Camilla Läckberg - The Drowning

Patrik sensed that she needed to be alone for a moment, so he seized the opportunity to get up and leave the room. He started his search in the living room. It looked much like the living room in thousands of other Swedish homes. A big, dark blue sofa from IKEA. Billy bookshelves with built-in lighting. A flat-screen TV on a stand made of the same light-coloured wood as the coffee table. Little knickknacks and travel souvenirs; on the wall, photographs of the children. Patrik went over to a big, framed wedding picture hanging over the sofa. It was not a traditional, formal portrait. Magnus, wearing a morning coat, was lying on his side in the grass with his head propped on his hand. Cia stood behind him, wearing a frilly wedding dress. She had a big smile on her face, and one foot was planted solidly on top of Magnus.

‘Our parents just about died of fright when they saw that wedding picture,’ said Cia, and Patrik turned around to look at her.

‘It’s certainly rather… different.’ He glanced again at the photo. He’d met Magnus a few times since he’d moved to Fjällbacka, but had never exchanged more than the usual polite words of greeting with him. Now, as he stood here looking at the man’s open and happy expression, Patrik knew at once that he would have liked Magnus.

‘Is it okay if I go upstairs?’ asked Patrik. Cia nodded from where she stood in the doorway.

The wall of the stairwell was also covered with photographs, and Patrik paused to study them. They bore witness to a rich life that was focused on family and the ordinary joys. And it was obvious that Magnus Kjellner had been tremendously proud of his children. One picture, in particular, made Patrik’s stomach knot up. A holiday photo, showing a smiling Magnus standing between Elin and Ludvig, with his arms around both of them. His face was aglow with such happiness that Patrik couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. He turned away and continued up the stairs.

The first two rooms belonged to the kids. Ludvig’s was surprisingly neat, without any clothes tossed on the floor. The bed was made, and the pen holder and everything else on the desk had been meticulously arranged. The boy was clearly a big sports fan. Pinned up over the bed in the place of honour was a football jersey from the Swedish national team, autographed by Zlatan. Otherwise, photos of the IFK team from Göteborg dominated.

‘Ludvig and Magnus used to go to the games as often as they could.’

Patrik gave a start. Once again Cia’s voice had caught him by surprise. She seemed able to walk about without making a sound, because he hadn’t heard her come up the stairs.

‘Quite a tidy young boy.’

‘Yes, just like his father. Magnus did most of the picking up and cleaning here at home. I’m the messier one. If you have a look in the next room, you’ll see which of our children takes after me.’

Patrik opened the door to the next bedroom, in spite of the warning posted in big letters: KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING!

‘Yikes!’ said Patrik, taking a step back.

‘Yes, that’s the right word for it,’ sighed Cia, crossing her arms so as to stop herself from trying to clean up the mess. Because Elin’s room was indescribably messy. And pink.

‘I thought she’d grow out of her pink phase sooner or later, but instead it just seems to have escalated. Now it ranges from pale princess pink to a shocking neon.’

Patrik blinked his eyes. Was this how Maja’s room was going to look in a few years? And what if the twins turned out to be girls? He was going to drown in pink.

‘I’ve given up. I just ask that she keep the door closed so I don’t have to look at the chaos. I do a “sniff check” once in a while, to make sure that it doesn’t begin to smell like dead bodies in here.’ She was obviously startled by her own choice of words, but she kept on going. ‘Magnus couldn’t stand knowing what a mess things were in, but I persuaded him to leave her be. I was the same way as a kid, so I knew it would just lead to nothing but nagging and quarrels. In my case, I got neater as soon as I had my own flat, and I think the same thing will happen with Elin.’ She closed the door and pointed to the room at the end of the hall.

‘That’s our bedroom. I haven’t touched any of Magnus’s things.’

The first thing that Patrik noticed was that they had the same bed linen as he and Erica did. Blue-and-white check, bought at IKEA. Somehow that made him very uncomfortable. It made him feel vulnerable.

‘Magnus sleeps on the side next to the window.’

Patrik went over to his side of the bed. He would have preferred to look things over alone, in peace and quiet. Instead, it felt as if he were snooping around in things that were not his concern, and the feeling grew worse the longer Cia stood in the room staring at him. He had no idea what he was looking for. He just felt he needed to get closer to Magnus Kjellner, to see him as a real person, as flesh and blood, not merely a photograph on the wall in the police station. Patrik could still feel Cia’s eyes on his back, and finally he turned around to face her.

‘I hope you won’t be offended, but would you mind leaving while I have a look around?’ He sincerely hoped that she would understand.

‘I’m sorry. Of course,’ she said, smiling apologetically. ‘I realize it must be difficult to have me looking over your shoulder. I’ll go downstairs and take care of a few things, so you’ll have the place to yourself.’

‘Thanks,’ said Patrik. As soon as she left, he sat down on the edge of the bed and started with the bedside table. A pair of glasses, a stack of papers that turned out to be a copy of the manuscript of The Mermaid , an empty water glass, and a blister pack of paracetamol. That was all. Patrik pulled out the drawer and carefully studied what he found inside. Nothing of real interest. A paperback copy of Åsa Larsson’s detective novel Sun Storm , a little box containing ear plugs, and a package of cough drops.

Patrik got up and went over to the wardrobes that lined one entire wall of the bedroom. He laughed when he slid open the doors and instantly saw a clear example of what Cia had said about how her attitude towards neatness differed from that of her husband. The half of the wardrobe next to the window was a miracle of organization. Everything was carefully folded and arranged in wire baskets: socks, underwear, ties and belts. Above hung neatly pressed shirts and jackets along with polo shirts and T-shirts. T-shirts on hangers – the mere thought boggled Patrik’s mind. The most he ever did was to stuff his T-shirts into a drawer, only to curse the fact that they ended up looking so wrinkled when he put them on.

In that sense, Cia’s half of the wardrobe was more like his own method. Everything was haphazardly jumbled together, as if someone had simply opened the door and tossed everything inside before quickly shutting it again.

He closed the sliding doors and turned to look at the bed. There was something so heartbreaking and sad about a bed that had obviously only been slept in on one side. He wondered if anyone ever got used to sleeping in a double bed that was half empty. The thought of sleeping alone without Erica seemed impossible to him.

When Patrik went back down to the kitchen, Cia was putting away the plates they had used. She gave him an inquisitive look, and he said in a friendly tone of voice:

‘Thanks for letting me take a look around. I don’t know whether it will make any difference, but at least now I feel as if I know a little more about Magnus and who he was… is.’

‘That does make a difference. To me, anyway.’

Patrik said goodbye and left. He paused on the porch to look at the withered Christmas wreath hanging on the front door. After a moment’s hesitation, he lifted it off. Considering what an orderly person Magnus was, he probably wouldn’t have wanted to see that old wreath still there.