Camilla Lackberg Crime Thrillers 1 and 2: The Ice Princess, The Preacher

The door to the gallery opened and they heard somebody stamping the wet snow from their shoes on the doormat. Francine got up.

‘That’s probably a customer. I have to go. I hope I’ve been of some help.’

‘Oh yes, I’m very grateful that you and Henrik have both been so frank. You’ve been a great help.’

After Francine assured the customer that she would be right back, she showed Erica to the door. In front of an enormous canvas with a white square on a blue field they stopped and shook hands.

‘Just out of curiosity, what would a painting like this go for? Five thousand, ten thousand?’

Francine smiled. ‘More like fifty.’

Erica gave a low whistle. ‘So, there you see. Art and fine wine. Two areas that remain complete mysteries to me.’

‘And I can barely write a shopping list. We all have our specialities.’

They laughed. Erica pulled her coat tighter even though it was still damp and headed out into the rain.

The rain had transformed the snow to slush, and she drove a bit below the speed limit just to be on the safe side. After wasting almost half an hour trying to get out of Hisingen, where she had ended up by mistake, she was now approaching Uddevalla. A dull rumble in her stomach reminded her that she had totally forgotten to eat all day. She turned off the E6 at the Torp shopping centre north of Uddevalla and drove into McDonald’s. She gulped down a cheeseburger as she sat in the parking lot and was soon back out on the motorway. The whole time her thoughts were filled with the conversations she’d had with Henrik and Francine. What they had told her created an image of a woman who had built high defensive walls around herself.

What Erica was most curious about was who could be the father of Alex’s baby. Francine didn’t think that it was Henrik’s, but no one could ever be completely sure what happened in other people’s bedrooms, and Erica still reckoned it was a possibility. If not, the question was whether the father was the man that Francine hinted Alex had gone to meet every weekend in Fjällbacka, or whether she had a lover in Göteborg.

Erica had got the impression that Alex was leading some sort of parallel life. She did as she liked, without worrying about how it would affect those close to her, and Henrik in particular. Erica had the feeling that Francine had a hard time understanding how Henrik could accept a marriage under those conditions. She also thought that Francine disdained him for that reason. Yet Erica could understand all too well how these sorts of things happened. She had been observing Anna and Lucas’s marriage for many years.

What depressed Erica most about Anna’s inability to change her situation was that she couldn’t help wondering whether she was part of the reason for Anna’s lack of self-respect. Erica was five years old when Anna was born. From the first instant she saw her little sister she had tried to protect her from the reality she carried round with her like an invisible wound. Anna would never have to feel alone and rejected because of their mother’s lack of love for her daughters. The hugs and loving words that Anna did not get from her mother, Erica supplied in abundance. She watched over her little sister with motherly concern.

Anna was an easy child to love. She was totally immune to the sadder aspects of life and took each moment as it came. Erica, who was old beyond her years and often upset, was fascinated by the energy with which her sister loved every minute of her life. Anna took Erica’s anxieties in stride but seldom had the patience to sit on her lap or let herself be cuddled for very long. She grew up to be a wild teenager who did precisely whatever she pleased, an unflappable and self-centred girl. In moments of clarity, Erica admitted to herself that she had probably both protected and coddled Anna far too much. She was just trying to give her what she herself had never received.

When Anna met Lucas she became easy prey. She was enthralled by his surface charm but failed to see the stifling forces underneath. Slowly, very slowly he broke down her joie de vivre and self-confidence by playing on her vanity. Now she sat in Östermalm like a lovely bird in a cage and did not have the power to realize her mistake. Every day Erica hoped that Anna of her own free will would reach out her hand and ask her for help. Until that day, Erica could do no more than wait and remain available. Not that she’d had any great luck with relationships herself. She had a long string of broken relationships and promises behind her; she was usually the one who had broken them off. There was something that snapped whenever she reached a certain point in a relationship. A feeling of panic so strong that she could hardly breathe; she had to clear out, lock and stock, without looking back. And yet, as long ago as she could remember, Erica had paradoxically yearned to have children and a family. She was now thirty-five and the years were slipping away from her.

Damn it, she had managed to repress the thought of Lucas all day long, but now he had got under her skin again, and she knew she would have to find out how vulnerable her position actually was. She was altogether too tired to deal with it now. It would have to wait till tomorrow. She felt an acute need to relax for the rest of the day, without thinking about either Lucas or Alexandra Wijkner.

She punched in a speed-dial number on her mobile.

‘Hi, it’s Erica. Are you two at home tonight? I thought I’d drop by for a while.’

Dan gave a warm laugh. ‘Are we at home? Don’t you know what tonight is?’

The silence that met her at the other end of the line was alarmingly total. Erica thought hard but couldn’t recall that there was anything special about this evening. Not a holiday, nobody’s birthday. Dan and Pernilla had been married in the summer, so it couldn’t be their anniversary.

‘No, I really have no idea. Tell me.’

There was a deep sigh on the line and Erica realized that the big event had to be sports-related. Dan was an enormous sports fan, which sometimes caused a bit of friction between him and his wife Pernilla. Erica had found her own way of retaliating for all the evenings she had to spend looking at some meaningless sporting event on TV when they were together. Dan was a fanatic follower of the Djurgården hockey team, so Erica had taken on the role of rabid AIK fan. Actually she was totally uninterested in sports in general and hockey in particular, and so it seemed to annoy Dan even more. What really got his goat was when AIK lost and she didn’t seem to care.

‘Sweden is playing Belarus!’

He sensed her lack of comprehension and heaved another deep sigh. ‘The Olympic Games, Erica, the Olympics. Aren’t you aware that such an event is going on …?’

‘Oh, you mean the football match? Yes, of course I know about that. I thought you meant that there was something special tonight besides that.’

She spoke in an exaggerated tone, clearly showing she had no idea that there was a match tonight. She smiled because she knew Dan was literally tearing his hair out over such blasphemy. Sports were not a joking matter for him.

‘But I’ll come over and check out the match with you so I can see Salming crush the Russian defence …’

‘Salming! Don’t you know how many years it’s been since he retired? You’re kidding me, right? Tell me you’re kidding.’

‘Yes, Dan, I’m kidding. I’m not that daft. I’ll come over and check out Sundin, if that suits you better. Incredibly cute guy, by the way.’

He sighed heavily yet again. This time because she had been sacrilegious enough to speak of such a giant in the hockey world in terms other than purely athletic.

‘All right, come on over. But I don’t want a repeat of last time! No yakking during the match, no comments about how sexy the players look in their shinguards, and above all, no questions about whether they’re wearing jockstraps and if they wear underpants over them. Understood?’

Erica suppressed a laugh and said seriously, ‘Scout’s honour, Dan.’

He grunted. ‘You’ve never been a scout.’

‘No, precisely.’

Then she pressed the off button on her mobile phone.

Dan and Pernilla lived in one of the relatively new row-houses in Falkeliden. The houses stood in straight lines, climbing up along Rabekullen Hill, and they looked so much alike that it was almost impossible to tell one from the other. It was a popular area for families with children, mainly because the houses had no ocean view whatever and thus hadn’t climbed to such dizzying prices as the neighbourhoods closer to the sea.

The evening was much too cold to take a walk, but the car protested vehemently when she forced it up the icy hill, only moderately sanded. She turned into Dan and Pernilla’s street with a deep sigh of relief.

Erica rang the doorbell, which instantly set off a tumultuous tramping of little feet inside, and a second later the front door was pulled open by a little girl in pyjamas with feet – Lisen, Dan and Pernilla’s youngest. Fury swelled up in Malin, the middle girl, who thought it was unfair that Lisen got to open the door for Erica, and the squabble didn’t die down until Pernilla’s firm voice was heard from the kitchen. Belina, the oldest girl, was thirteen, and Erica had seen her down by Acke’s hot-dog kiosk surrounded by some downy-cheeked boys on mopeds when she drove past the square. Dan and Pernilla were certainly going to have their hands full with her.

After the girls each got a hug, they vanished as fast as they had appeared and left Erica to hang up her coat in peace and quiet.

Pernilla was out in the kitchen fixing dinner, with rosy cheeks and an apron with ‘Kiss the Cook’ printed in huge letters on it. She looked to be in the midst of a critical stage in her preparations, and merely waved a bit distractedly at Erica before she turned back to her pots and pans, steaming and sizzling. Erica continued into the living room, where she knew she would find Dan, ensconced on the sofa with his feet on the glass coffee-table and the remote control grasped firmly in his right hand.

‘Hi! I see that the male chauvinist pig is relaxing while the missus toils by the sweat of her brow in the kitchen.’

‘Hey, Erica! Yeah, you know, if you just show them who wears the trousers in the family and run the house with an iron hand, you can whip most women into shape.’

His warm smile belied his words, and Erica knew that whoever was running the Karlsson household, it certainly wasn’t Dan.

She gave him a quick hug and settled down on the black leather sofa. She too put her feet up on the glass coffee-table, feeling quite at home. They watched the news on channel 4 for a while in cosy silence, and Erica wondered, not for the first time, whether she and Dan could have had a life like this together.

Dan was her first great love and boyfriend. They were together all through high school and had been inseparable for three years. But they wanted different things out of life. Dan wanted to stay in Fjällbacka and work as a fisherman like his father and grandfather before him, while Erica could hardly wait to move away from the little town. She had always felt she was being asphyxiated here; for her the future lay elsewhere.

They had tried to stay together for a while, with Dan back in Fjällbacka and Erica in Göteborg, but their lives went in totally different directions. After a painful break-up, they had slowly managed to build a friendship that almost fifteen years later was still strong and close.

Pernilla came into Dan’s life like a warm and comforting embrace when he was trying to get used to the idea that he and Erica had no future together. Pernilla was there when he most needed her, and she adored him in a way that filled part of the emptiness Erica had left behind. For Erica it had been a painful experience to see him with someone else, but she gradually realized that it was bound to happen sooner or later. Life went on.

Now Dan and Pernilla had three daughters together, and Erica thought that over the years they had built up a warm love for each other, even though she sometimes thought she noticed a restlessness in Dan.

At first it had not been entirely friction-free for Erica and Dan to continue their friendship. Pernilla had jealously watched over him, regarding Erica with deep suspicion. Slowly but surely Erica had managed to convince Pernilla that she wasn’t after her husband, and even though they never became best friends, they had a relaxed and warm relationship with each other. Not least because the girls obviously adored Erica. She was even Lisen’s godmother.

‘Dinner is served.’

Dan and Erica got up from their slouched position and went to the kitchen, where Pernilla had placed a steaming casserole on the table. Only two places were set, and Dan raised his eyebrows quizzically.

‘I ate with the kids. Go ahead and eat while I put them to bed.’

Erica felt ashamed that Pernilla had gone to so much trouble for her sake, but Dan shrugged his shoulders and began nonchalantly shovelling down an enormous serving of what turned out to be a rich fish stew.

‘How have you been, anyway? We haven’t seen you in weeks.’

His tone was concerned rather than accusatory, but Erica still felt a pang of guilty conscience that she had been so poor at keeping in touch recently. There had just been so much else to think about.

‘Well, things are getting better. But now it looks as though there’ll be a row over the house,’ said Erica.

‘What do you mean?’ Dan looked up from his plate in surprise. ‘You and Anna both love that house; you should be able to reach an agreement.’

‘Sure, we can. But you forget that Lucas is involved too. He smells money and probably can’t stand to miss such an opportunity. He’s never paid any attention to Anna’s opinion before, and I don’t understand why it should be any different this time.’

‘Damn it, if I could only get hold of him some dark night, he wouldn’t be so bloody cocky afterwards.’

He pounded his fist emphatically on the table and Erica didn’t doubt for a moment that he could give Lucas a real thrashing if he wanted. Dan had been powerfully built even in his teens, and the hard work on the fishing boat had built up his muscles even more, but a gentleness in his eyes belied his tough image. As far as Erica knew, he had never raised a hand to any living creature.

‘I don’t want to say too much yet, I don’t really know what the situation will be. Tomorrow I’ll ring Marianne, a lawyer friend, and find out what possibilities I have to prevent a sale, but tonight I’d rather not think about it. Besides, I’ve been through a lot in the past few days, and thoughts of my material possessions seem a bit petty.’

‘Yes, I heard about what happened.’ Dan paused. ‘What was it like to find someone dead like that?’

Erica contemplated what she should say.

‘Sad and terrible at the same time. I hope I never have to experience anything like that again.’

She told him about the article she was writing and about her conversations with Alexandra’s husband and colleague. Dan listened in silence.

‘What I don’t understand is why she closed out the most important people in her life. You should have seen her husband, he absolutely adored her. But that’s how it is with most people, I suppose. They smile and look happy but actually they feel burdened with all the worries and problems in the world.’

Dan interrupted her abruptly.

‘Erica, the game is starting in about three seconds and I would prefer an ice hockey match to your quasi-philosophical exegesis.’

‘No risk of that. Besides, I brought a book along in case the game is boring.’

Dan had mayhem in his eyes before he noticed the teasing glint in Erica’s eyes.

They made it back to the living room just in time for the face-off.

Marianne picked up at the first ring.

‘Marianne Svan.’

‘Hi, it’s Erica.’

‘Hi, it’s been ages. How nice of you to call. How are you doing? I’ve been thinking a lot about you.’

Once again Erica was reminded that she hadn’t been paying enough attention to her friends lately. She knew that they were worried about her, but the past month she hadn’t even managed to stay in touch with Anna. Yet she knew that they understood.

Marianne had been a good friend since their university days. They had studied literature together, but after almost four years of study Marianne realized that becoming a librarian was not her vocation in life, so she switched to law. Successfully, as it turned out, and she was now the youngest partner ever in one of the largest and most respected law firms in Göteborg.

‘Well, under the circumstances I’m doing okay, I suppose. I’m starting to get a little order back in my life, but there are still plenty of things to deal with.’

Marianne had never been much for small talk, and with her unerring intuition she could hear that Erica hadn’t simply called to chat.

‘So what can I do for you, Erica? I can hear there’s something on your mind, so let’s hear it.’

‘I’m really ashamed I haven’t been in touch for so long, and now that I am calling it’s because I need your help.’

‘Don’t be silly. How can I help you? Is there some sort of problem with the estate?’

‘Yes, you could certainly say that.’

Erica was sitting at the kitchen table fidgeting with the letter that had come in the morning post.

‘Anna, or rather Lucas, wants to sell the house in Fjällbacka.’

‘What do you mean?’ Marianne’s usual composure exploded. ‘Who the hell does he think he is? You love that house!’

Erica felt something suddenly snap inside her, and she burst into tears. Marianne instantly calmed down and started showering Erica with sympathy over the phone.

‘So how are you really doing? Do you want me to come over? I could be there by tonight.’

Erica’s tears flowed even harder, but after a few moments of sobbing she calmed down enough to wipe her eyes.

‘That’s incredibly nice of you, but I’m okay. Really. It’s just all been a bit too much lately. It was very traumatic to sort through Mamma and Pappa’s things, and now I’m late with my book and the publisher is after me and then all this with the house … and to top it all off, last Friday I discovered my best friend from childhood, dead.’

Laughter began bubbling inside her and with tears still in her eyes she began to laugh hysterically. It took her a while to recover.

‘Did you say ‘dead’, or did I hear you wrong?’

‘Unfortunately you heard right. I’m sorry, it must sound terrible that I’m laughing. It’s just been a bit too much. She was my best friend from when I was little, Alexandra Wijkner. She committed suicide in the bathtub of her family’s house in Fjällbacka. You probably knew her, didn’t you? She and her husband, Henrik Wijkner, apparently moved in the best circles in Göteborg, and those are the sorts of people you hobnob with these days, right?’

She smiled and knew that Marianne was doing the same at her end of the line. When they were both young students Marianne had lived in the Majorna district of Göteborg and fought for the rights of the working class. They were both aware that over the years she had been forced to think about completely different issues in order to fit in with the circles that came with her job at the venerable old law firm. Now it was chic suits and blouses with bows. It was the cocktail party in Örgryte that counted, but Erica knew that in Marianne that only served as a thin veneer over a rebellious temperament.

‘Henrik Wijkner. Yes, I do know who he is. We even share some of the same acquaintances, but I’ve never had the opportunity to meet him. A ruthless businessman, so it’s said. The type that could sack a hundred employees before breakfast without losing his appetite. His wife ran a boutique, I think?’

‘A gallery. Abstract art.’

Marianne’s words about Henrik shocked her. Erica had always considered herself a good judge of people, and he seemed anything but her idea of a ruthless businessman.

She dropped the subject of Alex and started talking about the real reason she was calling.

‘I got a letter today. From Lucas’s attorney. They’re summoning me to a meeting in Stockholm on Friday regarding the sale of Mamma and Pappa’s house, and I’m completely clueless when it comes to the law. What are my rights? Do I even have any rights? Can Lucas really do this?’

She could feel her lower lip start to quiver again and took a deep breath to calm herself down. Outside the kitchen window the ice on the bay was glistening after the last couple of days of thawing rain, followed by freezing temperatures at night. She saw a sparrow land on the window-sill and reminded herself to buy a ball of suet to put out for the birds. The sparrow cocked its head inquisitively and pecked lightly at the window. After making sure that there wasn’t anything edible being handed out, the bird flew off.

‘As you know, I’m a tax attorney, not a family rights attorney, so I can’t give you an answer straight off. But let’s do this. I’ll check with the experts in the office and ring you later today. You’re not alone, Erica. We’ll help you with this, I promise you.’

It was great to hear Marianne’s confident assurances, and when they said good-bye life seemed brighter, even though Erica actually knew no more than before she had called.

Restlessness set in almost at once. She forced herself to take up her work on the biography, but it was slow going. She had more than half of the book left to write, and the publishers were growing impatient because they hadn’t received a rough draft yet. After filling up almost two pages she read through what she had written, saw it was crap and quickly deleted several hours of work. The biography only made her feel depressed; the joy of working on it had vanished long ago. Instead, she finished writing the article about Alexandra and put it in an envelope addressed to Bohusläningen newspaper. Then it was time to ring Dan and rib him a bit about the near-fatal psychological wound he seemed to have suffered after Sweden’s spectacular loss the night before.

Feeling content, Superintendent Mellberg patted his large paunch and debated whether to take a little nap. There was still almost nothing to do, and he didn’t ascribe any great importance to the little there was.

He decided that it would be nice to doze for a moment so that his substantial lunch could be digested in peace and quiet. But he barely managed to close his eyes before a determined knocking announced that Annika Jansson, the station’s secretary, wanted something.

‘What the hell? Can’t you see I’m busy?’

In an attempt to look busy he rummaged aimlessly among the papers lying in stacks on his desk, but succeeded only in tipping over a cup of coffee. The coffee flowed towards all the papers and he grabbed the closest thing he could find to wipe up the mess – which happened to be his shirttail, since it was seldom tucked into his trousers anymore.

‘Damn it all, I’m the bloody boss of this place! Haven’t you learned to show a little respect for your superiors and knock before you come barging in?’

She didn’t feel like pointing out that she had actually done just that. With the wisdom born of age and experience, she waited calmly until the worst of his outburst was over.

‘I presume you have something to tell me,’ Mellberg seethed.

Annika answered in a restrained voice. ‘Forensic Medicine in Göteborg has been looking for you. Forensic Pathologist Tord Pedersen, to be precise. You can ring him at this number.’

She held out a piece of paper with the number carefully printed on it.

‘Did he say what it’s about?’

Curiosity was giving him a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach. They didn’t hear from Forensic Medicine very often out here in the sticks. Perhaps there would be a chance for some inspired police work for a change.

He waved Annika away distractedly and clamped the telephone receiver between his ear and shoulder. Then he eagerly began dialling the number.