Helene Tursten - The Glass Devil

THE THREE officers found a pizzeria right across from Konsum. The inspectors had their choice of the four tables inside, since most of the other customers appeared to want to take their pizzas out. They chose a table as far away from the counter as they could get, not because they were afraid the pizza maker would be able to overhear their conversation but so that they would be able to have one at all. The employees had a flower-covered boom box behind the counter which was pounding out Turkish pop songs at the highest volume.

They were hungry and ate their pizzas in utter silence. The volume of customers had slowed after lunchtime, but the tape player’s volume remained unchanged.

Irene leaned forward over the small table, making sure she didn’t put her elbows in the leftovers. Tommy and Fredrik also leaned forward to hear what she had to say.

“The picture I’ve gotten of the victims is pretty clear. Sten Schyttelius was a happy, extroverted, sociable person. Like his son, he was interested in hunting. He took care of the family during Elsa Schyttelius’s periods of depression. He was authoritarian and old-fashioned as a boss and had a biased view of women. But since he was going to retire before the summer, he got away with it. By the way, Bengt Måårdh said that he and Urban Berg had applied for Sten’s position. And Bengt ‘mentioned’ that Urban has a drinking problem; he has been arrested for drunk driving twice.”

Tommy smiled broadly. “What petty gossipers! Urban Berg told me that Bengt Måårdh is a notorious womanizer. According to Urban, he can’t leave any woman alone.”

“And according to Måårdh,” Irene continued, “there are suspicions that Jonas Burman is gay. Sten Schyttelius would never have tolerated that, because he was against allowing homosexuals into the church community. Oh, and Jonas Burman is a member of the synod.”

“Don’t you mean the sewing circle?” Fredrik laughed.

“It’s obvious that you don’t know what it is either. I asked. According to Bengt Måårdh, it’s an association of pastors who are more religious than others. ‘Orthodox,’ I think he said. Mainly, they’re against women pastors.”

“Yuck, what beasts!” Tommy said and rolled his eyes.

“Since when did you become a feminist? Elsa Schyttelius seemed to just be a small gray shadow trailing after her husband because of her depression. I’d like to know what Hannu found out about the Schytteliuses and if there are any living relatives we can speak with.”

“On the topic of relatives, Jacob appears to have been a nice guy but no one knew him very well. He spent most of his time with his parents since he returned to Göteborg after his divorce. Wouldn’t one want to go out and have some fun if he was suddenly free again?” Fredrik the bachelor asked.

“Maybe that’s what he did. But before he got divorced,” Irene said dryly.

“Possible. We should speak with his ex-wife,” said Tommy.

“And Rebecka,” Irene added.

“Exactly. But that may not be very easy. We don’t dare ask her to come here and if she does come, she’ll need to be given protection,” Tommy said seriously.

His colleagues nodded. Irene continued, “I asked Louise Måårdh about the rumor that Rebecka has a boyfriend in London who visited Kullahult with her last summer. According to Louise, it was only a rumor. Neither she nor anyone else saw the guy. Someone supposedly said that Rebecka had shown up at the rectory with him, but no one has been able to confirm it. And Rebecka didn’t have anyone with her when she came home for Christmas last year.”

“Someone really needs to speak with her. Maybe she knows something, consciously or unconsciously, that will provide a clue to the motive for the murders,” Tommy said.

“Based on the pentagrams and the upside-down cross, the motive is Satanic. About a month ago, the deaconess heard Sten Schyttelius say he was chasing Satanists on the Web, but that it might be dangerous,” said Irene.

“Dangerous? Well, maybe. A computer always leaves electronic traces. A few years ago, you couldn’t follow them, but now you can,” said Fredrik.

“Is it easy?” Irene asked.

“I don’t think so. But some specialists and hackers know how to do it.”

They contemplated the situation. Irene said, “Strange. Only the deaconess heard the rector mention Satanists, and that only by chance. The others said that Sten Schyttelius had only spoken of the Satanists right after the fire last year, but not since.”

“I spoke with that cantor, Eva. She described Sten Schyttelius as a man with hidden depths. When she said that, could she have meant that he was conducting a secret investigation?” Tommy speculated.

Neither of the other two had a better guess.

“Maybe we should go back to the rectory before we leave. The technicians are probably done now,” said Irene.

They went out to the car.

“I WANT to go into the library on the first floor first,” said Irene.

They entered the large room lined with full bookshelves. The smell of dust and musty old books was intense; Fredrik sneezed. Irene stood for a moment, thinking. Finally, she was certain. Out loud, she said, “This doesn’t feel like a room someone has worked in recently. This is a museum. Sten Schyttelius used the office upstairs.”

They went up to the second floor. Svante Malm emerged from the bedroom. “Can you wait ten minutes?” he asked.

“No problem,” Tommy answered.

The billiard room was untouched. Irene unconsciously bent when she passed the stuffed animal heads. She thought that they looked at her accusingly with their eyes of glass.

Fredrik stopped at the well-filled bar cart and whistled. “Wasn’t it that guy Urban who has a drinking problem?” He grinned.

“If that cart had belonged to Urban, the bottles would probably be bare, if what Bengt Måårdh intimated is true,” Irene replied.

They entered the office. The desk was bare. The computer had been removed, leaving its outline in the dust on the desktop. The doors to the gun cabinet were wide open, and Irene could see that while it was now empty, there was room for six rifles.

“Was the cabinet full?” she asked.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to ask Svante,” said Tommy, and he left the room.

There were some books and bibles and piles of papers called “Our Church” and “News from Kullahult’s Church Association,” paper, stamps, a hole punch and other office materials on shelves, and a box marked “Sweden’s Ecumenical Children’s Villages.” Irene started flipping through the papers but was interrupted by Tommy’s return.

“They found five rifles and a lot of ammunition in the cabinet and took everything to the lab. The cabinet originally held six rifles, including the murder weapon. The interesting thing is that the cabinet was unlocked when the technicians found it and the key was in the lock. Just like the front door,” he said.

“Weren’t the guns broken down?” Irene asked.

“No. It’s not necessary if weapons are stored in an approved gun cabinet, and this one was, aside from the fact that it was left unlocked.”

“The murderer seems to have known where all of the keys were,” Irene thought out loud.

“Or the Schyttelius family kept their keys in places that were too obvious. Remember the key under the plant at the summer cottage,” Tommy reminded her.

Irene nodded and continued to flip through the contents of the box that contained informational brochures about the different villages. The children were orphans and received room and board and schooling at the villages, as well as a hefty dose of old-time Swedish religious education, Irene thought, examining a picture of a group of dark-skinned children with bowed heads and folded hands in front of an altar. The young, blond pastor stood with one hand held in a gesture of blessing. His gaze was directed at a point above the children’s heads. The text under the picture read: “The children are inquisitive and gratefully accept God’s word.”