Dark Angel (20 page)

‘What do you mean?’

‘Just what I said. I won’t be able to stand it.’

‘And what are you going to do about it?’

‘I have to do something. That much I know.’

‘What do you have to do?’

I see the nervous expression but choose not to answer.

THE FIRE OUT
in Holmhällar confirmed Knutas’s suspicions. The perpetrator they were looking for was after Veronika Hammar and no one else.

The entire investigative team was present at the morning meeting, and there was a charged atmosphere in the room when Knutas began.

‘At two fifteen this morning, a call came in, reporting that a cabin was on fire out near Holmhällar. It was a neighbour named Olof Persson who made the call. He has a farm a couple of kilometres away. He saw the glow of the fire in the sky and drove over to find the cabin completely engulfed in flames. One person was injured in the fire, and it was none other than Veronika Hammar, the very person we’ve been looking for. She was suffering from smoke inhalation and was taken to hospital. The reason we didn’t track her down at the cabin is that she’s not the owner. She merely uses the place, although apparently she’s been going there for more than thirty years.’

‘Has anyone interviewed her yet?’ asked Smittenberg.

‘Yes, but only briefly. She says that she was woken by the fire. By then the whole cabin was in flames. She could think of only one thing, and that was to get out, which she managed to do, and without suffering any burns. She breathed in a lot of smoke, but apparently she’ll be released from hospital later today.’

‘How is she doing?’ asked Wittberg.

‘She’s upset and in shock. She didn’t manage to save any of her belongings, and she lost a lot of possessions that had sentimental value for her.
She’s
also scared. She says that she saw someone on the property a few hours before the fire started.’

‘Someone who didn’t want to be seen?’

‘Exactly. The techs are out at the cabin now, although it’ll be a while before they’re able to make a more thorough search. But they’ve already phoned to say that they found a petrol can and some rags, so we have to assume that it was arson.’

‘Are there any witnesses?’ asked Smittenberg.

‘No, none so far, except for the farmer who called the police. And Veronika’s cabin was the only one in the area that was occupied, at least as far as we know.’

‘I’m going out there as soon as the meeting is over,’ said Erik Sohlman. ‘It’s quite a big piece of land. It might be possible to find evidence scattered around, if it hasn’t been destroyed by the firefighting efforts.’

For a moment no one spoke.

‘OK,’ Jacobsson said then as she looked at her colleagues seated around the table. ‘Shall we focus our efforts on the theory that Veronika Hammar is the sole intended victim? That Viktor Algård died by mistake?’

‘And we stop working on any aspects that only have connections with Algård, right?’ Wittberg added. ‘Including the assault at the club and the conference centre?’

‘Yes, at least for now,’ Knutas agreed. ‘We need to concentrate on finding the person who seems to have some motive for harming Veronika Hammar.’

‘What about the wife?’ asked Wittberg. ‘Elisabeth Algård. How should we deal with her?’

‘She’s still a person of interest, of course,’ Jacobsson replied. ‘She could very well be a prime suspect, trying to get rid of her rival.’

‘Sure,’ said Knutas. ‘Let’s bring her in for another interview, right after the meeting.’ He turned to Jacobsson. ‘Have you found out anything new about Veronika Hammar?’

‘Not really, although we already know quite a lot about her,’ said Jacobsson, leafing through her notes. ‘As we found out before, she’s been divorced for many years. Her ex-husband died in a car accident twenty
years
ago. They were already divorced by then. She has four grown children. Two of them live here on Gotland, and two of them live in Stockholm. She’s friends with one of her neighbours, and she has two sisters, one on Gotland and one in Stockholm, whom she sees once in a while. She has a few colleagues who are also personal friends.’

‘OK, we need to interview everyone in Veronika’s family and social circle. Including neighbours and artist friends. She probably belongs to some sort of art society or association. Also the people who live in the summer-house area in Holmhällar. We may find an important lead out there. I’m planning to go and see Sten Bergström. He lives right nearby, so I want to talk to him again. As far as her children are concerned, we need to interview them as soon as possible.’

JOHAN WAS WOKEN
by someone shaking him. He blinked at the light, and at first he had no idea where he was. Then he remembered. Last night at the Solo Club.

Afterwards he’d gone back to the office and crashed on the sofa. He was staring up at a face black with soot. It took him a second before he recognized who it was.

‘Wake up. I’ve been ringing and ringing your mobile. You’d probably just go on snoozing even if the sky was falling.’

‘Calm down,’ he groaned.

He sat up, yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He had a terrible taste in his mouth. Then he stared in surprise at Pia.

‘Have you seen what you look like?’

‘Some people have been working while you’ve been lying here dreaming. Did you go out on the town last night? Or to some party?’

‘I wish. No, I was at the Solo Club, taking care of drunk little girls. What’s going on?’

Pia’s face was as black as the eyeliner she used. Her hair stuck out even more than usual, and her clothes were wrinkled and covered with black specks. The streaks on her neck matched her black mascara.

‘A cabin burned down out near Holmhällar.’

‘And?’

‘It was arson, and a woman was injured. I thought we could at least get some pictures for the wire service. I was awake when the call came in, and I happened to be down by Sudret, so I managed to take pictures while the
cabin
was still burning, plus I interviewed the fire chief. Then I waited for the crime techs to arrive and got one of them to confirm that they’d found a petrol can on the property along with several rags. Unfortunately, I missed the ambulance that came for the injured woman.’

‘Do you know how serious her injuries are?’

‘The fire chief thought she was just suffering from minor smoke inhalation. I called the hospital, but they wouldn’t tell me anything, of course. And by the way, it turned out to be a lucky break that I went out there.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘The cabin doesn’t belong to just anybody, let me tell you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Veronika Hammar was living there. You know – the artist who does those sheep paintings that they sell at Stora Torget? Sheep out in the pasture, back-lit sheep, sheep on the beach …’

‘Oh, right. Sure, I know those paintings.’

‘Well, she’s the one who was injured. And do you know who she was having an affair with?’

‘No.’

‘Viktor Algård. She’s the secret mistress.’

Johan slowly put down his coffee cup.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘How sure?’

‘Absolutely positive. I have a reliable source.’

‘We need two sources. Independent of each other.’

‘I don’t know whether that’s really necessary in this case.’ Pia had a sly look on her face.

‘Why not?’

‘My source is very close to the individual in question. I got the information from Andreas. You know – the sheep farmer.’

‘So?’

‘His last name is Hammar.’

Johan stared at his colleague, dumbfounded.

‘You’re dating Veronika Hammar’s son?’

‘Your powers of deduction are impressive.’

Johan turned on his computer and read the wire service news. All of the newspapers had printed pictures of the fire on the front page. Nowhere did it say that the cabin belonged to Veronika Hammar or that there was any connection between the fire and the murder of Viktor Algård.

‘But if the cabin belonged to Veronika and she was his secret girlfriend, then it sounds like the fire could have been attempted murder,’ said Johan. ‘Which means that the person who killed Algård is now after Veronika Hammar.’

‘Very smart, Sherlock. Now you get it.’

Pia turned to her computer to upload the pictures.

VERONIKA HAMMAR HAD A
private room at the far end of the corridor. The ward nurse had warned Knutas that the patient was exhausted and would probably be kept in hospital another day for observation. He gently knocked on the door before entering the room. He gave a start when he caught sight of the woman lying in the bed. Veronika looked as if she had aged ten years since he last saw her. She wore no make-up, her hair was uncombed, and she had on a white hospital gown that was partly visible above the yellow blanket. She seemed to have shrunk even smaller, looking like an injured little bird with no strength left. Her throat was wrinkled, her lips chapped. She lay there motionless with her eyes closed as he came in.

‘Hello,’ he said quietly.

No reaction. He patted her hand. She gave a start and opened her eyes.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you. My name is Anders Knutas, and I’m head of the crime division here. We’ve met once before.’

‘I know who you are. I may be suffering from smoke inhalation, but I haven’t lost my memory.’ Her voice was sharp and dry.

Knutas pulled over a chair and sat down.

‘Could you tell me what happened?’

The frail woman sighed and pushed herself up into a sitting position, motioning impatiently for him to help her put two pillows behind her back. Then she rang for the nurse and asked for a glass of water.

‘The fire woke me up. It was horrible, just horrible. The room was very hot, and I saw thick smoke seeping in around the door. I broke the
window
and climbed out. After that, all I could do was sit and watch the whole house burn to the ground. With everything inside. All of my things, all of my memories …’

She didn’t look at him as she talked. She kept her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Tears began running down her cheeks. Knutas waited before asking any more questions. The nurse came in with the glass of water and then left again. He shifted nervously on the chair. This was an uncomfortable situation, but since Veronika showed no sign that she would stop crying, he continued with the interview.

‘Did you see or hear anything suspicious? Did you notice any strangers in the area?’

‘I went out to the cabin the day before yesterday. I was worn out after everything that had happened – with Viktor dying and then the police interview and all the neighbours staring at me and whispering. It was too much. I went out there to escape, and I didn’t tell a soul where I was going. I don’t usually set foot out in the country until Whitsun because I hate being alone, so I’m sure nobody thought that’s where I’d go. But right from the start I had the feeling that someone was out there. Both when I took a walk and later when I went back to the cabin. Last night, before the fire started, I was convinced that there was a prowler on the property.’

‘Did you see anything?’

‘No, but it seemed that a shadow passed by outside the window. It made me nervous, and I know that I can always trust my intuition. Someone was out there. I’m sure of it.’

‘What’s your interpretation of what happened?’

‘Some madman is out to get me. There’s no doubt in my mind.’

‘How can you be so sure about that?’

Finally the woman lying in bed turned to look at him. Her expression was incredulous.

‘Surely it has to be obvious, even to the police,’ she said caustically. ‘Someone set the cabin on fire while I was inside. That means the arson was intended to kill me. I was supposed to die in the blaze. My first
thought
was that it had to be Viktor’s wife, Elisabeth, who did it. First she killed her husband and then she tried to kill me.’

‘That leads me to my next question,’ said Knutas. ‘During the party at the conference centre you were given a drink from an unknown admirer. Do you remember that?’

Veronika Hammar looked confused.

‘Yes, I think so,’ she said uncertainly.

‘It was a strawberry daiquiri, non-alcoholic.’

‘So?’

‘Did you taste the drink?’

Silence filled the room as Knutas tensely studied the woman. She bit her lip and turned to look up at the ceiling again.

‘I don’t really remember … Did I? I had the drink in my hand, but then I had to go to the loo, so I gave it to Viktor. I don’t think I even took a sip.’

‘And then you parted and didn’t see each other again. Is that right?’

‘That’s right. I … do you mean that …?’

‘The drink was probably poisoned.’

‘So it was intended for me?’ Veronika pressed her hands to her chest. She looked stunned, and her voice shook as she went on: ‘So you’re saying that the murderer was after me right from the start? That Viktor died by mistake? That’s terrible!’

‘Why didn’t you tell us about this before, at the first interview?’

‘It simply didn’t occur to me. I’d forgotten all about it.’

‘You said that the last time you saw Viktor was when he took your drink and you went to the ladies’ room. Is that right?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you didn’t see him again that night?’

Veronika shook her head. Knutas didn’t take his eyes off her.

‘Then can you explain to me why the crime scene is practically covered with your fingerprints?’

Veronika’s reaction was instantaneous and unexpected.

She stared at him in dismay for several seconds before she shrieked: ‘Stop it! I can’t take this any more! I’m a fragile person. I can’t handle this sort of thing!’

Tears poured out, and now she was wailing, not just crying. The woman’s unexpected outburst nearly frightened Knutas out of his wits.

‘All right, take it easy,’ he urged her, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘I’m not accusing you of anything. You must realize that we need to know exactly what happened.’ He patted her clumsily on the back.

‘First somebody kills the love of my life, then someone sneaks up and sets fire to my cabin, and now you’re trying to make me a suspect! There bloody well has to be a limit to what a person has to endure. There has to be a limit even for me!’