The Stonecutter (52 page)

‘Yes, he was. He’s been like a faithful watchdog.’ Erica smiled, but it didn’t reach all the way to her eyes. ‘I finally had to send him away, more or less. He left half an hour ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if he spends the night in our garden in a sleeping bag.’

Patrik laughed. ‘Yeah, that sounds plausible. At any rate, I owe him one. It feels good to know that you two weren’t alone here today.’

‘You know, we were just on our way upstairs to go to bed, Maja and I. But we can sit up a while longer if you’d like company.’

‘Don’t be offended, but I’d prefer to sit by myself for a while,’ Patrik replied. ‘I brought home some work to do, and then maybe I’ll watch TV to wind down for a while.’

‘Do whatever you feel like doing,’ said Erica. She got up and took Maja from Patrik after giving him a kiss on the mouth.

‘By the way, how was your day?’ he asked when she was halfway up the stairs.

‘Fine,’ said Erica, and Patrik could hear that there was new energy in her voice. ‘Today she didn’t need to sleep at my breast at all; she slept in the stroller. And now she doesn’t cry for more than twenty minutes. In fact, last time it was actually only five.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘It sounds like you’re starting to get control of the situation.’

‘Yeah, what a miracle that it actually works,’ she said with a laugh. Then she turned serious. ‘Although Maja can only sleep indoors now. I don’t dare put her outside ever again.’

‘I’m sorry I was so … dumb the other night,’ said Patrik hesitantly. He didn’t want to risk saying anything stupid again, so that’s why he fumbled for every word, even to apologize.

‘That’s okay,’ she said. ‘I’ve been a little oversensitive too. But I think the tide has turned now. The fright I got when she was missing had at least one beneficial effect. It made me realize how thankful I am for every minute with her.’

‘Yeah, I know what you mean,’ he said with a wave as she continued upstairs.

He shut off the sound on the TV, took out his cassette player, and pressed
REWIND
and then
PLAY.
He had already listened to the tape several times at the station. It was the few minutes that were recorded of Ernst’s so-called ‘interrogation’ of Morgan. Not much was said, but there was still something that bothered him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

After listening to the tape three times, he gave up, put away the cassette player, and went to the kitchen. He puttered about for a couple of minutes and emerged with a cup of hot chocolate and three cheese-and-caviar sandwiches on delicious Skogaholm bread. He turned up the sound on the TV and switched to ‘Crime Night’ on the Discovery Channel. Watching re-enactments of real crimes was perhaps an odd way for a cop to relax, but he always found it soothing. The crimes were always solved.

As he watched the program, a thought of a highly private nature began to take shape. A highly pleasurable and invigorating thought, which effectively repressed all images of crime and death. Patrik smiled as he sat there in the dark. He would have to go on a little shopping expedition.

The light was piercing and relentless in the cell. It felt like it was penetrating every part of him, every nook and cranny. Kaj tried to hide from it by burying his head in his arms, but he still felt the light prickling the back of his neck.

In only a few days his whole world had come crashing down. It might seem naïve in hindsight, but he had felt so safe, so untouchable. He had been part of a group that seemed above the ordinary world. They weren’t like the others. They were better, more enlightened than everyone else. What the world didn’t understand was that it was all about love. Nothing but love. Sex was only a small part of the whole. Sensuality was the closest word he could find to describe it. Young skin was so pure, so unsullied. Children’s minds were full of innocence, not befouled by the ugly thoughts of adults. What they were doing was helping these young people to develop so that they could reach their full potential. They helped them to understand what love was. Sex was the tool, but not the goal in itself. The goal was to achieve an accord, a union of souls. An association between young and old, so beautiful in its purity.

But no one would understand. They had talked about it so much in the chat rooms. How the stupidity of the others and the narrow-mindedness of their thinking made them unable to imagine even trying to understand what was so obvious to the members of the group. Instead, the others were so eager to label what they and the children were doing as dirty.

Against that background, he could understand why Sebastian did what he did. The boy had realized that nobody would understand, that he would be regarded with abhorrence and contempt. But what Kaj couldn’t understand was why Sebastian had leveled such accusations against him in his final farewell to the world. Kaj felt hurt. He had really believed that they’d reached a deep mutual understanding during their meetings, and that Sebastian’s soul, after the initial reluctance that always had to be overcome, had willingly sought to merge with Kaj’s soul. He had regarded the physical act as something subordinate. It was the feeling of literally drinking from the fountain of youth that had been the real reward. Had Sebastian really not understood that? Had he been pretending the whole time, or was it society’s norms that had made him disavow their affinity in his last letter? It pained Kaj to think that he would never know.

He had tried not to dwell on the other matter. Ever since they had brought him the news of Morgan’s death, he had tried to push away all thought of his son. His brain refused to accept the cruel truth, but the merciless light in his cell kept forcing images and thoughts upon him, including the spiteful idea that this was perhaps his punishment. But he hadn’t done anything wrong. Over the years he had come to love other boys, and they had loved him. That’s how it was, and that’s how it had to be. The alternative was too terrible for him even to imagine. It must have been love.

He knew that he had never been much of a father to Morgan. It had been so difficult. Even in the beginning his son had been hard to love, and he had often admired Monica because she was able to show him affection, that intractable, awkward child of theirs. Another thought occurred to him. Maybe they were going to try to make a case that he’d touched Morgan. The very idea made him furious. Morgan was his son, after all, his own flesh and blood. He knew that was what they’d say. But it was only proof of how restricted and narrow-minded they were. It wasn’t the same thing at all. The love between father and son was different from the love between him and the others. It was on a completely different level.

And yet he had loved Morgan. He knew that Monica didn’t believe it, but it was true. He simply hadn’t known how to reach out to the boy. All his attempts had been rejected, and he sometimes wondered if Monica in some subtle way might have been thwarting his attempts to reach his son. She had wanted him all to herself. Wanted to be the only parent he turned to. Kaj was effectively shut out, and even though she rebuked him and accused him of not engaging with his son, he knew that secretly that was precisely the way she wanted it. And now it was too late to change anything.

As the harsh light of the fluorescent tube flickered at him, he lay on his side on the floor and curled up in the fetal position.

So far, the medical examiners on TV had solved three cases in forty-five minutes. They made it seem easy, but Patrik was well aware that it wasn’t that simple. He hoped that Pedersen would get back to him tomorrow with news about the ashes on Liam’s shirt and Maja’s overalls.

As a new case was presented, Patrik felt sleep sneaking over him as he reclined on the sofa. But slowly the details of the case began to sink into his consciousness. He sat up and focused his attention on the TV screen. It was a case from the States from many years ago, but the circumstances seemed eerily familiar. He hurried to press the
RECORD
button on the VCR, hoping he wasn’t recording over the last episode of one of Erica’s reality shows, since in that case the family jewels would be at risk. It was in such situations that his sweetheart usually threatened to get out a rusty pair of scissors.

The M.E. in charge of the analyses spoke at great length and in detail. He showed diagrams and photos to explain the course of events as clearly as possible, and Patrik had no difficulty following along. An idea began to take shape in his mind, and he nervously checked again to see that the
RECORD
symbol was visible on the VCR’s display. He was going to have to watch the show a couple of more times.

After playing the segment three more times, he felt as certain as he could be. But he still needed to get a little help with his memory. Excited and well aware of the urgent nature of his quest, he went upstairs to find Erica in the bedroom. She had Maja next to her, so he assumed that their daughter was getting a little reward for sleeping so well in the stroller during the day.

‘Erica,’ he whispered and shook her shoulder gently. He was terrified of waking Maja, but he had to talk to Erica.

‘Unnh,’ was the only reply, and she made no attempt to move.

‘Erica, you have to wake up.’

This time he got a response. She gave a start, looked around in confusion, and said, ‘What? What is it? Is Maja awake? Is she crying? I’d better fetch her.’ Erica sat up and was about to get out of bed.

‘No, no,’ said Patrik, carefully pushing her back down on the bed. ‘Shh, Maja is sleeping like a log.’ He pointed at the little bundle that now squirmed a bit.

‘So why are you waking me up?’ said Erica morosely. ‘If you wake Maja, I’ll murder you.’

‘Because I have to ask you something. And it can’t wait.’

He quickly told her what he’d just learned and then asked the question weighing on his mind. After a moment of astonished silence she gave him his answer. He told her to go back to sleep, kissed her on the cheek, and hurried back downstairs. With a grim expression on his face, he punched in a number that he looked up in the phone book. Every minute counted.

32

Göteborg 1958

Something was wrong. She had let it go on for far too long. A year and a half had passed since Åke died, and Per-Erik had met her demands for action with excuses that kept getting vaguer and vaguer. Recently he had scarcely bothered to answer her at all, and the phone calls summoning her to the Hotel Eggers were now few and far between. She had begun to hate that place. The soft hotel sheets against her skin and the impersonal furniture now filled her with a nauseating revulsion. She wanted something else. She deserved better. She deserved to move into his big villa, to be the hostess at his parties, to be given respect, status, and mention in the society columns. Who did he think she was, anyway?

Agnes trembled with rage as she sat behind the steering wheel. Through the windshield she saw Per-Erik’s big white-brick villa, and behind the curtains she glimpsed a shadow moving through the rooms. His Volvo wasn’t parked on the drive. It was Tuesday morning, so he was no doubt at work, and Elisabeth was at home alone, probably devoting herself to being the excellent little housewife she was. Hemming tablecloths or polishing the silver or doing some other boring task that was beneath someone like Agnes. Surely Elisabeth had no idea that her life was about to be smashed to bits.

Agnes felt not the slightest hesitation. The thought didn’t even occur to her that Per-Erik’s ever more evasive manner might be due to a fading enthusiasm for her. No, it must be Elisabeth’s fault that he still hadn’t come to her as a free man. She pretended to be so helpless, so pitiful and dependent, just to bind him to her. But Agnes saw through that act, even if Per-Erik couldn’t. And if he wasn’t man enough to confront his wife, Agnes had no such scruples. She got out of the car, wrapped her fur coat tighter in the November chill, and walked quickly up the path to the front door.

Elisabeth opened it after only two rings and broke into a smile that made Agnes writhe with contempt. She longed to wipe that smile off her face.

‘Well, Agnes! How lovely of you to come and visit.’

Agnes saw that Elisabeth was serious, if slightly puzzled. Of course Agnes had been a guest in their home before, but only at dinner parties and celebrations. She had never before dropped by unannounced.

‘Come in,’ said Elisabeth. ‘You’ll have to excuse the mess. If I’d known you were coming, I would have picked up.’

Agnes stepped into the hall and looked round for the mess that Elisabeth mentioned. All she could see was that everything was in its proper place, which confirmed her image of Elisabeth as the ultimate, pathetic homemaker.

‘Have a seat and I’ll fetch some coffee,’ said Elisabeth politely, and before Agnes could stop her she was on her way to the kitchen.

Agnes hadn’t intended to have a coffee klatch with Per-Erik’s wife. She had planned to get what she’d come for and leave as quickly as possible, but she reluctantly hung up her fur coat and sat down on the sofa in the living room. No sooner had she sat down than Elisabeth appeared with a tray holding cups and thick slices of sponge cake. She set the tray on the dark, highly polished coffee table. The coffee must have been already brewed, because she hadn’t been gone more than a couple of minutes.

Elisabeth sat down in the easy chair next to the sofa.

‘Please have some sponge cake. I baked it today.’

Agnes looked with distaste at the cake saturated with butter and sugar and said, ‘I’ll just have coffee, thank you.’ She reached for one of the two porcelain cups on the tray. She sipped the coffee, which was strong and good.

‘Yes, I can see that you still watch your figure,’ Elisabeth said with a laugh, taking a slice of sponge cake. ‘I lost that battle after I had kids,’ she said, nodding towards a photo of their three children, who were now all grown. Agnes pondered for a moment how they would take the news of their parents’ divorce. But as their new stepmother, she was sure she’d be able to win them over to her side. In time they would probably see how much more she had to offer Per-Erik than Elisabeth did.