The Stonecutter (56 page)

‘Shall we continue upstairs?’ said Martin, nodding toward the staircase.

‘Yeah, you might as well. I don’t think we could have missed anything down here. We’ve gone over every millimeter.’

The whole team moved upstairs. Niclas had gone out for a walk with Albin, and they could work undisturbed.

‘I’ll start in Lilian’s bedroom,’ said Patrik.

He went through the doorway to the right of the stairs and looked around the room. Lilian’s bedroom was as well kept as the rest of the house, and the bed had been made up so tightly that it would have passed inspection at boot camp. Otherwise the room was very feminine. Stig couldn’t have felt much at home in there before he had to move to the guest room. The curtains and bedspread had flounces, and there were lace doilies on the nightstands and bureau. Small porcelain knick-knacks were everywhere, and the walls were covered with ceramic angels and pictures featuring angels. The color scheme was overridingly pink. It was so sugar-sweet, it almost made Patrik ill. He thought it resembled a room in a little girl’s dollhouse. It was exactly how a five-year-old would decorate her mother’s bedroom if given a free hand.

‘Yuck,’ said Martin as he stuck his head in the doorway. ‘Looks like a flamingo puked in here.’

‘Yeah, this room would never be featured in
House Beautiful.’

‘If it was, it would be the “before” picture. This place needs a make-over,’ said Martin. ‘Say, do you need some help in here? Looks like plenty of stuff to look through.’

‘Heck, yeah. I don’t want to be in here longer than I have to.’

They started at opposite ends of the room. Patrik sat down on the floor to go through the nightstand, and Martin worked on the wardrobes covering one wall.

They worked in silence. Martin’s back gave a crack when he reached for some shoeboxes on the top shelf of one wardrobe. He set them down carefully on the bed and then stopped for a moment to massage the small of his back. All that strain from moving was still bothering him, and he realized he should probably pay a visit to the chiropractor.

‘What have you got there?’ said Patrik, looking up from his spot on the floor.

‘Some shoeboxes.’ He removed the lid from the first box, carefully inspected the contents, and then set it aside and replaced the lid. ‘Just a bunch of old photos.’ He lifted the top of the next carton and lifted out a worn blue wooden box. The lid was stuck, so he had to use a little force to open it. When Patrik heard him gasp he looked up at once.

‘Bingo,’ said Martin.

Patrik smiled. ‘Bingo,’ he repeated triumphantly.

Charlotte had sauntered past the candy vending machine a few times but finally gave in. If she couldn’t allow herself a piece of chocolate at a moment like this, when could she?

She inserted some coins and pressed the button for a Snickers to drop down into the slot. ‘King Size,’ for good measure.

She considered gobbling down the whole thing before she went back, but knew she would just get sick if she ate it too fast. So she restrained herself and went back to the waiting room where Lilian was sitting. Quite right. Her mother’s eyes went straight to the candy bar in her hand, and she looked at Charlotte accusingly.

‘Do you know how many calories are in one of those? You need to lose weight, not put on more pounds. That thing will go straight to your butt. Now that you’ve finally managed to slim down …’

Charlotte sighed. She’d heard the same old song her whole life. Lilian had never permitted any sweets in the house, yet she was one of those women who always weighed the same, and she never had one ounce more than necessary on her body. Maybe that was precisely why sweets had been so tempting to Charlotte, who had eaten them in secret. She stole change out of her parents’ pockets and then sneaked off to the Central Kiosk to buy chocolate balls and assorted boiled sweets, which she voraciously devoured before she went home. By middle school she was already overweight, and Lilian had been furious. Sometimes she’d made Charlotte take off her clothes and stand in front of the full-length mirror so she could mercilessly pinch her spare tires.

‘Look at yourself. You look like a pig! You don’t really want to look like a pig, do you?’

Charlotte had hated her mother at those moments. But Lilian had only dared do that when Lennart wasn’t at home. He would never have allowed it. Pappa had been Charlotte’s salvation. She was grown up when he died, but without him she felt like a helpless little girl.

She regarded her mother sitting across from her. As usual, she was impeccably dressed, a sharp contrast to Charlotte who hadn’t brought a change of clothes from home. Lilian, on the other hand, had managed to pack a small overnight case and had changed her clothes and put on fresh makeup this morning.

Charlotte defiantly stuffed the last bit of the large chocolate bar in her mouth, ignoring Lilian’s disapproval. Imagine that she would bother to worry about Charlotte’s eating habits when Stig lay fighting for his life. Her mother never ceased to amaze her. But considering what Grandmother was like, maybe it wasn’t so odd.

‘When are we going to get to see Stig?’ said Lilian in frustration. ‘I don’t understand it. How can they keep the relatives out like this?’

‘I’m sure they have their reasons,’ said Charlotte, trying to sound reassuring, but for an instant she pictured the strange look on the doctor’s face. ‘We’d probably only be in the way.’

Lilian snorted and got up from her chair and began pacing back and forth.

Charlotte sighed. She was really trying to hold on to the sympathy she’d felt for her mother last night, but Lilian was making it damned hard. Charlotte took out her mobile to make sure it was turned on. It was a bit odd that Niclas hadn’t called. The display was dead, and she realized that the battery had run down without her noticing. Damn. She got up to call from the pay phone out in the corridor, but almost ran into two men. She was surprised to see that it was Patrik Hedström and his red-haired colleague who grimly peered over her shoulder into the waiting room.

‘Hello, what are you doing here?’ she asked, but then the thought struck her full force. ‘Did you find something? Something about Sara? You did, didn’t you? What is it? What …?’ She glanced eagerly and yet with a feeling of dread from Patrik to Martin, but got no reply.

Finally Patrik said, ‘At the moment, we have nothing concrete to tell you about Sara.’

‘But why …?’ she said in bewilderment without finishing her sentence.

Astonished, Charlotte stepped aside when they signaled that they would like to get by. As if in a fog she saw the other people in the waiting room tensely watching the drama as the police officers went over and took up position before Lilian, who was standing with her arms crossed and looking at them with raised eyebrows.

‘We would like you to come with us.’

‘I can’t do that, as I’m sure you understand,’ said Lilian belligerently. ‘My husband is fighting for his life and I can’t leave him.’ She stamped her foot to emphasize her point, but neither of the detectives seemed to take any notice.

‘Stig is going to pull through, and unfortunately you have no choice. I’m only going to ask politely one time,’ said Patrik.

Charlotte couldn’t believe her ears. The whole thing must be a gigantic misunderstanding. If only Niclas were here, she was sure he could calm everybody down and straighten it all out in no time. She herself felt at a loss what to do. The whole situation was so absurd.

‘And what is this regarding?’ Lilian snapped. ‘There must be some kind of misunderstanding.’

‘This morning we exhumed your husband Lennart’s body. The medical examiners are in the process of taking samples from his remains. Samples from Stig have already been analyzed. We have also conducted a search of your house today, and …’ Patrik glanced at Charlotte but then turned back to Lilian, ‘we made a few other discoveries. We can discuss them here if you like, in front of your daughter and everyone else here, or you can come with us to the station.’ His voice was devoid of any emotion, but his eyes contained a coldness that she didn’t think he was capable of.

Lilian’s eyes met Charlotte’s for a moment. Charlotte understood nothing Patrik was saying. A brief glimpse at Lilian’s eyes increased her confusion and made an icy chill spread down her spine. Something was definitely wrong.

‘But Pappa had Guillain-Barré syndrome. He died of a nerve disease,’ she said, both as explanation and inquiry, directed at Patrik.

He didn’t reply. Soon enough, Charlotte would find out more than she ever wanted to know.

Lilian turned her gaze away from her daughter and seemed to make a decision. Then she said calmly to Patrik, ‘All right. I’ll go with you.’

Stunned, Charlotte stood there, unsure of whether to stay or go with them. At last, her indecision settled the matter. She watched as the officers and her mother vanished down the corridor.

34

Hinseberg 1962

It was the only visit to Agnes she intended to make. She no longer thought of her as Mother. Only as Agnes.

Mary had just turned eighteen, and she had left her last foster family without looking back. She wouldn’t miss them, and the feeling was mutual.

Over the years, the letters had arrived frequently. Thick letters that smelled of Agnes. She hadn’t opened a single one. But she hadn’t thrown them out either. They lay in a trunk waiting to be read one day.

That was also the first thing Agnes asked her. ‘Darling, did you read my letters?’

Mary looked at Agnes without answering. She hadn’t seen her in four years, and she needed to learn her facial features again before she could say anything.

It surprised her how little the time in prison seemed to have affected Agnes. She couldn’t do anything about the clothing, so the elegant dresses and suits were only a memory, but otherwise she seemed to have taken care of herself and her appearance with the same ardor as before. Her hair was newly coiffed, now in a beehive that was the latest style. Her eyeliner was also fashionably thick, and her nails were just as long as Mary remembered them. Now Agnes drummed them impatiently as she waited for an answer.

It took another moment before Mary spoke. ‘No, I haven’t read them. And don’t call me “darling,”’ she said, then waited with curiosity for the reply. She was no longer afraid of the woman facing her. The monster inside her had gradually devoured that fear as the hatred had grown. With so much hatred, there was no room for fear.

Agnes couldn’t pass up such a splendid opportunity for a dramatic scene.

‘You didn’t read them?!’ she shrieked. ‘Here I sit locked up while you’re out running loose and having fun and God knows what else, and the only joy I have is to know that my dear daughter is reading the letters I spend so many hours writing. And I never got a single letter from you or a single telephone call in
four
years!’ Agnes was now sobbing loudly, but no tears came. They would wreck her perfect eyeliner.

‘Why did you do it?’ asked Mary quietly.

Agnes abruptly stopped crying. With great composure she took out a cigarette and carefully lit it. After taking a few deep drags, she replied with the same ghastly calm, ‘Because he betrayed me. He thought he could leave me.’

‘Couldn’t you simply have let him go?’ Mary leaned forward so she wouldn’t miss a word. She had gone over this topic so many times in her mind that now she didn’t want to risk missing even a syllable.

‘No man leaves me,’ Agnes said. ‘I did what I had to do.’ Then she shifted her cold glance to Mary and added, ‘You know all about that, don’t you?’

Mary averted her eyes. The monster inside her stirred restlessly. She said curtly, ‘I want you to sign over the house in Fjällbacka to me. I’m thinking of moving there.’

Agnes looked as though she wanted to protest, but Mary hastened to add, ‘If you want to have any contact with me in future, then you’ll do as I say. If you sign over the house to me, I promise I’ll read your letters and write to you.’

Agnes hesitated, so Mary quickly continued, ‘I’m the only person you have left now. That may not be much, but I’m the only one you have.’

For a few unbearably long seconds Agnes weighed the pros and cons, evaluating what would benefit her most, and finally decided.

‘All right, that’s the deal then. Not because I can understand why you’d want to live in that hole, but if you want to, then fine …’ She shrugged, and Mary felt joy rise inside her.

It was a plan that had developed over the past year. She would start over. Become a whole different person. Shake off the past that clung to her like a musty old blanket. Her application to change her name had already been submitted. Gaining access to the house in Fjällbacka was stage two, and she had already begun the work of changing her appearance. Not a single unnecessary calorie had passed her lips in a whole month, and the hour-long walk each morning had also helped. Everything would be different. Everything would be new.

The last thing she heard when she left Agnes sitting in the waiting room was her astonished exclamation, ‘Have you lost weight?’

Mary didn’t turn around to answer. She was on her way to becoming a new person.

By the next day the storm had subsided, and the autumn was showing its best side. The leaves that had survived the windstorm were red and yellow and fluttered softly in a light breeze. The sunshine gave no warmth, but it still raised the spirits and chased away the raw chill in the air—the kind that crept inside your clothes and made your body feel cold and damp.

Patrik sighed as he sat in the kitchen. Lilian was still refusing to talk, despite all the evidence they had against her. At least it was enough to remand her back into custody, and they still had time to charge her.

‘How’s it going?’ said Annika as she came in to refill her coffee cup.

‘Not much happening,’ said Patrik with a deep sigh. ‘She’s as hard as a rock. Doesn’t say a word.’

‘But do we need a confession if the evidence is sufficient?’

‘No, not really,’ said Patrik. ‘But what we’re lacking is a motive. With a little imagination I could come up with a number of plausible motives for killing one husband and attempting to kill the second. But Sara?’