Camilla Läckberg - The Ice Princess

‘I can’t say that I’m surprised, actually. Well, now I must be going.’

‘I hope I was of some use, so you didn’t have to drive here for nothing.’

‘Not at all, I got exactly the information I wanted. And I got to taste your wife’s excellent pastries too.’

Eilert gave a reluctant snort. ‘Yes, she certainly can bake, I can say that for her.’ Then he sank into a silence that seemed to encompass fifty years of hardship.

Svea, who had undoubtedly been standing with her ear to the door, could stand it no longer and came into the room. ‘So-o-o, did you find out everything you needed?’

‘Yes, thank you. Your husband has been quite accommodating. And I’d like to thank you for the coffee and the excellent pastries.’

‘Think nothing of it. I’m glad you liked them. So Eilert, if you’ll start clearing the table I’ll show the constable to the door.’

Obediently Eilert began collecting the coffee cups and plates as Svea accompanied Patrik to the front door under a constant stream of words.

‘Close the door hard after you. I can’t stand a draught.’

Patrik heaved a sigh of relief when the door closed behind him. What a frightful woman. But he had got the confirmation he wanted. Now he was quite sure that he knew who had murdered Alex Wijkner.

At Anders’s funeral the weather was not as nice as for Alex’s burial. The wind tore at exposed skin and made everyone’s cheeks blossom with the cold. Patrik had dressed as warmly as he could, but it wasn’t enough against the relentless chill. He shivered as he stood by the open grave when the coffin was slowly lowered down. The ceremony itself had been short and dreary. Only a few people had come to the church, and Patrik had sat discreetly on the pew in the back. Only Vera was sitting up in front.

He had been dubious as to whether he should follow along to the burial site, but decided at the last second that it was the least he could do for Anders. Vera hadn’t changed expression the whole time he watched her, but he didn’t think her grief was any less for it. She was simply a person who didn’t like to show her feelings in public.

Patrik could understand and sympathize with that. In a way he admired her. She was such a strong woman.

After the burial ceremony was over, the few guests in attendance went their separate ways. With her head bowed, Vera walked slowly up the gravel path towards the church. The cold wind was whipping hard, and she had tied her scarf like a kerchief over her head. For a second Patrik hesitated. After an internal struggle that increased as the distance grew between him and Vera, he made up his mind and hurried to catch up with her.

‘Lovely ceremony.’

She smiled bitterly. ‘You know as well as I do that Anders’s funeral was just as pathetic as most of his life. But thanks anyway. It was nice of you to say so.’

Vera’s voice bore the mark of many years of fatigue. ‘I probably should be grateful, really. Not so many years ago he wouldn’t have even been allowed to be buried in the public churchyard. He would have been given a spot off to the side, outside church-sanctified ground, a spot specially reserved for suicides. There are still many of the older folks who think that suicides don’t go to heaven.’

She fell silent for a moment. Patrik waited for her to continue.

‘Will there be any legal consequences from what I did to cover up Anders’s suicide?’

‘No, I can guarantee that there will not. It was regrettable that you did what you did, and certainly there are laws about it, but no, I don’t think there will be any consequences.’

They passed the parish house and walked slowly in the direction of Vera’s home, which was only a couple of hundred yards from the church. Patrik had worried all night about how he should proceed, and he had reached a cruel but he hoped successful solution.

Nonchalantly, he said, ‘What I think is most tragic in this whole story with Anders’s and Alex’s death is that a child also had to die.’

Vera turned vehemently towards him. She stopped and grabbed hold of his sleeve.

‘What child? What are you talking about?’

Patrik felt thankful that, against all odds, a lid had been kept on that particular piece of information.

‘Alexandra’s child. She was pregnant when she was murdered. In her third month.’

‘Her husband…’

Vera stammered, but Patrik continued with forced coldness. ‘Her husband had nothing to do with it. They had clearly not had any relations in several years. No, the father seems to be someone she used to meet here in Fjällbacka.’

Vera was holding so hard onto his sleeve that her knuckles turned white.

‘Good Lord. Good, good Lord.’

‘Yes, it’s certainly cruel. To kill an unborn child. According to the autopsy report it was apparently a little boy.’

He was grimacing inside but forced himself not to say any more. Instead he waited for the reaction he was counting on.

They were standing under the big chestnut tree, fifty yards from Vera’s house. When she suddenly exploded in motion he was taken by surprise. She ran surprisingly fast for her age, and it took a couple of seconds for Patrik to recover from the shock and run after her. When he reached her house the front door was wide open and he cautiously stepped inside. Sobbing sounds were heard from the bathroom down the hall, and then he heard her violently throwing up.

It felt wrong to stand there in the hall and wait with cap in hand, listening to her vomiting, so he took off his wet shoes, hung up his coat, and went in to the kitchen. When Vera came out a few minutes later the coffee-maker was bubbling and there were two cups on the kitchen table. She was pale, and for the first time he saw tears. Only a hint, like a glitter in the corner of her eye, but it was enough. Vera sat down stiffly on one of the kitchen chairs.

In a few minutes she had aged many years, and she moved slowly, like a much older woman. Patrik let her have a few more minutes’ respite as he poured coffee for them both. But the moment he sat down he let her know with a stern look that the moment of truth had arrived. She knew that he knew, and there was no turning back.

‘So I murdered my grandson.’

Patrik took it as a rhetorical question and didn’t reply. If he did he’d be forced to lie. Once he’d come this far he couldn’t back up. In time she would find out the truth. But first it was his turn.

‘I knew it was you who murdered Alex when you lied about being there the week before she died. You said that you sat in her cold house freezing, but the furnace didn’t break down until the week after that, the week she died.’

Vera was staring into space, and it seemed that she didn’t even hear what Patrik had said.

‘It’s strange. It’s only now that I actually realize that I took another person’s life. Alexandra’s death was never very real to me, but Anders’s child…I can almost see him before me…’

‘Why did Alex have to die?’

Vera held up her hand. She would tell him everything, but at her own pace.

‘There would have been a scandal. Everyone would have pointed at him and talked about him. I did what I thought was right. I didn’t know that he would still be the object of everyone’s ridicule. That my silence would eat him away inside and strip him of everything of value. It was so simple. Karl-Erik came to me and told me what had happened. He had talked with Nelly before he came to me, and they had reached an agreement. Nothing good would come of having the whole town know about it. It would be our secret, and if I knew what was best for Anders, I would keep my mouth shut. So I shut up. I kept quiet for all those years. But each year robbed Anders of more than the one before. Each year he kept wasting away in his own private hell, and I chose not to see my role in it. I cleaned up after him and supported him as best I could, but the only thing I couldn’t do was to make what happened go away. Silence can never be taken back.’