Åke Edwardson - Sail of Stone

“I’ve lived in the same city my whole life, Steve. I haven’t experienced what you’re experiencing.”

Such different lives we’ve had, really, thought Winter. Macdonald came from a little one-horse town; he had taken his first independent steps on the streets of this small town. Winter was a big-city boy.

Lorraine came with the coffee and the fruitcake, which was heavy with fruit.

“How’s it going, Lorraine?” asked Macdonald.

“It’s going,” she answered.

“I see you need dishwashers,” Macdonald said, smiling.

“If you’re in town on Wednesdays and Fridays, well…,” Lorraine said.

Macdonald smiled again but didn’t answer.

“Otherwise it’s pretty much like for everyone else here,” said Lorraine. “Divorced from a jerk of a guy and two half-grown kids to support.”

“Who was the jerk?” asked Macdonald.

“Rob Montgomerie,” she answered.

Macdonald raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I know,” she said, smiling a smile that might have been acid, “but you weren’t here anymore, Steve, were you?”

Macdonald suddenly looked guilty. Winter noticed that he lowered his eyes. Lorraine walked back to the counter. Macdonald watched her go.

“Now I really feel guilty,” he said.

“You knew that guy?”

“He was a jerk,” said Macdonald. “Poor Lorraine.” Macdonald turned to Winter. “Sometimes it doesn’t matter how grown-up you are, there are people you will dislike your whole life.” He looked at Lorraine. “She must have been desperate.”

“She’s gotten away from it,” said Winter.

“I’m not sure,” said Macdonald. “Rob was a violent type.”

As they left, Macdonald took Lorraine aside for a second.

Winter waited outside.

“That bastard has stayed away so far, anyway,” Macdonald said when he came out to the sidewalk.

“You look like you’re back in high school,” said Winter.

Which is true, he thought. When Steve comes back here he becomes the person he was then. That’s how time works.

“There are a lot of wife beaters here,” said Macdonald.

“Where isn’t there?” said Winter.

Aneta Djanali was waiting in the room when they showed Sigge Lindsten in. It was an important distinction: He was shown into the room; he wasn’t brought into it.

Halders cleared his throat and they started, and the tape recorder turned. Lindsten answered everything as though this had all been well rehearsed. But he didn’t know anything.

Halders asked about various addresses on the outskirts of Brantingsmotet. Lindsten was the least-aware person in the world.

“I’m going to tell you more than I need to,” said Halders. “Stored in those warehouses I just mentioned are stolen goods from burglaries of many houses around Gothenburg.”

“I see,” said Lindsten.

“Headquarters,” said Halders, “on the way out to the fences and buyers.”

“It seems things like that are becoming more and more common,” said Lindsten.

“Like what?” Halders asked.

“Thefts, and organizations, or whatever they’re called.”

“That’s right,” said Halders. “A large organization.”

“But what does this have to do with me?”

“Well, I’ll tell you one more thing,” said Halders. “We followed a truck that was leaving those crammed warehouses on Hisingen, and it drove through the entire city to Fastlagsgatan in Kortedala and stopped outside entrance number five, and guess who arrived shortly thereafter and spoke to the driver?”

“No idea,” said Lindsten.

“It was you!” said Halders.

“Why, that’s a surprise,” said Lindsten.

“And one more thing,” said Halders. “The truck had stolen license plates.”

“How do you know that?”

“Sorry?”

“Maybe it was the truck that was stolen?” said Lindsten.

“And the plates weren’t stolen?” Halders quickly looked to the side, at Aneta. “Is that what you mean?”

“It was just a thought,” Lindsten said, shrugging. “Who were they, then?”

“Who?” asked Halders.

“The guys in the truck,” said Lindsten.

“Who said there was more than one?” said Halders.

“I was there, wasn’t I?” Lindsten smiled a smile that had to be called sly, thought Aneta. “And I was there. And I remember that a truck was parked outside the door when I came out, and I told them that they couldn’t park there, and then they asked directions to somewhere and then they left.” He inhaled through his nose twice. “I don’t know if your witness heard what we said, but if he did then he can confirm that.”

“They were waiting for you,” Halders said.

Lindsten made a gesture that might have expressed resignation to dealing with the feeble-minded person across from him.

“I’m going to tell you one more thing,” said Halders.

“Why should I listen to all of this?” said Lindsten.

“In one of the warehouses on Hisingen we found what we believe is the entirety of Anette’s belongings from the apartment in Kortedala,” said Halders. “We have checked the lists from the record carefully. We have been there. And there are a few framed photos.”

“That’s good news,” said Lindsten. “Is that why I’m here? To identify the things, or whatever it’s called?”

“Most of the stuff in that warehouse was all helter-skelter, but Anette’s things were placed very neatly on their own behind separate screens. Everything was very neat when it came to your daughter’s belongings.”

“I’m thankful for that,” said Lindsten.

“Why do you think that was?” asked Halders.

“No idea,” Lindsten answered. “I’m just glad that her things might have turned up.”

Lindsten went on his way to Brantingsmotet in a marked car. Aneta and Halders followed.

Lindsten recognized the things as Anette’s.

He signed some papers.

They waved good-bye out on the pavement.

Inside it was like a hangar with odds and ends and furniture and kitchen appliances and the devil and his grandma.

“There’s more than I expected,” said Aneta.

“There are more warehouses like this one,” said Halders.

“My God.”

“What is it that I’m not getting here?” said Halders.

“And me,” said Aneta.

“Lindsten’s daughter is subjected to threats and suspected assault by her husband. The neighbors report it. She doesn’t want to file a report, which is all too tragically familiar. She flees to her home. Her apartment is cleaned out under the supervision of Detective Inspector Aneta Djanal-”

“Please,” Aneta interrupted.

“-Djanali, and that very apartment is then sublet to Moa Ringmar of all people, and she moves in and moves out quick as fuck when she learns about the history of the place. At the same time, Gothenburg’s Finest are working on a large operation to crack a gigantic theft ring with an IKEA-class warehouse on Hisingen, and a truck leaves from there, maybe on a mission, maybe not, and it drives straight to Anette’s apartment but before anyone goes into the building Sigge Lindsten comes out and calls it off.”

“What is it he calls off?” said Aneta.

“That’s my question, too,” said Halders. “One guess is that they were going to clean out the apartment again. But the guys in the truck didn’t know it was already empty. Eventually someone tells Lindsten that they’re on their way there and he shows up and explains the situation and the thieves take off again.”

“He could have just called,” said Aneta.

“Maybe he didn’t dare.”

“Was he already so suspicious? Of us?”

“He’s not dumb,” said Halders. “And he probably didn’t think Bergenhem was tailing the truck.”