Åke Edwardson - Sail of Stone

“A person should probably live out here,” said Winter. “It’s always cloudy in the city but when you come out here, it clears up. It’s always like that.”

“Well, you’re going to build by the sea.”

Winter didn’t answer.

“Right?” Ringmar observed him. “You did buy the land.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Mmhmm? Aren’t you sure? Didn’t you both decide?”

“Yeah, I guess we did.”

“It’s great to hear young, enthusiastic people talking about their future.”

Winter squinted at the sky.

“You have a family, and you and I both know what Angela wants. And imagine how Elsa will love life by the sea.”

Vipan sped up toward Asperö East. They saw the bathing beach, the bay, and the houses on the right, which were visible behind the passage, Asperö North, Brännö Rödsten. Life by the sea. It had its different sides, dark and light.

But this was life on the islands, all around him; it was different from life by a beach on the mainland.

“Get started building now, Erik. I can help out with the administration of your topping-out party.” He shivered suddenly in the gusty wind. “What do you say to a cup of coffee?”

They asked their way to Arne Algotsson’s house. It was on one of the sheltered streets. The colors of the houses hadn’t been transformed by the wind and the sun and the salt, not like on the other houses they’d passed. The front of the house lay in shadow. Maybe that was the reason.

Ringmar knocked on the heavy door, which seemed to be sunk into the ground. If they were allowed in they would have to duck. The woman who’d answered when Ringmar called had sounded dismissive but accepting, at least then. Her name was Ella Algotsson and she was Arne Algotsson’s sister; she had always lived on Donsö and had never been married. She was over eighty years old and she took care of her brother now. Arne lived his life in there. According to Johanna Osvald, he never went out.

Ringmar knocked again, and they heard sounds, as though iron bolts were being lifted away on the other side.

The door opened and the woman nodded warily. She was short and thin. Winter could see the skin on her arms; it was like pale leather. Her face had more wrinkles than Ringmar would ever get. They ran in all directions. She looked at Ringmar, who was the shorter of the two inspectors. Her eyes were transparently blue, a washed-out shade, whitewashed, and Winter thought for a moment that she was blind.

“What is’t this time?” she said.

“Sorry?” said Ringmar.

“What you sayin’ sorry fer?” she said.

Ringmar looked at Winter, who was smiling a little. These were literal people.

“I’m the one who called,” said Ringmar.

“What?”

“I’m the one who called. I spoke to a woman who answered here and the-”

“That was the assistant,” answered Ella Algotsson as though she were the CEO of Västtrafik public transport, which had taken over the archipelago lines. “She isn’t here now, so you can go again.”

“But you’re the one we want to talk to, Mrs. Algotsson. She-”

“Miss.”

“Miss Algotsson,” said Ringmar. “She said that it would be okay for us to talk to you and your brother for a little bit.” Ringmar took out his wallet, showed her his ID. “My name is Bertil Ringmar and I’m a detective in Gothenburg, and this young man is Erik Winter and he’s my assistant.”

Winter showed his ID. Ella Algotsson looked at it, then looked suspiciously to Winter and then to Ringmar.

“Can’e really mek food?”

“Make food?” Ringmar gestured toward Winter. “That’s what he’s best at.”

“Arne’s sleepin’,” she said.

“Can we wait?” said Ringmar.

“He’s tired, Arne is.”

“We can leave for a bit and come back,” said Ringmar.

She didn’t answer.

“Has anyone else been here asking about Arne?” asked Ringmar.

“What’s that?” she said.

“When we came, you wondered what it was this time.”

“Axel was here,” she said.

Ringmar looked at Winter.

“Axel?” asked Ringmar, who got to be in charge of questioning. His assistant had the sense to know his place and keep quiet. Winter had backed up a few steps. “Axel Osvald?” Ringmar leaned a bit closer. She didn’t seem to hear. “Was Axel Osvald here recently to talk to Arne?”

“A few weeks ago,” she said, without hesitation. “They sat in the parlor. I wasn’t there.”

“What did they talk about?”

“The’ talked abou’ before o’course,” she said. “That’s all Arne can talk about. Ev’rythin’ else he’s forgot. But before he ca’ remember some’a.”

He can remember the past, Winter translated to himself.

“His Erik were here too,” she said. Ringmar hadn’t asked anything further. But he had earned her trust. She hadn’t asked what brought the inspector here, why he wanted to speak to her elderly brother. It didn’t seem to be of concern to her. Did she know something? Something more than that John Osvald had disappeared once upon a time? Winter tried to see her face behind the wrinkles that were her face, and there were her eyes with that strange, glimmering blue color that was almost a source of light in the dim hallway where she stood, and those eyes were directed at Ringmar the entire time. Did she know something that her brother Arne had once known but had forgotten long ago? Had some secret ended up within her? She had said that Axel and Erik Osvald had been looking for her brother, but maybe they’d also spoken with her.

They hadn’t asked about that.

“Erik?” said Ringmar. “Erik Osvald?”

“Yes.”

“Was he here along with his father? With Axel?”

“No. It was after.”

Moa Ringmar released her grip on the box and straightened up. She looked first at Aneta and then at Halders. Now she recognizes me, thought Aneta. It’s not some local darkie standing here.

“Didn’t Dad tell you? Isn’t he the one who sent you here?” asked Moa, whose eyes had become sharper.

“Moa!” said Halders. “Now the gears are starting to turn. You’re Moa Ringmar!”

“Bertil didn’t send us, Moa,” said Aneta. “We’re here on duty. And he has no idea what we’re doing here.”

“The state can’t afford to let us work as moving men too,” said Halders.

“And moving women,” said Moa.

“Yes,” said Aneta.

“I meant that he meant that you were to keep an eye on me in general.”

“Why would we do that?” asked Aneta.

“Because this is dangerous and unfamiliar territory for someone from idyllic Kungsladugård,” said Moa.

Never trust idylls, thought Aneta. They are even worse.

“Which apartment are you moving into?” asked Halders.

She told them, and they asked who she was renting it from.

“His name is Lindsten.”

“Is it a sublet?”

“Yes, for now. It’s a rental, of course. It could be-”

She stopped talking and looked from one detective to the other.

“Have I done something illegal here?” she asked. “It wasn’t a problem for the landlord.”

“I’m going to tell you something, Moa,” said Halders.

Ringmar took a deep breath, in and out, up on a cliff behind the houses. They could see the open sea and the coastline past Näset, to Askim, Hovås, Billdal, Särö, and down to Vallda. A fog was floating above the water, but it didn’t ruin the view. Ringmar threw out his arms.

“All of this can be yours, Erik.”

Winter had an unlit Corps in his mouth. He tried to see the little bay south of Billdal. It was impossible.

“The message has been received, Bertil.”

“Do you think the old man will be more conscious this afternoon?” said Ringmar.