Chapter 75
Hanna opens her car door. “Shall we go in?”
A man in dungarees waves to them as they get out. This must be Leffe, the site supervisor who is going to show them around. He looks as if he’s close to retirement age; gray hair is peeping out from beneath his dark-blue cap, which is pulled well down over his ears.
“Are you from the police?” he calls out.
Hanna nods and Leffe points to a side door with a frosted pane of glass, about fifteen yards from what they had assumed was the entrance.
“We can go in this way. The main door isn’t used anymore, to keep the heat in.”
Leffe leads them into what was once the foyer, and presses a button to switch on the lights. They are standing in front of a wooden staircase with skillfully carved banisters and a dark-red carpet held in place by brass stair rods.
Hanna can almost see the guests from bygone days sweeping past in their beautiful clothes, delicate cocktail glasses in their hands.
“At least it looks better on the inside,” Daniel says quietly in her ear.
Leffe leads them into the dining room on the first floor, then up another staircase to what is known as the Loft.
He explains that dances were held here, to live music.
There is a podium at one end for the band.
In the opposite direction, up a few more steps, is the famous bar with its elegant black counter and tall cane-backed stools.
Small groups of chairs made of dark wood with distressed gilding are arranged to make the most of the fantastic view.
“This is where the guests would have their coffee and cognac after dinner,” Leffe tells them nostalgically.
Hanna stops dead in front of the window.
Unlike ?re, which is located on the side of a mountain, giving almost every building a view of the lake, this hotel has the sweeping panorama of the mountains as its focus.
The landscape is less steep, with sparse vegetation; it is the white mountain birch that catch the eye, extending all the way to the Norwegian border, which can just be seen to the west.
This is just on the tree line; only a short distance away, the bare mountains await.
“It’s very peaceful,” Daniel says, gesturing toward the view before them.
Hanna agrees. It is easy to let your eyes rest on the gentle slopes, to lose yourself in all the whiteness.
“Are these the old ceiling paintings that everyone seems to be so upset about?” Daniel asks. Like Hanna he has seen the Facebook posts where members express their anger at the fact that the fine works of art will not be preserved if the building is demolished.
Hanna takes a closer look. They really are striking, colorful and imaginative. The ceiling is covered with various animals—reindeer, moose, and dogs. There are also Viking longboats, and native Inuit and Sámi figures in traditional dress.
“They are,” Leffe confirms. “The whole lot will disappear if the plans go through.”
“Don’t you think some of the comments from the Facebook group have been unnecessarily aggressive?” Hanna wonders.
Leffe looks uncomfortable. He adjusts a barstool that isn’t quite straight and pushes it a couple of inches farther in.
“They exaggerate,” he says eventually. “But the hotel has stood for such a long time. It was built in the 1930s. The paintings have been here for generations.”
He looks up to where a vivid sunset adorns the ceiling above the bar. “Just because something is new, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s good,” he murmurs.
“Do you know anyone in the group?” Hanna asks. “I’ve read some of the comments, and they’re pretty graphic. The kind of thing that could be classed as making illegal threats.”
Her question makes Leffe shift his weight from one foot to the other. He pushes his hands deep in his pockets and refuses to meet her gaze.
“I might know the odd person who could be a member, but . . .”
“Are you a member?” Daniel asks.
Leffe shakes his head in a way that makes Hanna suspect he might well be responsible for some of the posts.
She looks up again. The works of art really do have a unique charm, embodying times gone by and Scandinavian history.
But that is not a reason to resort to violence and murder.