Mari Jungstedt - The Dead Of Summer

He’d just managed to drive around the curve before the front of the delivery van appeared in his rearview mirror. When he had driven safely out of sight, he turned off the engine and rolled down the window to listen to what was happening. The van doors slammed, and he could hear voices speaking a foreign language. It sounded like Finnish, except softer. Maybe it was Estonian. A witness had seen a car with Estonian plates outside Vendela Bovide’s house. Had her attackers arrived? Knutas’s nerves were on high alert.

Cautiously, he opened the car door and got out. He kept to the edge of the woods as he made his way back and then stopped behind some trees and bushes where he had a good view.

Two young men came out of the house carrying something that looked like a washing machine. A third man was waiting next to the van and helped them load it inside. Then they went back into the house and returned with a full-size stainless-steel refrigerator. Good God , thought Knutas. They’re going to empty the house of all the appliances . Nervously, he fumbled in his pocket for his mobile and punched in Jacobsson’s number. He swore when he heard her voicemail start up. He tried Wittberg. The same result. What bad luck. Was everybody unavailable just because it was Sunday? The day of the week shouldn’t matter, since the whole investigative team was still supposed to be working. He punched in the number for the criminal division. Kihlgård answered in his usual hearty manner, although it was obvious that he was eating something and his mouth was full.

‘Kihlgård.’

‘Hi, it’s me, Knutas.’

‘Hi, Knutie.’

‘I’m out at one of the job sites that Peter Bovide’s company is working on. They’ve built a luxury home on Furillen, and right now there’s a gang out here taking away all the appliances.’

‘Why are you whispering?’

‘Because I’m standing only a few yards away.’

‘OK. Are you alone?’

‘Yes, unfortunately. And I don’t have my gun with me, so I don’t dare intervene.’

‘No, don’t do that, for God’s sake. Who exactly is out there?’

‘Three young guys with earrings and tattoos. I think they might be Finns, or possibly from the Baltics.’

‘Where did you say this house is?’

‘It’s on Furillen, right across from the old factory that’s now a hotel.’

‘Furillen – what sort of place is that?’

‘An island, damn it,’ Knutas hissed. ‘I’m not planning to draw you a road map. Talk to the others, but you’ve got to get out here, and be bloody quick about it.’

‘Sure. Stay where you are, and we’ll leave right away.’

‘Do that, but use unmarked cars and no sirens. And ring me when you’re driving across the bridge to the island. You have to wait for my go-ahead before you can drive past the hotel, because they’ll be able to see you from there. The building site is right across the road.’

‘OK. We’re leaving now. Did you say how many there are? And do you think they’re armed?’

‘Shit!’

‘What is it, Knutie?’

‘Someone’s coming. I’ll ring you later.’

Knutas cut Kihlgård off. One of the men was heading straight for his hiding place. With his heart in his mouth, Knutas waited to see if he was going to be discovered. The lanky man had a shaved head, and his bare chest was covered with tattoos. A knife was sticking out of the back pocket of his shorts.

Knutas kept his eyes tensely fixed on the young man. If he moved a muscle, his hiding place would be found.

He cast a glance at the others. They were still bringing things out of the house.

The next second, Knutas realized what was about to happen. The man reached inside his trousers, and was obviously about to take a piss, only a couple of yards away. Knutas bowed his head and stared at the ground, silently praying that he wouldn’t be seen.

Then his mobile rang.

EVEN THOUGH JOHAN had felt so awful about sleeping with Madeleine Haga, he had ended up in bed with her again. On Saturday night, the whole group had gone to Munkkällaren restaurant. There he had run into several other journalist colleagues who were on the island, and the evening had ended with a little post-party gathering at Johan’s one-bedroom flat. Madeleine stayed after the others had left. When he opened his eyes the next morning, he had felt even worse than the first time, if that was possible, and all he wanted to do was get out of his flat. He suggested having breakfast at a café on Stora Torget.

They drank lattes, ate croissants and read the morning papers. The conversation was halting and revolved around innocent topics such as the lack of fresh information and how they should go about following up on the story.

‘If nothing new happens today, I’ll be forced to go back home,’ said Madeleine with a sigh. ‘And just when I’m having such a good time here on Gotland.’

She gave Johan a coy look as she rubbed his shin with her sandal.

Johan didn’t know how to respond. He smiled awkwardly and pulled out his mobile to check to see if Knutas had tried to call. Johan had rung the superintendent several times during the weekend, but without result. Normally, Knutas called him back.

As Johan looked at the incoming calls on his mobile, he was surprised to see Emma’s number. She’d rung him at 3.14 in the morning. And someone had picked up, but it wasn’t him. He glanced at Madeleine, who was intently reading the paper. He noticed that she had croissant crumbs at the corner of her mouth.

‘Did you happen to answer my mobile?’

No reply. She kept on reading as if she hadn’t heard him.

‘Hey, Maddie.’ Johan leaned forward and raised his voice. ‘Did you happen to answer a call that came in on my mobile?’

She looked up.

‘What? Oh, right. It rang early this morning while you were in the shower. I forgot to mention it. You were so hot when you came out of the bathroom that I had other things on my mind.’

A crumb fell from her lips and landed in her coffee cup without her noticing.

‘Who was it?’

‘It was Emma. I’m sorry, Johan,’ she said politely. ‘I just forgot.’

‘What did she say?’

‘She wanted to talk to you. I told her that you were in the shower, and then she hung up.’

Johan jumped to his feet.

‘Why didn’t you say anything? It could have been important – maybe Elin’s sick, or something like that.’

‘You don’t have to get so upset,’ she said sullenly. ‘I can’t help it if she hung up on me.’

Without another word, Johan left the table. He was furious. What the hell was Emma going to think? The truth, of course. That he’d been to bed with another woman. He punched in Emma’s number as he stomped off towards Adelsgatan. At the same time, he glanced at his watch. It was eleven fifteen and the sun was shining. No answer on her mobile either. She was probably at the beach with Elin. They both loved going there. Suddenly he felt on the verge of tears. How could he have been such an idiot?

He quickly made up his mind and ran the whole way to the Swedish TV building. That’s where his car was parked.

He jumped in and drove away from Visby, taking the road out to Roma.

KNUTAS PRESSED HIS body against the wall of the house, straining to make sure that his panting wouldn’t be heard.

He’d flung his mobile as far away as possible when the tattooed man had been surprised by the ring tone. It was lucky for Knutas that the guy was already in the middle of taking a leak; that gave him a head start.

The man yelled to his companions, and the three of them immediately spread out to search the woods. Knutas, who was hiding behind a tree, decided the best thing to do would be to head back towards the house. He’d managed to sound the alarm, and his colleagues were on their way. It was just a matter of keeping out of sight until they arrived.