Åke Edwardson - Sun and Shadow

There was somebody else behind the counter, somebody he hadn’t seen before. He didn’t say anything when he paid for the videos. Now he was crossing the street. He looked at the tall buildings that looked like a row of huge building blocks.

Later this evening he would drive past the tall buildings in the center of town.

One morning he’d been waiting outside and watched her get onto the tram. He’d followed behind, although he knew where she was going. Nevertheless, he wanted to see her get off the tram and then disappear among all the thousands of others who were going in and out of the hospital doors.

Winter turned off the main road. He drove past the seven-story buildings on the right, turned into the parking area, and found a place directly opposite the huge apartment buildings marked with a housing association sign.

They seemed to be in good condition. The entrance had a sort of superstructure, and stone paving slabs on the floor.

Bengt Martell answered the intercom and Winter was let in. The entrance hall was attractive, painted in soft pastel colors not yet disfigured by graffiti. Perhaps there weren’t any young people here. Winter hadn’t seen a soul outside.

The man opened the apartment door. There was a smell of coffee in the hall. The sun shone right through the apartment, which presumably had windows facing in different directions. The man was a little shorter than Winter, about the same age, dressed in gray trousers and a cardigan that might have been green. He held out his hand.

“Martell.”

“Winter.”

“My wife’s popped out to get something for us to eat with the coffee.”

He showed Winter into the apartment. Through the window Winter could see the hill and the streets down below. Several clouds had appeared during the few minutes since he’d entered the building and taken the elevator.

“Please sit down,” Martell said. He blew his nose. That was the second time. He didn’t sound as though it was necessary. Perhaps he needed to do something with his hands. The apartment didn’t smell of smoke. He ought to do something else with his hands, thought Winter.

The door opened in the hall.

“It’s my wife,” said Martell, as if he were keen to reassure his guest.

A woman came into the room. She was tall, possibly as tall as her husband. Her hair was cut short and she seemed to have a tan. She was wearing a long, brown skirt and a tight-fitting polo shirt. She had a paper bag in her right hand, but transferred it to her left and shook hands with Winter before going into the kitchen, which Winter could see into through the half-open door.

“Well,” said the man, who had stood up when his wife arrived but had now sat down again. “What a terrible business.”

Winter nodded, and sat down as well. The woman returned carrying a tray with coffee cups, a pot, and some Danish pastries. She set out the cups and asked Winter if he wanted milk or cream in his coffee. He told her neither, and waited while she filled his cup. The man blew his nose again. The woman raised her cup and her hand was shaking. She took hold of it with both hands and put it down again, without drinking.

“When did you last see the Valkers?” Winter asked.

The Martells looked at each other.

“Didn’t we tell the other officers who were here?” Bengt Martell said.

Winter looked down at the notebook that he’d taken out of his inside pocket.

“It wasn’t quite clear. I might have mixed up some of the information.”

“It was several months ago,” Siv Martell said. “They were here for… a cup of coffee.” She looked down at the table and the coffee things as if to confirm the truth of what she had just said.

“Two months ago.” Winter was reading from his notebook. “Is that right?”

“If that’s what we said, then no doubt it is,” Bengt Martell said. He looked at Winter. “Such things are not easy to recall precisely” He blew his nose again and then tried to find somewhere to put his handkerchief.

Uncomfortable, Winter thought. They seemed to be uncomfortable in their own home, Halders had said. Scared shitless, he’d also said. But they didn’t seem like that now. Under the surface, perhaps.

“We didn’t note it down in a diary or anything,” Siv Martell said. She had started her coffee now, a quick sip. “We rarely do.”

“But you’ve never been around to their place, is that right?” asked Winter.

“Never,” Bengt replied.

“Why not?”

He looked at his wife, who looked out the window.

“What do you mean? Why we never went to their place?” He looked at Winter again. “Does it matter?”

‘All facts are important to us,“ Winter said. ”Details. Things people notice.“ He leaned forward, picked up his cup and drank some of his coffee, which was getting lukewarm. ”We haven’t yet had the opportunity of talking to anybody who’s been to the Valkers’ place.“

He didn’t mention the Elfvegrens. Per and Erika.

‘Anyway, we haven’t.“

“It was never in the cards?”

“Er… you must understand that we didn’t know them all that well.” Bengt Martell leaned forward. “We only saw them once or twice.”

“But you phoned them.” Winter looked up. “You left a message on their answering machine.”

“Yes… That’s why the police know about us.”

“We were going to suggest a meal out,” Siv Martell said.

“I gather you first met at a restaurant.”

“Yes. A dance restaurant. I don’t know if we mentioned this before, when the other officers were here. It was at King Creole.”

“Do you often go there?”

. “Hardly ever,” Bengt Martell said.

So you met at a place you never go to, Winter thought, but even so you wanted to keep the acquaintance going.

“Did you ever meet them together with other people?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

‘At a party, or a gathering with several people present.“

“What do you mean by several? More than us four?”

“Yes.”

“Never.”

“You didn’t know any of the Valkers’ friends?”

“None at all.”

“You didn’t meet any of them at that dance restaurant?”

“No.”

“More coffee?” Siv Martell offered.

“No, thank you.” Winter checked his notebook again. He was getting nowhere with this pair. Was there any point in staying? Perhaps the Martells were lonely people who had a fleeting acquaintance with the Valkers that might have developed into something more.

They might be scared, but at the same time uninterested. It was as if they were doing their best not to think about the Valkers. They were polite but uncooperative. It could be some sort of delayed shock. Or it could be something else, something lurking in the background. A shared experience. An incident. Something.

“What actually happened?” asked Bengt Martell out of the blue. His wife stood up and went to the kitchen.

“I beg your pardon?”

“What actually happened to them?” Martell asked again. “To Christian and Louise. There’s been a lot about it in the press, but nothing about how… how they died.” He seemed to be listening to his wife, who was running water in the kitchen. “How did he do it?”

“I can’t tell you everything for legal reasons,” Winter said, “but I was just coming to that.” He flipped to another page in his notebook and asked some questions about music.

It was overcast when he left the building. There was a wind from the northwest. Winter shuddered, and felt a stab in his throat when he swallowed. A slight headache these last two days might be the sign of an infection coming on. He’d have to rely on his immune defenses. The headache was a sign that they were assembling to repel boarders. There’s a battle taking place inside your body, Angela had said.