Mari Jungstedt - The Dead Of Summer

When they said goodbye to the harbour master, thoughts were whirling through Knutas’s head. Who was to say that drug deals weren’t taking place in connection with the boat transports? Was it possible that Peter Bovide was a drug addict? Maybe amphetamines. Was that the reason he could run ten kilometres or so each day, keep his company going, take care of his young children and get up early every morning? He’d suffered from regular bouts of depression and he was epileptic. That sort of thing could lead to drug abuse. It was also possible that he could have been dealing drugs without taking any himself. Did he owe some ugly customers money? The MO seemed to indicate this might be a possibility. The murder was committed with a Russian gun, and the victim was shot at very close range, which testified to a brutal ruthlessness. Maybe the perp was a professional hitman.

Yet there were two circumstances that didn’t fit the picture: the fact that the perp chose to shoot Bovide in the head first and then several times in the stomach; and the fact that the gun was so old. What hitman or hard-boiled drug lord would use a gun that was eighty years old?

Knutas couldn’t make the facts add up.

EMMA WAS LYING on the sofa in the living room, watching an action film on TV. It was supposed to be exciting, but she didn’t have the energy to get involved.

Images flickered past on the TV screen: a car chase, gunshots, men running after each other through a big crowd – classic scenes. But superimposed over everything she saw vestiges of herself and Johan, like damaged fragments of a dream that had never come true. Unwanted, troublesome thoughts hounded her, and she kept shifting around on the sofa cushions. It was impossible to find a comfortable position.

She was alone in the house, left to her own thoughts. Their fight the previous Sunday and the ensuing silence from Johan had truly shaken her. At first she was angry because he’d yelled at her, but then came the shame when she realized that he was right. Even though she was upset because he’d slept with another woman, she could partially understand why it had happened.

She pictured his face and how miserable he’d looked as he sat there on that bench. She had felt so awkward, just waiting there like an idiot until he stopped sobbing. Then he handed Elin back to her, got up and left. The distance between them was so obvious. What if he never wanted to let her in again? There was a risk that the door had now been shut for good.

When her parents offered to take care of Elin for a few days, Emma had gratefully accepted. She needed to be alone to think things through.

Again she asked herself what was actually preventing her from being with Johan. She had pushed him away for a very specific reason. How could she have done otherwise, when he had put their child’s life in jeopardy? But she hadn’t received any support for her actions – not from her parents or any of her friends. Everybody thought she was being too hard on him, even her ex-husband Olle. His attitude towards Johan had become significantly friendlier ever since he’d met Marianne, who was the new woman in his life. Many things in their relationship, previously so inflammatory, had now become easier, including their shared custody of the children, Sara and Filip. Right now the kids were spending two weeks with Olle and Marianne on Crete.

The kids liked Johan, and he, in turn, had clearly demonstrated his affection for them. His job was really no obstacle either; he could work as a freelancer from Gotland or find a job with one of the local newspapers or radio stations.

She sat up on the sofa and turned off the TV. Why was she so resistant to creating a future with Johan? Was she afraid of true love? Did she think, deep in her heart, that she didn’t deserve it?

All of a sudden she had a clear insight into what was going on. She was the one, not anyone else, who kept blocking their relationship, and if she didn’t stop soon, she was going to lose Johan for good.

She was suddenly in a big hurry. Now she knew what she had to do; she just hoped it wasn’t too late.

THE BOAT COULD be seen from a great distance away. A barge-like vessel was silhouetted against the horizon. It was eight p.m., and the sun, which was on its way down, had coloured the sky red. Johan and Pia were sitting on a hilltop, gazing out at the sea. They had brought along grilled chicken and several beers so it would look as if they were just an ordinary couple enjoying an evening picnic. They ate their food in silence. Pia had binoculars with her, and now and then she would raise them to her eyes.

‘Now it’s turning in this direction.’

Johan took the binoculars from her. He saw that she was right; the boat had changed course and was slowly turning towards land. Earlier, they had gone down to the harbour to reconnoitre. Everything had seemed very quiet, like the calm before a storm. Pia had made an appointment with her friend who worked at the harbour to meet them at nine o’clock. He was a longshoreman, and officially they were just friends who were getting together and at the same time planned to buy some booze from the boat. Pia’s friend, whose name was Viktor, had told them that a bunch of people always turned up on the dock whenever the boats arrived. So they could blend right in.

Johan gave only monosyllabic replies to Pia’s attempts to carry on a conversation. He was thinking about Emma, and he had no desire to chat.

‘What are you thinking about? You seem really far away,’ said Pia, opening the cool-box. ‘Would you like another beer?’

‘Sure. Thanks.’ He took a big gulp of the cold beer, then lit a cigarette.

‘You’ve really started smoking a lot. Why is that?’ Pia grabbed the pack and shook out a cigarette for herself.

‘You should talk, especially when you happen to use snuff too. But it’s the same old issue: Emma.’

‘I can’t understand why the two of you can’t get along. What do you think you’re doing, anyway? Even a blind chicken can see that you’re made for each other.’

‘Yes, but it’s so complicated.’

‘Well, don’t make it even worse. If you ask me, I think it’s just plain human for Emma to panic after that kidnapping episode, but what surprises me is that you fail to understand it.’

Johan sat up. ‘What do you mean? What is it I don’t understand?’

‘How tough it’s been for Emma, practically since the first day she met you. It seems perfectly reasonable that she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with you after the kidnapping; from her point of view, you were the one who put Elin in danger. But now she’s become stuck in that attitude, and so it’s just easier for her to shut you out completely. After everything else, her divorce, and then the fact that you can never seem to get your life together – I mean, you seem unable to decide whether to stay on the mainland or live on Gotland. And in the meantime, she’s here and has to take full responsibility and try to work things out with her other children, with Olle, and with you and Elin. How hard have you tried to understand her position? You act so damned empathetic and ethical when you’re on the job, always taking consideration of one thing or another, but how much compassion do you really have when it comes right down to it? When it has to do with your own personal life and the people who are closest to you?’

Pia ended her harangue by taking several big gulps of beer.

Johan had a perplexed expression on his face as he sat and stared at her.

‘Why haven’t you said any of this before?’

‘I’ve tried, in small doses, but you never pay any attention.’

Johan couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Pia’s mobile rang before he could collect himself.