Camilla Lackberg - Camilla Lackberg Crime Thrillers 1-3 - The Ice Princess, The Preacher, The Stonecutter

‘Do you want me to provide an alibi too?’ Erica asked.

‘I don’t think that will be necessary. But we would like you to tell us everything you saw when you were inside the house, the day you discovered her. You can leave your written accounts with Assistant Hedström.’

Everyone turned to look at Patrik, and he nodded in agreement. They began to get up.

‘A tragic event, this. Particularly in view of the child.’

They all turned their eyes to Mellberg.

‘The child?’ Quizzically, Birgit looked from Mellberg to Henrik and back.

‘Yes, she was in the third month of pregnancy according to the medical examiner. Surely this can’t have been a surprise to you, could it?’

Mellberg grinned and winked roguishly at Henrik. Patrik was utterly appalled by his boss’s tactless behaviour.

Henrik’s face slowly lost all colour until it looked like white marble. Birgit turned to stare at him in astonishment. Erica felt as if she were petrified.

‘Were you two going to have a child? Why didn’t you tell me? Oh, God.’

Birgit pressed her handkerchief to her mouth and sobbed uncontrollably, without a thought for the mascara that now ran in rivulets down her cheeks. Henrik again put a protective arm around her, but over Birgit’s head he met Patrik’s gaze. It was obvious that he hadn’t had a clue that Alexandra was pregnant. Judging by Erica’s hopeless expression, however, it was clear that she did know.

‘We’ll talk about this when we get home, Birgit,’ said Henrik. He turned to Patrik. ‘I’ll see to it that you receive written accounts about Friday evening. I suppose you’ll probably want to interview us in more detail once you have them.’

Patrik nodded affirmatively. He raised his eyebrows to give Erica a questioning look.

‘Henrik, I’ll be right there,’ she said. ‘I just have to speak with Patrik for a moment. We’re old friends.’

She lingered in the corridor as Henrik led Birgit out to the car.

‘Imagine running into you here. That was a surprise,’ said Patrik. He rocked nervously back and forth on his heels.

‘Yes, if I’d thought about it I would have remembered that you work here, of course.’

She was twisting the handle of her purse between her fingers and looking at him with her head cocked a little to one side. All her small gestures were so familiar to him.

‘It’s been a long time. I’m sorry I couldn’t come to the funeral. How are you coping, you and Anna?’

Despite her height she looked small all of a sudden, and he resisted the urge to caress her cheek.

‘We’re doing all right. Anna drove home right after the funeral, but I’ve been here a couple of weeks now, trying to clean up the house. It’s not easy.’

‘I heard that a woman in Fjällbacka had discovered the victim, but I had no idea it was you. That must have been horrible. The two of you were friends when you were kids, weren’t you?’

‘Yes. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to erase that sight from my mind. Well, I have to run now, they’re waiting for me in the car. Maybe we could get together sometime. I’m going to be here in Fjällbacka for a while yet.’

She was already on her way down the hall.

‘How about dinner, Saturday night?’ he said. ‘At my house, eight o’clock? I’m in the book.’

‘Sure, that sounds nice. See you at eight, then.’ She backed out through the door.

As soon as she was out of sight he did a little improvised dance in the corridor, to the great astonishment of his colleagues. But his joy was spoiled a bit when he realized how much work it would take to get his house in presentable shape. After Karin left him, he hadn’t really felt like dealing with the housework.

He and Erica had known each other since birth. Their mothers had been best friends since childhood and were as close as two sisters. Patrik and Erica played together a lot when they were small, and it was no exaggeration to say that Erica was his first love. In fact, he believed he was born in love with Erica. There had always been such a natural quality about his feelings for her. As far as Erica was concerned, she had merely taken his puppy-like admiration for granted. Not until she moved to Göteborg did he realize that it was time to put his dreams on the shelf. He had fallen in love with others since then, of course. And when he married Karin he was utterly convinced that they would grow old together, but Erica was always in the back of his mind. Sometimes months would pass without thinking about her; sometimes he thought about her several times a day.

The piles of paper had not been miraculously reduced while he was gone. With a deep sigh he sat down at his desk and picked up the page on top. The work was monotonous enough that he could ponder the menu for Saturday at the same time. Dessert, in any case, was already decided. Erica had always loved ice cream.

He awoke with a nasty taste in his mouth. It had been a real blow-out yesterday. His buddies had come over in the afternoon and together they had kept drinking until the small hours. A vague memory of the police stopping by at some point last night hovered just beyond his reach. He tried to sit up but the whole room spun around and he decided to stay where he was for a while.

His right hand was aching, and he raised it toward the ceiling to look at it. The knuckles were severely scraped and full of coagulated blood. Damn, there must have been a bit of a dust-up last night, that’s why the cops showed up. More and more of his memory began to return. It was the guys who had brought up the subject of the suicide. One of them had started talking a bunch of shit about Alex. ‘Upper-class bitch’, and ‘society cunt’ were words he had used about her. Anders had short-circuited, and after that he remembered only a red haze of rage as he started bashing the guy in a drunken fury. Sure, he had called her a few names himself when he was most furious at her betrayal. But that wasn’t the same thing. The others didn’t know her. He was the only one who had the right to judge her.

The telephone rang with a shrill sound. He tried to ignore it but decided it was less bothersome to get up and answer the phone than to let the noise keep slicing into his brain.

‘Yes, this is Anders.’ He was slurring his words.

‘Hi, it’s Mamma. How are you doing?’

‘I feel like shit.’ He slid down the wall to sit on the floor. ‘What the hell time is it?’

‘It’s almost four in the afternoon. Did I wake you?’

‘Nope.’ His head felt disproportionately large and kept threatening to fall down between his knees.

‘I was in town shopping earlier. There’s a lot of talk about something that I want you to know about. Are you listening?’

‘Yeah, damn it, I’m listening.’

‘Apparently Alex didn’t commit suicide. She was murdered. I just wanted you to know.’

Silence.

‘Anders, hello? Did you hear what I said?’

‘Yeah, sure, I heard you. What did you say? Was Alex … murdered?’

‘Yes, that’s what they’re saying in town, anyway. Apparently Birgit was down at Tanumshede police station and got the news today.’

‘Oh, shit. Look, Mamma, I’ve got a lot to do. We’ll talk later.’

‘Anders? Anders?’

He had already hung up.

With an enormous effort he showered and got dressed. After taking two Tylenols he felt more like a human being. The vodka bottle in the kitchen tried to tempt him, but he refused to give in. He had to be sober right now. Well, relatively sober, at least.

The phone rang again. He ignored it. Instead he took a phone book out of the cabinet in the hall and quickly found the number he was looking for. His hands were shaking as he punched in the number. It seemed to ring a hundred times.