The Stonecutter: A Novel (Pegasus Crime) Read online

  ‘Sure, put him on.’ He heard the click on the line, followed by the medical examiner’s voice.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Yes, I’m here. It’s Gösta Flygare.’

  ‘I heard that Patrik was out on a job. But you’re working on the investigation of the murder of the little girl too, aren’t you?’

  ‘Everyone at the station is, more or less.’

  ‘Good, then you can take down the information we just got in, but it’s important that everything be sent on to Hedström.’

  Gösta wondered for a second whether Pedersen had heard about Ernst’s fiasco, but then realized it was impossible. He probably just wanted to emphasize that the head of the investigation should get all the information. And Gösta had no intention of making the same mistake as Lundgren, that was for sure. Hedström was going to hear about everything, even the slightest clearing of his throat.

  ‘I’ll take notes, and you’ll fax me as usual, right?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Pedersen. ‘We’ve got the analysis of the ashes now. That is, the ashes the girl had in her stomach and lungs.’

  ‘I’m familiar with the details,’ said Gösta, who couldn’t keep a hint of irritation from sneaking into his reply. Did Pedersen think he was simply some bloody errand boy at the station, or what?

  If he heard Gösta’s annoyance, Pedersen ignored it and went on calmly. ‘Well, we’ve found out a few interesting things. First, the ashes aren’t exactly fresh. The contents, at least certain portions, might be characterized as …’ he paused, ‘rather old.’

  ‘Rather old?’ said Gösta, still peevish. ‘What exactly does “rather old” mean? Are we talking stone age, or the swinging sixties?’

  ‘Well, that’s the snag. According to SFL, it’s incredibly difficult to pin down. The best estimate I could get was that the ashes are somewhere between fifty and a hundred years old.’

  ‘Hundred-year-old ashes?’ said Gösta, astonished, and suddenly quite curious.

  ‘Yes, or maybe fifty. Or somewhere in between. But that wasn’t the only remarkable thing they found. There were also fine particles of stone in the ashes. Granite, to be precise.’

  ‘Granite? Where the hell are the ashes from then? It couldn’t have been a piece of granite that burned, could it?’

  ‘No, stone doesn’t burn, as we all know. The stone must have been in fine particles from the start. They’re still working on analyzing the material to be able to say something more definite. But …’

  Gösta could hear that something big was brewing. ‘Yes?’ he said.

  ‘What they can tell, at this point, is that it seems to be a mixture. They’ve found remnants of wood mixed in with …’ he paused but then went on, ‘organic matter.’

  ‘Organic matter? Are you saying these are ashes from a human body?’

  ‘Well, that’s what further analyses will show. It’s not yet possible to determine whether the remains are human or animal. And it’s not certain they’ll even be able to determine that, but SFL is going to try. And as I said, in any case it’s mixed with other substances: wood and granite.’

  ‘I’ll be damned,’ said Gösta. ‘So somebody saved these old ashes.’

  ‘Yes, or found them somewhere.’

  ‘That’s right, it could be that too.’

  ‘So this should give you something to think about,’ said Pedersen dryly. ‘Hopefully we’ll know more in a few days. Until then, this will have to do.’

  ‘Yes, it will,’ said Gösta, already imagining his colleague’s face when he told him what he’d found out. The question was how in the world the information could be used.

  He put down the receiver and went over to the fax machine. The granite particles, he thought, were the most likely to provide a lead.

  But the thought slipped away.

  Asta groaned as she straightened up. The old wooden floor had been laid when the house was built and could only be cleaned with soap and water. But with every year that passed, it got harder for her to kneel down and scrub. Although her old body would probably last for a while yet.

  She looked around the house. For forty years, she had lived here. She and Arne. Before that, he had lived here with his parents, who had remained living with the newly-weds. Suddenly both parents passed away within the space of a few months. She was ashamed for even thinking it, but those had been hard years. Arne’s father had been as gruff as a general, and his mother wasn’t much better. Arne had never discussed it with her, but she gathered from random comments that he’d been beaten a lot when he was little. Maybe that’s why he’d been so hard on Niclas. A boy who thinks he’s loved with the whip will probably dispense love with the whip when that day comes. Although in Arne’s case it had been a belt, of course. The big brown belt that hung on the inside of the pantry door and was used whenever their son had done something that didn’t suit his father. But who was she to question the way Arne had brought up their son? Certainly it had broken her heart to hear Niclas’s muffled screams of pain, and she had used a gentle hand to wipe away his tears when the ordeal was over, but Arne had always known best.

  Laboriously she climbed up on a kitchen chair and took down the curtains. She couldn’t see any dirt on them yet, but as Arne always said, by the time something looks dirty it should have been cleaned long ago. She stopped abruptly, with her hands raised above her head, just as she was about to lift off the curtain rod. Hadn’t she done the same thing on that horrible day? Yes, she believed she had. She had stood there changing the curtains when she heard raised voices coming from outside in the garden. Naturally she was used to hearing Arne’s angry voice, but what was unusual was that Niclas had also raised his voice. It was so inconceivable, and the possible consequences so dire, that she had jumped down from the chair and hurried out to the garden. They were standing facing each other, like two combatants. Their voices, which had already sounded loud from inside the house, now hurt her eardrums. Incapable of stopping, she had run up to Arne and grabbed his arm.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ She could still hear how desperate her voice had sounded. And as soon as she took hold of Arne’s arm, she knew it was the wrong thing to do. He fell silent and turned toward her with eyes that were completely empty of emotion. Then he raised his hand and slapped her hard. The silence that followed was ominous. They had stood utterly still, like a three-headed stone statue. Then she saw as if in slow motion how Niclas drew his arm back, clenched his fist, and aimed it at his father’s head. The sound of his fist slamming into Arne’s face had abruptly broken the eerie silence and set everything in motion again. In disbelief Arne put his hand up to his cheek and stared at his son. Then Asta saw Niclas’s arm draw back and fly at Arne again. After that it seemed it would never stop. Niclas moved like an automaton, punching him over and over. Arne took the blows without seeming to understand what was happening. Finally his legs gave out and he fell to his knees. Niclas was breathing hard. He looked down at his kneeling father, blood running out of his nose. Then he turned and ran.

  After that day, she was not allowed to mention Niclas’s name again. He had been seventeen years old.

  Asta climbed down carefully from the chair with the curtains in her arms. Lately she’d had so many disquieting thoughts, and it was probably no accident that the memories of that day were intruding just now. The girl’s death had stirred up so many feelings, so much that she’d tried to forget over the years. A realization of how much she’d lost because of Arne’s stubbornness had come sneaking up on her, awakening emotions that would only make life more difficult for her. But as soon as she went to visit her son at the clinic she’d begun to question much of what she’d taken for granted over the years. Maybe Arne didn’t know everything after all. Maybe Arne wasn’t the one who should decide how everything should be, even for her. Maybe she could start making her own decisions. The thoughts made her nervous, and she pushed them aside until later. For now, she had curtains to wash.

  Patrik knocked on the door wi
th an authoritative rap. He was already having to work to keep his expression neutral, as repugnance welled up inside. This was the lowest of the low. The most loathsome type of person he could imagine. The only consolation, and this was not something Patrik would ever say out loud, was that once this type of person ended up behind lock and key, he wouldn’t have it easy in prison. Pedophiles were at the bottom of the pecking order and were treated accordingly. And rightfully so.

  He heard footsteps approaching and took a step back. Martin stirred tensely beside him, and standing behind them were several colleagues from Uddevalla, including some who could provide invaluable expertise in these cases—computer experts.

  The door opened and Kaj’s thin form appeared. As always, he was formally dressed, and Patrik wondered if he even owned any casual clothes. Patrik himself always slipped on a pair of worn-out jogging trousers and a cozy sweatshirt the minute he got home.

  ‘What is it this time?’ Kaj stuck his head out of the door and frowned at the police cars parked in his driveway. ‘Is it really necessary for you to advertise your presence like this? The old lady next door is probably fainting with glee. If you have something to ask me, you could just pick up the phone, or send over one person instead of a whole troop!’

  Patrik studied him for a moment, wondering whether Kaj really was so smug that even the sight of uniformed policemen showing up at his door didn’t worry him that he might have been found out. Or maybe he was simply a good actor.

  ‘We have a warrant to search the premises. And we request that you accompany us to the station for questioning.’ Patrik kept his voice extremely formal.

  ‘A warrant to search my house? What the hell? Did that damned woman think this up? I swear I’m going to …’ Kaj stepped onto the porch, heading for the Florins’ house. Patrik held up his hand, and Martin blocked his way.

  ‘This has nothing to do with Lilian Florin. We have information that implicates you in child pornography.’

  Kaj stiffened. Patrik realized that he hadn’t been acting earlier: this really was a surprise. Stammering, he tried to regain his composure.

  ‘Wha … what in … what are you saying, man?’ But his protest sounded powerless, and the shock had made his shoulders slump.

  ‘As I said, we have a warrant to search the premises, and if you’d be so kind as to come with us, we intend to continue this conversation quietly at the station.’

  Patrik had to keep swallowing to get the bitter taste out of his mouth. He wanted to throw himself at Kaj and shake him, ask him how, why, what it was that enticed him about children that he couldn’t get in an adult relationship. But there would be plenty of time for those questions. The most important thing right now was to secure the evidence.

  Kaj seemed to be utterly paralyzed. Without replying or taking along a jacket, he followed them down the stairs and compliantly got into the back seat of one of the police cars.

  Patrik turned to his colleagues from Uddevalla. ‘We’ll take him in and begin the questioning. You do what you have to do here, and call if you find anything we can use. I know I don’t have to point this out, but I’ll say it anyway: take all the computers and don’t forget that the warrant includes the cabin on the property. I know there’s at least one computer in there.’

  His colleagues nodded seriously and entered the house.

  Elated, Lilian strolled past the police cars as she made her way home. Her dreams had been answered. An entire phalanx of officers outside Kaj’s house, and on top of that, she’d seen Kaj himself being led into one of the cars. She was overjoyed. After all these years of trouble, karma had finally caught up with him. God knows that she herself had always behaved correctly. Could she help it that she valued decorum? Could she help it that he had been so unneighborly, so that she had been forced to answer in kind? And people had the nerve to claim that she was belligerent. Sure, she’d heard the gossip. But the trouble between them was not her fault. If Kaj hadn’t kept it up by bothering them and doing stupid things, she wouldn’t have made a fuss. And as for that peculiar son of theirs, everybody knew that sooner or later, people like that would present problems. Even though she may have exaggerated her account of Morgan’s snooping, she did it only to prevent further problems. People like that could come up with anything if they were allowed to run free, and it was common knowledge that they had an overactive sex drive.

  But now everybody see what she had known all along. It wasn’t outside her house that the police were swarming. With crossed arms and a satisfied smile, she paused outside her front door to enjoy the show.

  When the police car with Kaj drove off, she reluctantly went inside. She pondered for a moment whether to go next door as a concerned citizen and ask what was going on. But the police quickly disappeared inside Kaj’s house, and she didn’t want to seem like such a busybody that she would go over and knock on the door.

  As she took off her shoes and hung up her jacket, she wondered whether Monica knew what was going on. Maybe she ought to call her at the library and tell her, just to be neighborly. But Stig’s voice from upstairs interrupted her thoughts.

  ‘Lilian, is that you?’

  She went upstairs. He sounded feeble today. ‘Yes, darling, it’s me.’

  ‘Where have you been?’

  He looked up at her pitifully as she entered his bedroom. What a weak little soul he was now. Tenderness flared inside her when she realized how dependent he was on her care. It warmed her heart to feel so needed. It was like when Charlotte was a child. What a feeling of power that had been, to be responsible for such a helpless little life. She had liked that period the best. Gradually, as Charlotte grew up, she had slipped more and more out of her mother’s hands. If Lilian had been able to do so, she would have frozen time and stopped her from growing up altogether. But the harder she tried to hold on to her daughter, the more she pulled away. Instead, Charlotte had given all her love and respect to her father. She was Charlotte’s mother, which should count for more: she was the one who’d given birth to her and spent so many years satisfying all her needs. Then Lennart had just taken over, reaping the fruits of all Lilian’s labors. He had turned Charlotte into a daddy’s girl. After Charlotte moved out and it was just the two of them, he’d started talking about divorce, as if Charlotte had been the only one who counted all those years.

  The memory made her throat sting with anger, and she forced herself to smile at Stig. At least he needed her. And so did Niclas, to some extent, though he didn’t know it himself. Charlotte had no idea how good she had it. She was constantly grumbling that her husband never helped out, that he didn’t do his part when it came to the children. Ungrateful, that’s what she was. But Lilian had also begun to feel deeply disappointed with Niclas. Now he came home and snapped at her and talked about moving. But she knew where these whims came from; she just hadn’t expected him to be so easily influenced.

  ‘You look so stern,’ said Stig, reaching for her hand. She pretended not to notice and instead carefully smoothed out the bedspread.

  Stig always took Charlotte’s side, so Lilian couldn’t share her thoughts with him. Instead she said, ‘There’s an awful commotion next door. Police everywhere. This is no fun, let me tell you, having such people living so close.’

  Stig sat up with a start. The movement made him grimace and grab his stomach, but his face was filled with hope. ‘It must be about Sara. Do you think they’ve found out anything about Sara?’

  Lilian nodded. ‘Probably. Why else would they send out a whole contingent?’

  ‘It would be a blessing for Charlotte and Niclas if we could have an end to all this.’

  ‘Yes, and you know how it has been upsetting me too, Stig. Now maybe I can have peace in my soul again.’

  She let Stig pat her hand, and his voice was as loving as usual when he said, ‘Of course, darling. You have such a kind heart; this has been a terrible time for you.’ He turned her hand over and kissed her palm.

  She waited a second longer b
efore pulling her hand back. Brusquely she pointed out, ‘It’s nice to hear someone worrying about me for a change. Let’s just hope that we’re right, and that they took Kaj away because of Sara.’

  ‘What else do you think it could be?’ Stig sounded surprised.

  ‘Well, I don’t know. I didn’t really think about it. But I of all people know what he’s capable of—’

  ‘When is the funeral?’ Stig interrupted.

  Lilian got up from the side of the bed. ‘We’re still waiting to hear when we can get the body back. Probably next week sometime.’

  ‘Please don’t use the word “body.” It’s our Sara we’re talking about.’

  ‘She’s actually my grandchild, not yours,’ Lilian snapped.

  ‘I loved her too, and you know it,’ said Stig gently.

  ‘Yes, dear, I know. Forgive me. All this is just so hard for me, and nobody seems to understand.’ She wiped away a tear, as Stig looked remorseful.

  ‘No, no, the fault is mine. That was stupid of me. Can you forgive me, darling?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Lilian magnanimously. ‘And now I think you should rest and not think so much about all this. I’ll go downstairs and make you a cup of tea. Then maybe you can sleep for a while afterwards.’

  ‘What have I done to deserve you?’ said Stig to his wife with a smile.

  It wasn’t easy for Mellberg to concentrate on work. Not because he had ever prioritized that part of his life, but he usually was able to get at least a little bit done. And he should be focusing more closely on the situation with Ernst. But since last Saturday, his whole world had changed. Back home in his flat, the boy was playing video games, new ones that he’d bought him yesterday. Mellberg had always kept a tight grip on his wallet, and yet he had suddenly felt an irresistible urge to be generous. And video games were clearly what stood at the top of the list for Simon, so video games it would be. Mellberg had bought an Xbox and three games, and even though he’d been shocked at the price, he hadn’t balked.