Chapter 46
They had still been in the house when the search began, but there was no point in staying. He and Hanna were just in the way when Carina and her team were doing their job.
Each carrying a tray, they sit down at a table on the veranda with a view of Lake ?re.
Through the window Daniel can see three snow scooters whizzing across the ice, heading east. In spite of the distance he can see how warmly wrapped up the drivers are, in thick coveralls and with their scarves pulled up over their faces.
It must be ice cold, traveling at that speed in such a low temperature.
The trees outside are weighed down beneath a thick layer of rime frost, and the cold has drawn fine ice stars on the windowpanes.
And soon the sun will be going down.
He has barely taken his first bite when a middle-aged man approaches their table. He is wearing dungarees, and his woolen hat is pulled well down over his forehead. His face is weatherbeaten, as if he is used to spending time outdoors.
Daniel holds out his hand. “Hi—Staffan Berg?”
The man nods.
“Thanks for meeting us here—please take a seat.”
Daniel points to a chair, and Staffan Berg turns it around and straddles it, one leg on either side and his stomach resting on the back.
He looks at Hanna.
“You were in the paper this morning, weren’t you?”
Before Daniel can ask what he’s talking about, Staffan goes on.
“I presume you’ve been at Nedre Svedjev?gen. Tragic, the death of that girl.” He lowers his voice as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear what he is saying. “Do you know what happened, why she died?”
“We can’t comment on that at the moment,” Hanna replies, putting down her knife and fork with such force that tomato sauce spatters the table.
“So you look after the property for the Lowengren family,” Daniel says, attempting to steer the conversation along the right lines.
“I do.” Staffan’s smile is somehow . . .
eager. “I keep an eye on the place, clear the snow from the drive, that kind of thing. You could call me a fixer—I make sure there are no problems with the water supply. I run the taps and flush the toilets, open the blinds when the family are due to arrive, fill up the freezer, and so on.”
“So you have a lot to do?”
“I’m very busy at this time of year. In the late spring and summer, it’s quieter.”
“I understand.” Daniel decides to get to the point. “I believe you called in at the house on Saturday.”
“That’s correct.”
“Could you tell us about your visit? What was your impression of the group of friends when you met them?”
Staffan spreads his hands wide. “What can I say . . .”
He glances toward the comfortable seating area at the other end of the room. A couple of fabric Christmas elves are still perched on the coffee table, and a guy in a ski suit is sitting in an armchair with a hot drink.
“Everything seemed okay,” he says eventually. “They were having dinner. The table was nicely set, and the food smelled pretty good.”
“What was the atmosphere like?”
“They seemed to be having a pleasant evening. Everyone looked as if they were enjoying themselves, as far as I could tell.” He pulls off his hat and stuffs it in his pocket.
His expression grows serious. “It was a real shock when I heard that one of them had died during the night. It’s terrible when a young person is taken too soon. ”
“You didn’t get the feeling that something was in the air when you were there?” Daniel wonders. “A sense that something was wrong?”
“Not at all. They all said hello; they were very pleasant. There did seem to be plenty of booze around. There were several bottles of wine open on the table, and I noticed a case of beer and some bottles of spirits on the kitchen counter.”
He gives a wry smile, as if he is speaking from his own experience. According to the electoral register, he has two children in their late teens, a boy and a girl.
“They like to party at that age,” he adds. “You know what it’s like at this time of year—?re is full of students who’ve come here to have a good time.”
Daniel knows exactly what he means. The second half of January is actually known as the student weeks.
All the prices drop after Christmas. There are few people on the slopes, and it’s easy to find cheap accommodation.
In addition, hordes of Norwegian teenagers turn up to celebrate their upcoming final exams.
It’s tradition.
Hanna is staring down at her plate; she has barely said a word to Staffan Berg since he arrived. Daniel tries to catch her eye, but in vain.
“So how long were you there?”
“Not long, only a few minutes—ten at the most. I was in the area anyway, and just wanted to call by and say hi. William’s father had asked me to check on them once they’d settled in.”
William’s father.
Apparently he has called Birgitta Grip from New York to express his displeasure at the situation. He has made his opinion of the police’s attitude very clear—he doesn’t see why they are insisting that the group stay on in ?re for the next few days until the forensic examination has been completed.
Daniel is glad to have been spared that conversation.
Angry parents always require extra energy.
Spending time trying to calm down William’s father, when he has already decided that the police are incompetent, is something he is happy to leave to Grip.
There are more important matters to deal with right now.
Staffan glances at his watch.
“I really need to go,” he says apologetically. “I have a lot of properties to take care of while the owners are away. I’m due to let a plumber into a house on Bjornhyllan shortly.”
Daniel nods. “One last question. As you look after the house, I assume you have keys to the Lowengrens’ place?”
Berg stands up and puts the chair back where it belongs. His smile is smooth, almost feline. “They have a keypad with a code, but yes. I have to be able to get in even if no one is there.”