LINA PÅLSSON DIDN’T REMEMBER him at first, even though he introduced himself using his full name and reminded her that they had been in the same class all throughout their school years. To be fair, they were talking on the phone and not meeting in person, but she was totally confused, which left Fabian wondering whether she really was the Lina from his class. She couldn’t place him until he used the nickname “Fabbe,” but once he did she immediately invited him to come over for coffee at 1 p.m. that day, which gave him enough time to get settled at his new desk and contact the Øresund Bridge.
Hugo Elvin’s desk chair looked like a cool experimental piece from the future. It had lots of knobs and levers, but unfortunately was not very pleasant to sit on. Actually it was decidedly uncomfortable, and Fabian started to adjust the levers while he tried to explain to an administrator at the Øresund Bridge’s central office why he was calling. He was transferred to someone else. As the phone rang, he managed to find a perfect setting on the chair. He couldn’t help wondering what Hugo Elvin’s body type was.
“Are you like that Kurt Wallander guy?” a woman suddenly asked on the other end. Fabian, who hadn’t had time to realize that the phone had stopped ringing, explained that Wallander outranked him. Well, he would have outranked him if Wallander weren’t fictional.
“Are you all really that smart in real life?” she asked.
Five minutes later, Fabian had managed to redirect the conversation away from Kurt Wallander so that he was the one asking the questions and the woman was answering them. She told him that every vehicle that passed through the toll booth at Lernacken was photographed by two cameras: one at the front, to capture the licence plate number, and one above, to measure the length of the vehicle, which ensured that the correct toll was debited. The bridge’s central office also used the pictures as evidence when someone skipped out on paying.
Fabian told her that they were looking for a Chevy pickup with the licence plate number BJY 509. It should have passed through the toll on its way to Denmark on Tuesday, June 22, just after 6:00 a.m., and returned later that same day at 11:18 p.m. The woman promised to find the images and she asked for his email address so that she could send them to him. Fabian gave her Tuvesson’s email address, since he hadn’t been assigned one yet, and thanked the woman for her help. He then left police headquarters to go meet Lina Pålsson.
*
THE GPS TOLD FABIAN to turn off at Ödåkra; it guided him through the neighbourhood, which looked like any other suburb, until he came to Tögatan, where he stopped outside number nine. He got out of the car and walked up to the two-storey home, which was made of the same red brick as Fredriksdal School. Fabian couldn’t understand how Jörgen and Lina had stayed together for more than thirty years. Back then he had been convinced they wouldn’t even last a semester.
He rang the doorbell and thought of the first time he rang the doorbell at Lina’s family’s apartment. He’d been in fourth grade, and wasn’t brave enough to stick around — he ran off to hide on the next floor up before her father answered.
Fabian and Lina had agreed to walk to school together in the mornings and from then on he rang her doorbell every morning. The journey to school had been the high point of each day. He had her all to himself. They would talk and laugh, and he did everything he could to make the walk as slow as possible.
Klippan was right. Lina had definitely been the most beautiful girl in their class, and Fabian wondered if she was still just as pretty.
A large woman, bordering on fat, opened the door. She was wearing a baggy brown dress and her hair was black, except for the roots, which were grey. She looked tired and worn out. Above all, she looked considerably older than her forty-three years, I guess Molander was right about ageing, Fabian thought.
“You must be Fabian Risk,” she said. Fabian nodded, shaking her hand. “Agneta. Lina’s cousin. We’re taking shifts, so she doesn’t have to be alone. Come in.”
Fabian followed her inside. His eyes swept the living room, which was more charming than he’d expected after seeing the outside of the house. Lina, however, was nowhere to be seen.
“Wait here, I’ll bring the coffee out,” Agneta said, vanishing into the kitchen.
Fabian walked over to the bookcase. Even in the age of digital downloads, a bookcase was still one of the places in a home that held the most secrets.
This particular shelf contained the usual books, cultural items, and objects. A collection of colourful liquor bottles and crystal glasses of various sizes, as well as souvenirs from Greece and the Canary Islands, filled the illuminated glass portion. The CD collection consisted of a few compilations, and the DVD collection was half Disney and half Swedish detective films. Novels by Jan Guillou, Henning Mankell, and John Grisham made up at least three-quarters of the extremely selective book collection; the rest were the obligatory volumes by August Strindberg, William Shakespeare, and Charles Dickens. The only titles that spoiled the picture of normalcy, or improved it, depending on how you chose to look at it, were Paul Auster, Cormac McCarthy, and Jonathan Franzen. Fabian decided those books must be Lina’s. He also discovered a few photo albums on the bottom shelf. He picked up the first one: it contained pictures of Jörgen and Lina’s wedding. Fabian couldn’t help thinking that she had married down. The next album was more varied, containing pictures of everything from Christmases and birthdays to crayfish parties and baptisms. In some of the pictures, Jörgen was posing bare-chested, showing off his tattooed and beefed-up muscles.
“Find anything interesting?”
Fabian quickly looked up from the album and saw Lina. “Well, there you are,” he said, putting down the album and wondering if he should give her a hug. He decided to put out his hand, even though his palm was already sweaty. “Hi.”
“Don’t I get a hug?”
“Of course, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want...” He gave her a cautious hug.
“I hardly recognize you. I heard you moved to Stockholm.”
“Yes, but I’m back now. And I definitely recognize you. You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Thank you.”
Fabian realized he had no idea where to go from here or how to avoid the awkward silence. He felt like the boy who had just rung the doorbell, but he didn’t have time to run and hide now. Agneta came back from the kitchen with a tray of coffee and placed it on the table.
“Lina, do you want me to stay here?”
“No, Agge, it’s fine. I’ll be okay.”
Agneta vanished again, and Lina and Fabian went over and sat down on the couch.
“You’re going to work on this investigation, as a policeman?” Lina said while pouring the coffee; her hand was unsteady, making it nearly impossible.
“Please, let me do that,” Fabian said, taking the coffee pot and pouring for her.
“I’m so sorry.” Lina burst into silent tears. “But I just don’t understand. I don’t understand how someone could do something like this to Jörgen. He was so well liked. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
He wanted to move closer and put a comforting hand on her shaking shoulder, but decided to stay where he was. He was here in his capacity as a police officer and nothing more. “Lina, I know this must be incredibly difficult, but can you think of anyone who might be behind this?”
Lina shook her head. “Absolutely no one. Like I said, everyone adored him. His students at school absolutely worshipped him. He knew how to deal with them, especially the problem kids.”
“Yes, I can certainly imagine. After all, he was a little... how should I put it... rowdy in his day.”
Lina looked up into Fabian’s eyes. “What do you mean?”
Either she’s repressed the memories or she can’t deal with them right now, Fabian thought, putting his mug down on the glass table. “Lina, if we’re to have any chance of catching whoever did this, I’m going to need to do some digging and turn over some rocks.”
Lina glanced away and Fabian didn’t do anything to break the silence; at last, she gave in and nodded.
“As I understand it, he had just been to Germany to buy beer. Do you know if he went with anyone?”
“He always went by himself.”
“And there couldn’t have been an exception this time?”
Lina shook her head. “If he had to share the space in the truck with someone else it wouldn’t be worth the trip.”
“Not even for the company?”
“Who would want to do that? Sit in a truck all the way to Germany and back, and not even be able to buy anything?”
She’s right, thought Fabian, who still didn’t get the point of going down there at all. “Maybe a friend wanted to go? Did he keep in contact with anyone from our class, besides you?”
“No, just Glenn. Glenn Granqvist.”
Fabian nodded. Glenn and Jörgen had been best friends for as far back as Fabian could recall — they were cut from the same cloth. A talk with Glenn would have to be the next item on his to-do list.
“Judging from what I saw in your photo albums, Jörgen looked like he was in pretty good shape.”
“Yes, he was always careful to keep fit. When the kids were little, it sometimes felt like he was at the gym more than he was at home.”
“So he worked out a lot?” Fabian asked, thinking that from here on out it was sink or swim. “Do you happen to know if he was taking anything to help increase his muscle growth?”
Lina met his gaze, as if she had been expecting any question but this one. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anabolic steroids? Of course he wasn’t.”
Fabian was certain that Jörgen had used steroids, but that wasn’t the point of the question. The important thing was the way Lina had answered and that she was lying.
“Did he ever hit you?”
This time Lina was better prepared. She was cool and collected. She snorted and shook her head. “I honestly don’t understand what you’re trying to get at. Jörgen was one of the nicest people you could imagine, and he would never have hurt me, or anyone else for that matter.”
“Lina, I’m not out to ruin Jörgen’s reputation. But you and I both know what he was like back in school, and all I want to find out is whether he —”
“I think you should leave now.” She stood up. “Please, just leave.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to —”
“Agge! You can come in now! We’re done in here!”