Camilla Lackberg Crime Thrillers 4-6: The Stranger, The Hidden Child, The Drowning

‘Then perhaps we should save those places on the guest list for someone Patrik has seen within the past twenty-seven years,’ said Erica, fighting an urge to give her sister a high-five.

‘I suppose you’ll do what you like anyway,’ said Kristina, annoyed. She realized that this point on her agenda could now be considered lost. But taking yet another sip of the disgusting tea she deployed her coup de grâce, keeping her eyes fixed on Erica. ‘I hope that Lotta will get to be maid of honour!’

Erica gave Anna a desperate look. She hadn’t even considered asking Patrik’s sister to be maid of honour; she naturally wanted Anna to play that role. Erica sat in silence for a moment, pondering how to counter Kristina’s latest manoeuvre. Then she decided simply to lay her cards on the table.

‘Anna is going to be maid of honour,’ she said calmly. ‘And as to the other details of the wedding, I want them to be a surprise. You’ll just have to wait until the wedding day.’

Kristina opened her mouth to protest, but she saw the steely glint in Erica’s eyes and stopped. Instead she contented herself with muttering, ‘Well, I was just trying to help. That’s all. But if you don’t want my help then …’

Erica didn’t say a word. She merely smiled and took another gulp of her coffee.

Patrik slept all the way to Borås. He was worn out after everything that had happened in the past few weeks, and after sitting up all night reading through Gradenius’s documents. When he woke up, just at the outskirts of Borås, he had a nasty crick in his neck from sleeping with his head leaning on the window. With a grimace he massaged the sore spot as he blinked at the light.

‘We’ll be there in five minutes,’ said Martin. ‘I talked to Eva Olsson and got directions to her home. I think we’re close.’

‘Good,’ said Patrik, trying to collect his thoughts before the interview. Rasmus Olsson’s mother had sounded so eager when they rang. She invited them to stop by and have a chat. ‘Finally,’ she said, ‘finally somebody is going to listen to me.’ Patrik sincerely hoped they wouldn’t have to disappoint her.

The directions she had given Martin were excellent, and it didn’t take long before they found the block where she lived. They pressed the button for her flat and were buzzed in. Two flights up the door opened as soon as they set foot on the landing. A small dark-haired woman stood waiting for them. They shook hands and she showed them into the living room. She had set out coffee on a table with a lace tablecloth; dainty cups and elegant serviettes and cake forks. There was milk in a slender pitcher and sugar in a bowl with silver tongs. Everything was so delicate and refined that the table seemed to be set for a doll’s tea party. Five kinds of pastries were also arranged on a big china platter decorated with the same pattern as the cups.

‘Please have a seat,’ she said, pointing to a sofa with floral upholstery. The flat was filled with light. The triple-paned window kept out the traffic noise from the street; the only sound was the ticking of an old clock on the wall. Patrik recognized the elaborate gold pattern and shape of the clock. His grandmother used to have one just like it.

‘Do you both drink coffee? Otherwise I have tea.’ She gave them an eager glance. She wanted so much to please them that it cut Patrik to the heart. He sensed that she didn’t often have visitors.

‘We’d love some coffee,’ he said with a smile. As she carefully filled their cups he reflected that she looked just as small and delicate as the crockery. She was probably between fifty and sixty, he guessed, but it was hard to tell because she had an air of eternal sadness about her. As if time had stopped. Oddly enough she seemed to know what he was thinking.

‘It’s almost three and a half years since Rasmus died,’ she said. She looked over at the photographs that were displayed on a large secretaire at one end of the room. Patrik looked too and recognized the man from the photos in the folder that Gradenius had given him. But the circumstances of those pictures bore little resemblance to the settings of the photos in the room.

‘May I take a pastry?’ Martin asked.

Eva Olsson nodded as she tore her eyes away from the photos of her son. ‘Yes, please do, be my guest.’

Martin reached for a pastry and placed it on the plate before him. He looked at Patrik, who took a deep breath before he spoke.

‘As I told you on the phone, we’re taking another look into Rasmus’s death.’

‘Yes, I understand that,’ said Eva, and there was a spark of interest round the sadness in her eyes. ‘What puzzles me is why the police from – Tanumshede, was it? – are taking a closer look. Shouldn’t it be the police here in Borås?’

‘Yes, technically it should be. But the investigation here has been closed, and we think we may have found a connection to a case we have in our district.’

‘A different case?’ said Eva in surprise, stopping with her cup halfway to her lips.

‘Yes. I can’t go into the details at present,’ said Patrik. ‘But it would help us a great deal if you could tell us everything that happened when Rasmus died.’

‘Well,’ she began, but then hesitated. Patrik realized that no matter how glad she was that they would now be investigating her son’s death, she was terrified of digging up old memories. He gave her time to collect her thoughts. After a few moments she continued, though with a light tremor to her voice.

‘It was the second of October three years ago, now almost three and a half years. Rasmus … was living here with me. He couldn’t manage setting up his own place. He went to work every day, leaving at eight o’clock. He’d had that job for eight years and got along well with everybody. They were very nice to him.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘He always used to come home at three. He was never more than ten minutes late. Never. Then …’ The words stuck in her throat but she went on. ‘Then it was suddenly a quarter past three, then three thirty, and finally four. By then I knew something was wrong. I knew something had happened. And I rang the police at once, but they, they wouldn’t listen to me. They just told me that he’d probably be home soon, that he was a grown man and they couldn’t put out a missing persons report on him yet, not on such tenuous grounds. That’s exactly what they said, “not on such tenuous grounds”. Personally, I don’t think there are any stronger grounds than a mother’s intuition, but what do I know?’ She gave them a wan smile.

‘How …’ Martin fumbled for the best way to express it, ‘how much help did Rasmus need on a daily basis?’

‘You mean, how retarded was he?’ Eva said straight out, and Martin nodded reluctantly.

‘In the beginning, not at all. Rasmus had top grades in most subjects, and he was an enormous help around the house as well. It was just the two of us, from the beginning.’ She smiled again, a smile that was so full of love and sorrow that Patrik had to look away. ‘It was after he was involved in a traffic accident when he was eighteen that he … changed. He suffered a head injury and was never the same again. He couldn’t take care of himself, make plans for his life, or move away from home like other boys his age. He stayed here, with me. And we made a life together. A good life; I think both Rasmus and I viewed it that way. The best we could do under the circumstances, at any rate. Of course he had his dark moments, but we got through them together.’

‘Those “dark moments” were the reason the police didn’t investigate his death as a murder, am I right?’

‘Yes. Rasmus tried to take his own life once. Two years after the accident. When he finally realized how much he had changed, and that nothing was ever going to be the same. But I found him in time. And he promised me he’d never try it again. I know that he kept his promise.’ She looked first at Patrik and then at Martin.

‘So what happened then? What happened on the day that he died?’ Patrik asked cautiously. He reached for a hazelnut and almond tart. His stomach was growling, telling him that it was past lunchtime, but he could probably stave off the hunger for a while with the help of a little sugar.

‘They rang the doorbell. Just before eight. I knew as soon as I saw them.’ Mrs Olsson took her serviette and carefully blotted a tear that was on its way down her cheek. ‘They told me they’d found Rasmus. That he had jumped off a bridge. It … it … was so absurd. He would never do that. And they said it seemed as though he’d had a lot to drink beforehand. But that made no sense at all. Rasmus never touched alcohol. He couldn’t after the accident. No, it was all wrong, and I told them so. But nobody believed me.’ She lowered her eyes and wiped away another tear. ‘They closed the case after a while, wrote it off as a suicide. But I’ve rung Inspector Gradenius at regular intervals, just so he won’t forget. I do think he believed me. At least partially. And now you show up.’

‘Yes,’ said Patrik, looking thoughtful. ‘Now we show up.’ He knew only too well how difficult it was for family members to accept the idea of suicide. How they searched for any reason at all to explain why the one they loved would have voluntarily chosen to leave them and cause them so much pain. Often they knew deep inside that it was suicide. But in this case Patrik was inclined to believe the mother’s statements. Her story raised as many questions as did Marit’s death, and his gut feeling that there was a connection grew even stronger.

‘Do you still have the things that were in his room?’ he said impulsively.

‘Yes, of course,’ said Eva, getting to her feet. She seemed grateful for the interruption. ‘I’ve left it untouched all this time. It might seem … sentimental, but it’s all I have left of Rasmus. Sometimes I go in and sit down on the edge of his bed and talk to him. Tell him how my day has been, what the weather is like, what’s been happening in the world. Silly old woman, aren’t I?’ she said with a laugh that opened up her whole face.

Patrik could see that she must have been very pretty when she was young. Not beautiful, but pretty. A photo they passed in the hallway confirmed this. A young Eva holding a baby in her arms. Her face beamed with happiness even though it must have been hard to be on her own with a baby. Especially back in those days.

‘Here it is,’ said Eva, showing them into a room at the end of the hall. Rasmus’s room was just as elegant and neat as the rest of the flat. But the room had its own atmosphere. It was obvious that he had furnished it himself.

‘He liked animals,’ Eva said proudly, sitting down on the bed.

‘Yes, I can see that,’ said Patrik with a laugh. There were pictures of animals everywhere. He had animal pillows, an animal bedspread, and a big rug with a tiger motif on the floor.

‘His dream was to work as a zookeeper. All the other boys wanted to be firemen or astronauts, but Rasmus wanted to be a zookeeper. I thought he would grow out of it, but he was very determined. At least until …’ Her voice faded. She cleared her throat and carefully ran her hand over the bedspread. ‘After the accident he still had a strong interest in animals. It was … a godsend that he was allowed to work at the pet shop. He loved his job, and he was good at it too. He was responsible for feeding the animals and cleaning the cages and aquariums. And he took great pride in doing it well.’

‘Could we take a look around?’

Eva got up. ‘Take as long as you like, ask me whatever you like, just so you do your best to give me, and Rasmus, peace.’

She left the room, and Patrik exchanged a look with Martin. They didn’t need to say a thing. Both of them felt the responsibility that was weighing heavily on their shoulders. They didn’t want to dash Rasmus’s mother’s hopes, but it was impossible to promise that their investigation would lead anywhere. Yet they still intended to do everything they could.

‘I’ll look through the drawers, and you can take the wardrobes,’ said Patrik, pulling out the top bureau drawer.

Martin headed for the wall with the simple white wardrobes. ‘Is there anything in particular we’re looking for?’

‘No idea, to be honest,’ Patrik said. ‘Anything that could give us a lead to what sort of connection there might have been between Rasmus and Marit.’

‘Okay,’ Martin sighed. He knew that it was hard enough to find something when they knew what they were looking for; searching for something unknown and indeterminable was a virtually impossible task.

For an hour they carefully went through everything in Rasmus’s room. They found nothing to arouse their interest. Absolutely nothing. Dejectedly they went back to Eva, who was busy cleaning up the kitchen. She met them in the doorway.

‘Thanks for letting us look in Rasmus’s room.’

‘Not at all,’ she said, looking at them with a hopeful expression. ‘Did you find anything?’ Their silence told her the answer, and hope was replaced by dejection.

‘What we’re looking for is a connection with the victim in our district. A woman named Marit Kaspersen. Does that ring a bell? Could Rasmus have met her somewhere?’