Chapter 68
They sat in wicker chairs in one corner of the barn.
A flourishing plant sat on the table between them.
Vidar recognized it as elephant’s ear, one of the few plants he could name.
Next to the pot were magazines about carpentry and interior design, all cheerful, hopeful cover photos.
Vidar placed his black binder on top of them.
“I haven’t sat in a chair this comfortable in a while,” Vidar said.
“There’s no need to flatter me.”
“How did you come to be a carpenter?”
“It’s a long story. Or maybe not. The station in Oskarstrom closed in January of 2005, after a decision was handed down from Halmstad.
I’m sure you knew that. I had already quit by then, must have been, what, two years before that?
But right around the time it closed I ran into Gerd.
She was packing boxes at the station and asked if we could grab coffee.
Sure, okay, I said, but I was kind of reluctant. ”
“What did she want?”
“Just to visit. Nothing in particular.” Siri’s gaze darted, just for a second.
“I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, really, all I knew was I never wanted to work for the police again.
This was before I met my husband, before the kids.
Authority-style work in general—I didn’t really like it.
Gerd said I was good with my hands, she had noticed that somehow, don’t ask me why.
She suggested I try to take up some kind of craft.
Weave rugs or whatever. That’s actually how it started.
But I like a little noise too. Weaving was too quiet.
Cabinet-making and furniture restoration is a good fit. ”
Vidar felt the chair with one hand. Stable, hardy. As though time would only make it stronger.
“I imagine you charge good money.”
“Very good money. But I’m also really good at what I do.”
“I can imagine that too. Speaking of boxes…” Vidar knocked on his binder. “That stuff Gerd was packing up, I think I’ve unpacked it again. And unfortunately, Gerd isn’t around to talk to me.”
“So you want to ask me about them.”
Vidar couldn’t tell if this was a question or a statement. “What do you think happened?”
“When?”
“On the night Mikael Soderstrom was killed.”
A fragile silence. “What do you think?”
A good question. He’d been expecting it.
“It’s remarkable you two got as far as you did, given your limited resources. The way I see it, most of the evidence suggests you were right. Killian Persson was the killer.”
Siri crossed her legs and leaned back. Maybe she was wondering if this was his real opinion or just something he was saying to mollify her.
“Most of the evidence,” she repeated. “But not all of it.”
“That’s not unusual. In fact, my first question has to do with exactly that. Suspect deceased, it says somewhere in here. But even so, you didn’t close the case.”
Siri shook her head and looked at him, perhaps hesitating one last time. Then she began to think, fumbling way back in her memory.
“The prosecutor agreed to keep it open. Gerd and I both felt there was good reason to, partly on account of the landslide. I seem to recall some information came to light, something relevant to the sequence of events.”
“Like what?”
It wasn’t easy to remember. Vidar could see it on her face.
“The money, for instance. We only found it after the fact. And even though it strengthened our suspicions against Persson rather than pointing to a different perpetrator, we didn’t know if more information would turn up, new circumstantial evidence.
But there were other uncertainties too. There was… shit, I don’t remember.”
“I know this isn’t easy,” Vidar said gently. “But you know how it goes, I have to ask.”
“Well, take the phone call, are you aware of that? Placed from the party Mikael was at. Someone called, what was their name, the family with the teen daughter—right, the Grenbergs. The phone rang late at night, from the party. Maybe it’s just a random detail, but both Gerd and I felt that call was important. ”
“Why?”
“No one at the party admitted to making any phone calls.” The memories seemed to be slowly returning to Siri. “Neither the mother nor the daughter reported that they’d answered one. Someone was lying.”
“That was your conclusion, that someone was lying?”
“Can you think of any other explanation?”
Vidar smiled mildly and waited.
“The footprints in the snow around the car—we identified two sets, one from Killian Persson and one from Sander Eriksson—even though we were never able to prove they were theirs. But there was a third pair as well, from what we interpreted as a witness. And the money, the family who put their life savings in the kitchen bench. Persson took it, clearly. But why? And why didn’t he take it when he left?
” A pause. Siri leaned back in the wicker chair.
“You know, it was that kind of stuff that motivated us to keep the case open.”
“Did you get any answers? Some material was still being logged in the months following the landslide, but after that there’s less and less. By that summer, new information had dried up completely.”
“Other cases with better prospects for being solved had to come first. We weren’t making any progress. Shocking, isn’t it?”
“Not really.”
“Exactly.” Siri studied him. “So why did you come back?”
He realized he was going to have to respond, but he took his time, as if he had to formulate his answer in his own mind first. Maybe he really did need to.
“I had a thorny path through my career, too, you might say.”
“Yes, so I heard.”
“But I think in the end I realized I needed this. My life was worse when I wasn’t on the force.”
Siri seemed to find this answer satisfactory.
“Sander Eriksson,” Vidar said. “What was he like?”
She considered this.
“Smart. Really smart. Does he still live there?”
“Not in Skavboke, but he lives in Snostorp.”
“He was planning to go to Stockholm, as I recall. To the university. But sure, maybe it makes sense that he ended up staying. He’d just lost his best friend.”
“And you don’t think he had anything to do with the murder of Mikael Soderstrom? After all, if that shoeprint was his, that places him on the scene. Or with Killian’s death?”
She jiggled her foot while she thought.
“In Mikael’s case, I honestly don’t know. But Killian’s? No. He did seem to blame himself pretty harshly the few times I talked to him afterwards, though. I think something happened between them toward the end, but I don’t know what it was.”
“Is it true he got together with Felicia Grenberg? Someone mentioned that.”
“Oh, yes, right. He did. They even lived together for a year or two. Haven’t you talked to him?”
“Yes—last night, in fact.”
He rested a hand on the binder. At the back was his summary of the conversation with Sander.
“I can guess what you’ve got there, and I don’t want to see it. That wasn’t part of our agreement. You were going to leave once you’d asked your questions, and it seems like you’ve asked. And I answered.” She rose from her chair. “So if you are done, I have work to do.”
Vidar stood up as well, his chair creaking pleasantly. He held out the binder.
“I assumed it would be easier to drop this off rather than convince you to come pick it up. I’ll come back tomorrow, if we don’t talk in the meantime. You don’t have to take a look, but you’re welcome to do so and let me know what you think.”
She stared at the binder like it was a threat. Vidar set it down on her chair.
“Was it Skavboke that made you quit?” he asked without looking at her.
“No. I just couldn’t handle it anymore. It was time for something new.”
She said this so frankly and simply that at first glance it had to be true. But no. He didn’t think this was quite accurate. Vidar could tell there was more to it, but he feared it was buried too deep to uncover.
“Please go now,” she said. “My husband will be home with the kids in about an hour, and I need to get some work done.”