Buried Angels (3 page)

Östen pointed to the front hall. On the other side of the threshold the floor was scorched in a strange, irregular pattern.

‘Must have been some sort of flammable liquid, don’t you think?’ said Martin, peering at it.

Östen nodded.

‘I’d say somebody poured the liquid under the door and then ignited it. Judging by the smell, I reckon it was petrol, but I’m sure Torbjörn and his boys will be able to tell us for sure.’

‘Where are the people who live here?’

‘They’re sitting out back, waiting for the medics, who unfortunately have been delayed because of a traffic accident. They both seem to be suffering from shock, and I thought they could use some peace and quiet. I also thought it would be best if we didn’t let them tramp about inside the house before you had a chance to secure any evidence.’

‘Good thinking.’ Patrik patted Östen on the shoulder and then said to Martin. ‘Shall we go and have a talk with them?’

Without waiting for a reply he headed towards the back of the house. As they turned the corner they spotted a few pieces of patio furniture a short distance away. The chairs and table were shabby, as if they’d been subjected to years of all kinds of weather. Sitting at the table were a man and a woman, both in their mid-thirties, looking lost. When the man caught sight of Patrik and Martin, he stood up and came to greet them, holding out his hand, which was hard and callused, as if accustomed to working with tools.

‘Tobias Stark.’

Patrik and Martin introduced themselves.

‘We don’t understand what happened. The firemen said something about arson. Could that be right?’ said Tobias’s wife, who had come over to stand next to her husband. She was slender and petite. Even though Patrik was only of average height, she barely reached to his shoulder. She seemed delicate and fragile, and she was shivering in spite of the heat.

‘That’s not necessarily true. We don’t yet know anything for certain,’ said Patrik, wanting to reassure them.

‘This is my wife Ebba,’ Tobias told them. Then he wearily rubbed a hand over his face.

‘Why don’t we sit down?’ said Martin. ‘We’d like to hear a little more about what happened.’

‘Sure, we can sit over there,’ said Tobias, pointing to the patio furniture.

‘Who discovered the fire?’ asked Patrik when they were seated. He was studying Tobias, who had a dark patch on his forehead. Like Östen, his hands were black with soot.

Noticing the direction of Patrik’s gaze, Tobias glanced down at his hands. It appeared he hadn’t realized until now how dirty they were. He spent a few moments wiping his palms on his jeans before he answered the question.

‘I did. I woke up and noticed a strange smell. As soon as I realized that there was a fire downstairs, I tried to wake Ebba. It took a few minutes because she was sound asleep, but finally I managed to get her out of bed. Then I ran to get the fire extinguisher. There was only one thought in my mind: to put out the fire.’ Tobias spoke so fast that he was out of breath, and he had to pause for a moment.

‘I thought I was going to die. I was absolutely convinced of it,’ said Ebba, picking at a cuticle. Patrik gave her a sympathetic look.

‘I took the fire extinguisher and sprayed it like crazy at the flames in the front hall,’ Tobias went on. ‘At first nothing happened, but I kept on spraying, and all of a sudden the flames went out. But there was still a lot of smoke. There was smoke everywhere.’ Again he had to stop to catch his breath.

‘Why would anyone … I don’t understand,’ said Ebba vaguely, and Patrik suspected that Östen was right: she was in a state of shock. That would also explain why she was shivering as if she were freezing. When the medics arrived, they were going to have to pay special attention to Ebba and also make sure that neither she nor Tobias was suffering from smoke inhalation. Many people didn’t realize that smoke could be deadlier than the actual fire. Drawing smoke deep into the lungs could have consequences that didn’t show up until later.

‘Why do they think the fire was deliberately set?’ asked Tobias, rubbing his face again. Patrik assumed that the man hadn’t had much sleep.

‘As I said, we don’t know anything for sure at the moment,’ he replied evasively. ‘But there are certain indications. I don’t want to say more until the technical experts have been able to confirm our suspicions. Did either of you hear any noises in the night?’

‘No. As I mentioned, I didn’t wake up until the fire was already burning.’

Patrik nodded towards a house a short distance away. ‘Are the neighbours at home? Would they have noticed if there were any strangers about?’

‘They’re on holiday. We’re the only ones on this part of the island.’

‘Is there anybody who might want to do you harm?’ Martin chipped in. He often let Patrik take charge of the questioning, but he always listened attentively and watched the reactions of the people they were interviewing. And that was just as important as asking the questions.

‘No. Not as far as I know.’ Ebba shook her head.

‘We haven’t lived here long. Only two months,’ said Tobias. ‘This house belonged to Ebba’s parents, but it was rented out for years, and she hasn’t been back until now. We decided to fix up the place and make something of it.’

Patrik and Martin exchanged a quick glance. The story of this house and Ebba’s family was well known in the area, but this was not the right moment to bring it up. Patrik was glad Erica hadn’t come with him. She wouldn’t have been able to restrain herself.

‘Where did you live before?’ asked Patrik, even though he could make a good guess, based on Tobias’s distinctive accent.

‘Göteborg, born and bred,’ said Tobias.

‘And no old quarrels to settle with anyone back there?’

‘We’ve never quarrelled with anyone in Göteborg – or anywhere else, for that matter,’ said Tobias curtly.

‘So what made you decide to move here?’ asked Patrik.

Ebba stared at the table as she fingered the pendant that hung on a chain around her neck. A lovely little angel made of silver.

‘Our son died,’ she said, tugging so hard on the angel that the chain bit into her neck.

‘We needed a change of scene,’ said Tobias. ‘This house had been allowed to fall into disrepair, and nobody cared about it any more. We saw it as a chance for us to start over. I come from a family of innkeepers, so it seemed the natural choice to set up in business, open a bed-and-breakfast. In time, we hope to get conference-goers to stay here.’

‘Looks like you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you,’ said Patrik, staring at the big house with the peeling paint. He purposely chose not to ask about their deceased son. The pain on their faces was too obvious.

‘We’re not afraid of working hard. And we’ll keep at it as long as we can. If we run out of steam, we can always hire some help, but we need to save money. It’s going to be tough to make a go of it financially.’

‘So you can’t think of anyone who might want to hurt you or your business?’ Martin persisted.

‘Business? What business?’ said Tobias with a sarcastic laugh. ‘But no. As I already told you, we can’t think of a single person who would do something like this to us. That’s not the kind of life we lead. We’re just ordinary folk.’

Patrik thought for a moment about Ebba’s background. Not many ordinary folk had that sort of tragic mystery in their past. Fjällbacka was rife with wild rumours about what had happened to Ebba’s family.

‘Unless …’ Tobias cast an inquisitive glance at Ebba, who didn’t seem to understand what he was hinting at. With his eyes fixed on her, he said, ‘The only thing that comes to mind is the birthday card.’

‘Birthday card?’ said Martin.

‘Ever since she was little, on every birthday Ebba has received a card from someone who simply signs the card “G”. Her adoptive parents never found out who was sending those cards. And the cards kept on arriving, even after Ebba moved away from home.’

‘And Ebba has no idea who they’re from?’ asked Patrik before he realized that he was speaking as if she wasn’t present. He turned to her and repeated the question. ‘You have no idea who has been sending these cards to you?’

‘No.’

‘What about your adoptive parents? Are you sure they don’t know anything?’

‘They haven’t a clue.’

‘Has this “G” ever tried to get in touch with you in any other way? Or threatened you?’

‘No, never. Nothing like that, right, Ebba?’ Tobias reached out as if to touch his wife, but then he let his hand drop back on his lap.

She shook her head.

‘Torbjörn is here,’ said Martin, gesturing towards the path.

‘Good. In that case we’ll stop now and let the two of you rest. The medics are on the way, and if they feel you ought to go to the hospital, I think you should do that. These kinds of things need to be taken seriously.’

‘Thanks,’ said Tobias, standing up. ‘Let us know if you find out anything.’

‘We’ll do that.’ Patrik cast another worried glance at Ebba. She still seemed to be enveloped in a bubble. He wondered how the tragedy of her childhood had shaped her, but then he pushed that thought aside. Right now he needed to focus on the job at hand. And that meant determining whether they were dealing with an arsonist.

Dagmar still didn’t understand how it could have happened. Everything had been taken from her, and she was utterly alone. No matter where she went, people whispered ugly words behind her back. They hated her because of what her mother had done.

Sometimes at night she missed her mother and father so much that she had to bite the pillow to stop herself sobbing aloud. Because if she did that, the horrid witch she lived with would beat her black and blue. But she couldn’t always hold back her screams when the nightmares got so bad that she woke up drenched in sweat. In her dreams she saw the chopped-off heads of her mother and father. Because in the end both of them had been beheaded. Dagmar had not been present to see it happen, but the image had been burned into her mind.

And sometimes images of the children also hounded her dreams. The police had found the bodies of eight infants when they dug up the earthen floor in the cellar. That was what the witch had said. ‘Eight poor little children,’ she said, shaking her head, whenever anyone came to visit. Her friends would then turn to glare at Dagmar. ‘The girl must have known about it,’ they said. ‘Even as young as she is, surely she must have realized what they were doing, don’t you think?’

Dagmar refused to be cowed. It didn’t matter whether that was true or not. Mamma and Pappa had loved her, and nobody wanted those dirty, squealing little kids. That was why they had wound up with her mother. For years she had worked so hard, yet the only thanks she ever received for taking in all those unwanted children was that people ended up demeaning her, jeering at her, and then they killed her. The same thing had happened to her father. He had helped Mamma bury those children and for that reason people said that he too deserved to die.

Dagmar had been sent to live with the witch after the police took her parents away. No one else was willing to have her, not the relatives or any friends. No one wanted anything to do with her family. The angelmaker from Fjällbacka – that was what people had started calling her mother the day those little skeletons were found. Now people even sang ballads about her. About the murderer who had drowned the children in a basin, and about her husband who had buried them in the cellar. Dagmar knew those songs by heart. Her foster mother’s snotty-nosed kids sang them to her whenever they got a chance.

None of this mattered to her, because she was still her parents’ little princess, and she knew that she had been both wanted and loved. The only thing that made her tremble with fear was the sound of her foster father’s footsteps approaching across the floor. At those moments Dagmar wished that she could have followed her mother and father into death.

Josef nervously ran his thumb over the stone that he was holding. This meeting was important, and he wasn’t about to allow Sebastian to ruin things.

‘Here it is.’ Sebastian pointed at the drawings that he’d placed on the conference table. ‘Here’s our vision. A project for peace in our time.’ He said the last phrase in English.

Josef sighed to himself. He wasn’t convinced that the local council representatives would be impressed with fancy phrases in English.

‘What my partner is trying to say is that this is an amazing opportunity for Tanum to do something for peace. An initiative that will bring the area a great deal of prestige.’

‘Sure, peace on earth is a good thing. And financially it’s not such a daft idea, either. In the long run, it should increase tourism and create new jobs for the people who live here, and you know what that means.’ Sebastian held up his hand and rubbed his fingers together. ‘More money for the whole area.’

‘Yes, but above all it’s an important peace project,’ said Josef, resisting the urge to give Sebastian a kick in the shins. He’d known this would happen when he accepted Sebastian’s money, but he’d had no choice.