The Glass Devil (6 page)

In the far left of the picture, Sten Schyttelius was raising a generously filled schnapps glass. Bengt Måårdh was seated in the middle, half turned away from the rector. He had one of his arms around Cantor Eva Möller’s shoulders and was leaning over to whisper something in her ear. She looked enchanting in a red dress with embroidery around its square neckline, and she was smiling at what he said. It appeared to Irene that the assistant rector was taking the opportunity to peer down the neck of Eva’s dress.

Louise Måårdh saw that Irene had examined the photo of her husband and the lovely cantor, but she didn’t say anything. She held out her hand to take the pictures Irene had gathered together. “Thank you,” she said.

“Do you know if anyone in the Schyttelius family felt threatened?” Irene asked.

Louise shook her reddish-brown hair. “No. I never heard anything like that.”

“Did Sten Schyttelius ever talk about Satanists?”

“Yes. After the summer chapel burned down; he was terribly upset.”

“Did he speak about Satanists during the last couple of months?”

“No, not that I remember. It was mostly in the months following the fire.”

“Did you hear that he was trying to trace the Satanists via the Internet?”

“Internet? No, that’s news to me,” Louise said with sincere surprise in her voice.

“Then I don’t have any more questions at the moment. Would you be so kind as to ask your husband to come in?”

BENGT MÅÅRDH’S face bore a troubled expression as he seated himself in the visitor’s chair. He folded his hands and rested his elbows on the armrests while his serious gaze focused on Irene. Again she felt that a priest was here to console her, as if she was the one who needed comforting. The feeling was absurd, yet it was there. Maybe it was evoked by his sympathetic brown eyes behind frameless glasses.

Then it struck her that she was simply being exposed to a basic tool of his profession. This was the way Bengt Måårdh had learned to act in times of grief: He displayed compassion. It probably worked with a person who actually needed it, not least with women. And who doesn’t need compassion nowadays? Our need for comfort is immeasurable.

She was pulled from her thoughts when the pastor said, in a low voice, “I am prepared to answer your questions. If there’s anything I can do to catch the person who murdered Sten and Elsa and Jacob, then I want to do everything within my power to help.” He leaned against the backrest of the chair with his hands still folded.

“Have you ever heard any of the three murder victims say that he or she felt threatened?” Irene began.

“No. Never. Who would want to threaten them? The world’s nicest people and—”

“Did Sten Schyttelius ever speak with you about Satanists?” Irene interrupted.

“He spoke about them a lot directly after the fire. Dear Sten was actually pretty hot-tempered, but he never held a grudge. He was very angry with the Satanists and their followers. You’ll have to forgive me, but he didn’t think that the police cared enough. Sometimes it sounded like he was thinking about going after them himself.” He smiled almost imperceptibly.

“Did he speak about chasing Satanists in the last few months?” Irene asked.

His surprise was obvious. “No. Not at all! I was referring to last summer and fall, right after the fire. During the last six months, I haven’t heard a word about Satanists. Sten had other projects that took up most of his time. He was very involved in Sweden’s Ecumenical Children’s Villages. That project was close to his heart, and he was thinking about working even more closely with it after retirement.”

“I heard something about Jacob also being involved in this work.”

“Yes. He became interested through Sten. They took a trip together last fall. Sten wasn’t as young as he used to be, so it was probably a good thing that he had Jacob with him.”

“Could Jacob take off from work right in the middle of the semester?”

For the first time, the pastor was uncertain. “He was apparently free during the fall. I don’t know if he was on sick leave. As you probably already know, he got divorced last summer.”

This was news to Irene, but she satisfied herself with nodding as if he had confirmed her information.

“While he was married, Jacob and his ex-wife lived in Norrland somewhere. She’s also a teacher.”

“Did they have any children?”

“No. They were only married a few years.”

“Did he move down here because of the divorce?”

“Yes. He didn’t have a support system up there. His family was here, of course.”

“Had he already moved to the summer cottage at Norssjön by the fall?”

“Yes. Jacob has always been considerate and probably didn’t want to burden his parents, especially because of Elsa and her condition. I don’t know if anyone has told you that Elsa suffered from depression, but unfortunately that was the case.”

“I’m aware of it. What was Elsa Schyttelius like as a person?”

At first, Bengt looked as though he hadn’t understood the question but after a while he frowned in contemplation.

“Well . . . she was nice, but she didn’t draw much attention to herself. Sten was a real social butterfly and liked parties. Elsa loathed that sort of thing. She showed up at parties sometimes, but always sat quietly.”

“She never spoke?”

“She spoke, of course, but she was taciturn.”

Suddenly he bent forward toward Irene again and looked her straight in the eye. Both his voice and his eyes revealed sincere concern when he asked, “Have you gotten hold of Rebecka?”

“Yes. An English police officer and a pastor from the Swedish Seaman’s Church informed her of what happened. It took some time to find her because she had recently moved.”

“That’s right. Sten actually said that she was going to move, last fall.”

“Do you remember if he said anything else?”

“He said that things were going very well for the company. Rebecka works for a computer firm which undertakes assignments for different clients. I’m not very knowledgeable about computers, but I understood that much. Then he said that her new apartment was big, considering that it was located in central London. But she was happy about having rented it.”

“It must have been expensive?”

“Probably. But money doesn’t seem to be a problem in the IT business. It’s good to know that she’s doing so well.”

“You’ve known her for ten years. Did you expect that she would have such success?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t have. She did well in school but kept to herself for the most part. She wasn’t bad-looking, but she was . . . serious. Distant. During high school, she was probably pretty lonely; but when she moved to Linköping—or was it Lidköping—I always mix them up . . . in any case, when she moved away from home and started working with computers, it was as if she loosened up. I think she blossomed. We only saw each other for any length of time at a Christmas Breakfast but I’ve noticed that she changed during the last years.”

“In what way did she change?”

“She seemed happier and more talkative. You could also see how her appearance altered . . . clothes and that sort of thing. She spoke about her friends, and Elsa confided to Louise that she had a boyfriend. But that apparently ended before she moved to London. Maybe that’s why she moved? I know that Sten and Elsa never got a chance to meet him.”

“How do you know that?”

Bengt arched his eyebrows in surprise.

“Naturally, I asked Elsa. She said that neither of them had met the boyfriend. And then she said that it was over. A few months later, Rebecka moved to London. But there was a rumor that she had a new guy in London. According to Louise, he was here at Kullahult over the summer last year, but I don’t know if it’s true.”

“Did Louise meet him?”

“No. This was just something she heard. It’s best if you ask her yourself.”

Irene nodded and was about to ask her next question when a new thought suddenly struck her. “Do you know if Rebecka had helped her father to trace the Satanists over the Internet?” she asked.

Bengt Måårdh looked at Irene in surprise. “I really don’t know! Certainly Sten had a lot of ideas about how he was going to find those responsible, but I’ve never heard him talk about tracking them via the Internet.”

But others have, thought Irene. If Rebecka was involved in her father’s investigation in some way, maybe she would have some information to give them. Was she threatened as well? That couldn’t be ruled out. Thankfully, the English police had promised to keep an eye on her.

Irene decided to change the subject. “Who will become rector now?” she asked.

“The position has been open for a few weeks since he was about to retire anyway, and both Urban Berg and I have applied for it. Of course, there are other applicants, but it will probably be one of us. We have the age and experience needed. But Urban has some problems that may count against him.”

Irene asked the obvious question: “What problems?”

“Unfortunately, he has a drinking problem. He has been arrested for drunken driving twice. It is, of course, very tragic. Urban became a widower a few years ago, and after that his drinking became worse.”

Bengt Måårdh looked sympathetic when he spoke about his colleague’s problems, but Irene thought she heard an undertone of satisfaction. If Urban had this blot on his resumé, naturally Bengt’s chances of getting the position increased. And Louise would become the rector’s wife. Something told Irene this was better than being the wife of the assistant rector.

“Jonas Burman hasn’t applied for the position?” Irene said, mainly to have something to ask about.

Bengt smiled broadly, and Irene could see that he had a very pleasant smile. “Oh, Jonas is far too young to apply for a rector’s position. And—” He stopped himself for a second before following through with what he had been about to say. “There has been some speculation . . . Jonas is thirty-one, but there doesn’t seem to have ever been a woman in his life. Someone murmured that he may be homosexual, but I don’t think so. Honestly, I think he’s just prudish and moralistic. Moreover, he’s a member of the synod.”

For a second, Irene wondered if the synod might have something to do with Satanism, but she realized that it was hardly possible. “What is the synod?” she asked, feeling foolish.

Bengt Måårdh didn’t seem surprised at her lack of knowledge, and said, with a meaningful smile, “It’s a group of pastors within the Swedish Church who see themselves as more orthodox than the rest of us. They’re best known for their categorical opposition to female pastors.”

“Are you opposed to female pastors?”

“No.”

“Was Sten Schyttelius?”

“No . . . not directly. But he preferred male colleagues. He had an old-fashioned view toward women in the church.”

“So he wasn’t a member of the synod?”

“No.”

“How would Sten Schyttelius have reacted if he had learned that Jonas Burman really was homosexual?”

Again Bengt contemplated the question before answering. “He wouldn’t have approved of it. He was very fixed in his opinion of homosexuality: It was completely unacceptable. We had a discussion last year. There were two women who wanted to be blessed in Kullahult’s church after they had entered into a domestic partnership, but it wasn’t even a possibility for Sten. He declared very clearly that all forms of homosexuality are a crime against God. The Lord made man and woman in order to be of joy to one another and to take care of their children.”

Irene could hear in the priest’s voice that he shared his late rector’s opinion. She decided to leave the topic for the time being. “I’ve heard that Sten and Jacob Schyttelius were hunters. Are you also interested in hunting?”

“No.”

“Do any of the other pastors hunt?”

“Not that I know of. I’m almost certain that none of the others do.”

Irene couldn’t come up with any more questions and thanked Bengt Måårdh for his assistance. He rose and took her hand in a firm grip. His handshake felt dry and firm. He wished her luck with the investigation, adding that he sincerely hoped that the repulsive murderer would be caught.

THE THREE officers found a pizzeria right across from Konsum. The inspectors had their choice of the four tables inside, since most of the other customers appeared to want to take their pizzas out. They chose a table as far away from the counter as they could get, not because they were afraid the pizza maker would be able to overhear their conversation but so that they would be able to have one at all. The employees had a flower-covered boom box behind the counter which was pounding out Turkish pop songs at the highest volume.

They were hungry and ate their pizzas in utter silence. The volume of customers had slowed after lunchtime, but the tape player’s volume remained unchanged.

Irene leaned forward over the small table, making sure she didn’t put her elbows in the leftovers. Tommy and Fredrik also leaned forward to hear what she had to say.

“The picture I’ve gotten of the victims is pretty clear. Sten Schyttelius was a happy, extroverted, sociable person. Like his son, he was interested in hunting. He took care of the family during Elsa Schyttelius’s periods of depression. He was authoritarian and old-fashioned as a boss and had a biased view of women. But since he was going to retire before the summer, he got away with it. By the way, Bengt Måårdh said that he and Urban Berg had applied for Sten’s position. And Bengt ‘mentioned’ that Urban has a drinking problem; he has been arrested for drunk driving twice.”

Tommy smiled broadly. “What petty gossipers! Urban Berg told me that Bengt Måårdh is a notorious womanizer. According to Urban, he can’t leave any woman alone.”

“And according to Måårdh,” Irene continued, “there are suspicions that Jonas Burman is gay. Sten Schyttelius would never have tolerated that, because he was against allowing homosexuals into the church community. Oh, and Jonas Burman is a member of the synod.”

“Don’t you mean the sewing circle?” Fredrik laughed.

“It’s obvious that you don’t know what it is either. I asked. According to Bengt Måårdh, it’s an association of pastors who are more religious than others. ‘Orthodox,’ I think he said. Mainly, they’re against women pastors.”