabetes, but she had to indulge once in a while.

This was one of those times.

She would, however, take a little extra insulin before her meal, because she hadn’t injected herself at lunchtime when they were on Grönskär. The dose would be enough to compensate for the chocolate. And they did say that dark chocolate contained a substance that made you feel better, even if you were unhappy or depressed. Just what she needed.

Even an artificially induced sense of well-being was welcome this evening.

She decided to set the table nicely even though she was alone, so she put out a crystal glass. It was silly, really, but at the moment it felt right.

She made her final preparations and opened the fridge to get her insulin pen from its usual place on the top shelf.

She twisted a needle onto the top of the pen and carefully dialed her dose. She flicked the pen with her finger and then injected it into her stomach below the navel, into the layer of fat beneath the skin. She unscrewed the needle from the pen and left it on the dish rack. She would put it into its container in the bathroom later.

Nora placed the chicken dish on the table and put on the latest Norah Jones CD, her namesake apart from the
h
.

Just as she was about to sit down, she decided to call Henrik. Even if they weren’t getting along right now, she wanted to know how things were going and what time he thought he might be back.

She felt for her cell phone in the pocket of her shorts but couldn’t find it. She went back into the kitchen to look, but there was no sign of it there either. Strange. Nora frowned. She went upstairs to the bedroom to see if it was there.

She picked up the landline and called her cell phone. The call went through, but she couldn’t hear the cell phone ringing in the house.

Nora stopped at the top of the stairs.

When had she last had her phone? She tried to conjure up a mental picture of when she’d used it during the day. A bit like rewinding a video.

On Grönskär.

She’d called Thomas to tell him about the rat poison her mother had used. But what had she done with the phone after that? She must have put it down somewhere. Surely she couldn’t have dropped the phone on Grönskär? She’d been wearing a pair of shorts with shallow pockets. Nora sighed. How stupid.

It was almost nine o’clock. If she hurried she could take the launch and make it over to Grönskär while it was still light. She’d be back in half an hour.

She looked longingly at her delicious dinner, all laid out on the table.

The cell phone was much more important. Not the phone itself, but all the stored numbers. Having to program two hundred numbers into a new phone felt like an insurmountable task.

Quickly she pulled on her life jacket and grabbed a flashlight. She took the keys of the boat out of the little blue-painted cupboard just inside the door.

The curator kept a spare key under a stone by the lighthouse; they’d talked about it during the trip when she’d asked what would happen if someone lost the key to the lighthouse.

She walked quickly down to the jetty. Signe was standing by the boathouses with her hands in her pockets, gazing at the sea. She looked unusually sad, with dark shadows under her eyes.

“Where are you off to at this time of night?” she asked as Nora drew closer.

“I need to go over to Grönskär. I think I dropped my phone when we were there today. So careless. The boys are at Mom and Dad’s, so I thought I’d just pop over and look for it.”

“I could come with you,” said Signe.

Nora smiled. “That’s kind of you. But there’s no need. I’ll be fine—it won’t take long. I’ll be back before dark.”

“It’s no trouble. I’m not doing anything anyway. Wait a minute, I’ll just get my life jacket.” She placed a hand on Nora’s shoulder. “I really don’t think you should go out on your own, after the state you were in last night.”

“Actually, some company would be really nice,” said Nora. She climbed down onto the launch, inserted the ignition key, and loosened the ropes. She checked the gas to make sure there was enough. She had no desire to run out in the middle of the sea.

Signe came back with her life jacket, climbed into the launch, and pushed off from the jetty with some force. With a practiced hand, Nora steered the boat toward Grönskär.

C
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71

As they passed the Sandhamn Sound, Nora glanced back over her shoulder. Behind her the lights of Sandhamn were disappearing in the wake of the launch. The familiar houses became small dots, quickly vanishing in the distance. She wondered if she should have called to let her parents know she was going to Grönskär. They might get worried if they discovered the house was empty. Then again, it was only a short trip there and back. It wouldn’t take long.

The sound of the engine made it difficult to carry on a conversation, so she concentrated on steering the boat as it sliced through the calm, shining water. They had soon passed Telegrafholmen and rounded Björkö on the starboard side. After only ten minutes they could see the familiar outline of Grönskär up ahead.

There was a fresh smell of the sea and seaweed. The odd yacht, which hadn’t yet found a harbor for the night, was just visible in the distance. To the south, Svängen and Revengegrundet would soon start to flash.

They were drawing close to Grönskär, and Nora decided to moor at the quay below the lighthouse rather than in the shallow harbor for small boats. Just as well to be on the safe side. She had no desire to try to maneuver the boat free in the twilight.

When they were almost at the quay, Nora cut her speed down. The swell carried the boat the last few yards.

The quay, which consisted of a rectangular block of concrete protruding from the rocks, had two iron rings attached to each side. Nora tied the boat with two sturdy knots—rolling hitches, as her grandfather had taught her when she was little. They always had spare ropes in the boat in case they needed to tie up somewhere.

She pushed back the hair that the wind had torn free of her ponytail and turned to Signe. “You can wait here if you like. I’ll just run up and have a look.”

Signe shook her head. “Out of the question. I’m coming with you. You’re not going up that dark tower on your own at this time of night.”

Nora smiled. She was really glad Signe had come with her so she didn’t have to be on her own on Grönskär. “OK. Let’s go.”

“How are you going to get in?”

“I know where the spare key is. But I think I dropped the phone outside. I’ll just have to search around. Seek and ye shall find, right?”

The flat rock above the quay was slippery with the evening dew. The damp moss had spread over the rocks like a grayish-green carpet. Nora was careful where she stepped. She could easily slip, and a sprained ankle wasn’t a particularly attractive prospect.

As she walked, she thought about the old fairy tale: Rapunzel, the fair maiden with the long hair who was imprisoned in a tower. She was saved by a prince when she let down her hair so he could climb up and free her. A shudder went through Nora’s body. Grönskär lighthouse wasn’t a place where she’d want to get trapped, however long her hair might be.

Nora and Signe made their way up toward the lighthouse. There was no indication that Signe was almost eighty. She was agile and wiry and walked easily, despite the uneven ground. As always in the outer archipelago, the vegetation was sparse: low, windblown pine trees and the odd birch.

Nora tried hard to remember how she had moved around the lighthouse while talking on the phone. She had stopped just outside the entrance when she called Thomas. As was her usual habit, she had wandered back and forth during the conversation. The phone ought to be somewhere near the lighthouse.

She groped around in the bushes, but it was difficult to see in the gathering darkness. The flashlight wasn’t much help. She walked between the lighthouse and the little hut housing the museum one more time just to check but found nothing.

Maybe she had dropped it inside, after all.

She had gone up there with Adam one last time, just before they left. They had been in a hurry, so perhaps the phone had fallen out of her pocket on the way down.

She bent down and groped for the spare key, which was indeed hidden beneath the flat stone the curator had mentioned. She undid the padlock and opened the black-barred gate.

“Can you manage all these steps again?” she asked Signe.

“I’m not completely past it yet. Come on,” said Signe.

They walked slowly up the stairs and stopped on each landing to search. Nora moved the beam of the flashlight across the floor. No cell phone on either the first or the second landing. She could have done with a second cell phone to call her own number and follow the sound. But she hadn’t thought of that when she’d left home.

Off the third landing was the blind passageway. Nora tried to remember whether she had stopped there. They had definitely taken a wrong turn their first time up, but not the last time. To be on the safe side, she had a good look with the flashlight anyway.

They carried on up the last stone staircase to the top landing, which was no more than a small circle, barely two yards across. It was from there that the narrow white-painted wrought-iron staircase led up to the lantern room. Next to the staircase was the green door leading out onto the walkway.

Nora turned to Signe. “Wait here. I’ll just climb up and have a look. I don’t want you to break your leg on top of everything else, just because you were kind enough to come with me.”

The view from the lantern room was incomparable. Despite the fact that she had already admired it earlier in the day, she just couldn’t tear herself away. It was like standing on a cloud and gazing out over the sea. It had been amazingly beautiful during the day, but it was even more enchanting in the twilight. The rays of the setting sun painted the whole of the archipelago in shades of pink and yellow, and on the horizon the sky melted into the dark green sea.

For a second or two she forgot her problems with Henrik. The beauty spread out before her gave her fresh courage.

It was good to be alive, after all.

Down below she could see the old lighthouse keeper’s house, which was now the home of the curator. Beside it lay several older homes owned by the Archipelago Foundation. They were silent and dark; perhaps people had been tempted by the Friday night activities on Sandhamn.

“Have you found anything?” Signe’s voice echoed up into the lantern room.

Nora looked around. When the lighthouse on Grönskär was decommissioned in 1961, they had kept the lamp with its prisms intact in the center. Above the prisms was a lens, carefully wrapped to protect it. The lamp flashed with its faint green light.

“No, nothing,” Nora shouted back. “Not a thing.”

The sun had almost disappeared beyond Harö, and the light had dimmed even more. She moved slowly, looking for the metallic gleam of the cell phone.

“Hang on. I’ll pass you the flashlight,” shouted Signe. She passed it up through the narrow opening. She could only just reach.

Nora swept the beam of light around the lantern room. Once to the right, once to the left. She almost felt like an old lighthouse keeper. She swung the beam around once more. Then she gave up. There was no cell phone in here. She started to climb back down. “I think we’re going to have to give up. It could be anywhere. I’ll have to come back tomorrow and look for it in the daylight. That’s all there is to it.” She cursed her own carelessness.

When she got down, she stopped in front of the door to the walkway. “It’s so beautiful here. You could almost believe that God lives out there, in the space between the sea and the horizon.” She turned to Signe again. “Don’t the fishing rights for these waters belong to the Brand family?”

Signe nodded. “Yes, almost everything you can see out there is ours. I often go fishing, as you know. Have to put food on the table,” she added with a wry smile. She shook her head as she leaned against the handrail where the steps began. “But there are an awful lot of people fishing illegally these days. There are plenty who don’t pay any heed to fishing rights.”

Nora looked at her in surprise. “I’m sorry to hear that. But do you think they’re from Sandhamn?”

“I know exactly who they are. And which families.” Signe tossed her head. “After all these years, you can be sure I know exactly who likes to stick their fingers in somebody else’s pie.” She went on with resentment in her voice. “Take that poor Jonny Almhult, for example. I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, but both father and son in that family fished illegally in my waters without the slightest hint of embarrassment. I caught those two many times.”

“How do you know it was them? Did you ever catch them red-handed?”

“I don’t need to when they’re too idle to take out their needles when they’ve been repairing the nets. I’ve taken Georg Almhult’s fishing nets more than once.”

“Taken?”

“Didn’t you know? If someone fishes in your waters without permission, you have the right to claim their nets. That’s the way it’s been for many years.”

“Like a kind of fine?”

“Yes, exactly. You could definitely call it that.”

“That’s why you had nets in your boathouse that were marked with initials other than your own,” Nora said.

Signe frowned. “How did you know that?”

“I saw them when I went into your boathouse yesterday to borrow your perch nets.” She stood by the door to the platform, thinking. Then she looked at Signe. “Why haven’t you told Thomas that you had fishing nets belonging to the Almhults? I’m sure the police would have been interested. The net that Berggren man was tangled up in was marked with the initials
GA
.”

Signe opened her mouth as if to say something but closed it again.

In the distance they could hear the sound of the gulls screaming, but inside the lighthouse there was complete silence.

Suddenly, Nora understood. “It wasn’t the Almhults’ net that Krister Berggren was tangled up in when he died. It was yours,” she said, half to herself. “It was a net you’d taken when Jonny and his father were fishing illegally.”

Signe looked away. Then she nodded. “That’s exactly how it was.”

“But why haven’t you told Thomas? It’s important for the investigation. We must call him as soon as we get back and explain what happened.”

Signe didn’t reply.

Nora tried to tone down the seriousness in her words. “I mean, it was an accident. You had nothing to do with his death, right? Nobody can blame you for the fact that he got tangled in your net. You do understand that?”

Signe stood rigidly by the steps, not saying a word.

“Signe?” Nora said tentatively.

The question echoed around the lighthouse.