LATE IN THE AFTERNOON Javier Mendez sat in front of his computer, deep in thought. The only thing he knew about her was that she was 20 years old.
”Alva Aldhamo born…” he typed into the Personal Data file.
It wasn’t long before the information he was looking for appeared on the screen. Aldhamo was an unusual name and the search only produced one result: Alva Kristina Aldhamo was born in Stockholm on the 1st of May twenty years ago, and died on the 8th of May.
“Deceased? How?” he wrote in his notebook, and then scanned the rest of the available information. “Father: unknown. Mother: Susanne Aldhamo – Susanne Aldhamo?” He stared at the screen. ”Susanne Aldhamo,” he repeated to himself. ”I’ll be damned! It’s Maria!” he exclaimed triumphantly.
He noted down the necessary information and with his papers in hand Javier walked over to Sanna’s office.
”One of Börge Svenson’s ex-girlfriends is dead,” he declared as he stepped into the room.
Sanna stopped working on her computer and looked up.
”What?”
Javier waved the papers he was holding.
”Who’s dead? Can I read it?” Sanna reached for the papers. ”Mm…we’ll have to find out how Alva Aldhamo died. Find out the details.”
”Yup!”
”How come she’s still registered under her home address?”
”Yeah, that's weird. I’ll head over and find out who’s living there.”
”Maybe Susanne Aldhamo?”
”No, I haven’t been able to find Susanne Aldhamo’s address, or her phone number for that matter.”
Sanna looked at him in disbelief.
He had searched through all the available databases as well as the Internet but couldn’t find an address or phone number for the notorious Susanne Aldhamo. He had tried both her real name and Maria, her pseudonym, which he presumed she used most of the time. She wasn’t dead – at least not according to the Personal Data Register. She had obviously blocked the release of her contact details. However, the files didn’t mention if she also had a hidden identity.
”I’ll go over there and check it out… If we’re lucky there’ll be someone who knows the mother and can tell us where she lives. It’s possible Susanne is subletting the apartment.”
”Let me know as soon as you find out anything. I want to be there when you talk to Susanne Aldhamo”.
Javier smiled and walked out. The knowledge that Susanne Aldhamo was the mother of one of Börge Svenson’s women had put him in a good mood. He couldn’t deny that he was excited to finally meet the mysterious Maria, who had occupied so much of his thoughts.
”HI! THIS IS SANNA JOHANSSON from the Stockholm Police.”
”Hello Miss Johansson… Sorry I mean Sanna!”
Pamela McGavin wasn’t used to referring to people she didn’t know well by their first name, especially someone she’d only met once before. However, at their long meeting this week she had been tempted to suggest that they dispense with the formalities, so when Sanna pre-empted her she was relieved. She believed it would be easier to tell your life story to a total stranger under more relaxed circumstances.
”It’s a pleasure to hear from you again – is everything alright?"
“Yes, thank you.” Sanna wasn’t interested in small talk and got straight to the point: “Did you bring the other documentation? You mentioned that you were hospitalized when you had your miscarriage?”
“Oh yes, I do have a lot of documentation here – my intention was to give it to you, so that you could make copies of the bits you find interesting, but for some reason I completely forgot I had it. I’ll bring it to our next meeting. I would also appreciate a copy of the recording you made. I’m very meticulous, and would really like to have all the evidence regarding this issue. Is that possible?”
“Yes, of course, by all means. I'll copy it onto a CD.”
THE WOMEN ARRANGED another meeting – this time at the police station. Sanna made copies of all the documents Pamela McGavin had brought. She had been thorough. Pamela didn’t live in Sweden and the acquirement of other documents would mean unnecessary and complicated administrative problems. Sanna had even made sure that each copy was certified by two people, one of whom was her boss, Inspector Henrik Blom.
The meeting wasn’t as long as the previous one – this time Sanna did most of the talking. She concentrated mainly on gathering more details about specific events and taking a thorough look at all the evidence Pamela had provided.
They promised to contact each other if they came across anything of importance and Pamela reiterated the fact that she was willing to be a witness at Börge Svenson’s trial.
SINCE THE DEATH OF HER daughter Maria had dressed from head to toe in black. Her choice of attire was a constant reminder that she had a job to do.
It was eleven o’clock, and after her visit to the Stockholm County Court she felt tired and hungry. She intended to take a stroll along Norr Mälarstrand. Along the way she stopped at Cafe Eldkvarn, which had an enticing location at the water’s edge. She bought a salad and a café latte and chose the table nearest the lake. She loved the view over Riddarfjarden.
She had just been attending a trial where the plaintiff was a young female rape victim about the same age as Alva was when she died. The photographic evidence of the woman’s horrendous injuries had upset her.
She wrapped both hands around the warm cup and looked out at the horizon.
The victim at today’s trial had been able to identify her assailant. She reminded her of Alva.
Alva had just turned twenty. Her life was beginning. She had recently moved into a small studio on Södermalm and she was over the moon about the prospect of choosing her own furniture as well as everything else that constituted being your own person and being in control of your own life.
Three years had passed since Maria's life had been drastically altered. Alva’s death had left a deep hole. She missed her daughter's playfulness, her hugs and their regular telephone conversations. She had watched proudly as Alva was transformed into a mature woman. She had been looking forward to seeing her daughter become a fully qualified gender studies professor. But Alva was never given the opportunity to realize her dreams.
She had been struck on the back of her head with a blunt object and then drugged. The exact location of her rape and murder was unknown. A passer-by found Alva’s severely battered body in a coppice in a suburb north of Stockholm.
Maria reflected upon how the event had steered her life.
At first, she had been hopeful that the police would catch Alva’s murderer and he would receive the punishment he deserved. She would phone the investigators every day, until they got so tired of her nagging they began ignoring her calls. Maria was a woman who was uncompromising in her principles. She believed that free will and the ability to choose between right and wrong was something you were born with, and even if, in general, people were innately good, some people, due to their circumstances, ended up doing bad things. If somebody crossed the line and committed an act unacceptable to society she believed strongly in trying to empathize with them. These were the core values with which she had raised her daughter. But her generous, openhearted attitude towards her fellow humans changed dramatically when that man used his power to commit an evil act against her daughter.
Maria remembered the time when she was constantly in contact with the authorities. These memories were still painful. The police had focused on discrediting Alva, instead of putting all their energies into finding the culprit.
As far as Maria was concerned, society had robbed her of everything she believed in. Not only had the police failed to capture the assailant, they had also violated the reputation of both her and her daughter as decent law abiding citizens.
She was disappointed at how the judicial system had betrayed her. She had always considered herself an upstanding citizen. However, as a single mother, the authorities perceived her as a social problem rather than an ordinary member of society.
A ten-year old boy came running into the café and sat down at the table next to her, followed by a couple with a pram. The woman parked the pram and sat down next to the boy. The man was carrying a tray with an assortment of snacks. He resembled Alex – the Alex who had been suspected of Alva’s murder but whom the police had been unable to locate. The similarity made Maria feel uneasy.
Maria brushed aside all other thoughts and focused her attention entirely on the recently arrived guests.
“I’ll go and get some water,” said the man with a Skåne accent.
There was a pause before the woman responded.
“Roger!” she shouted. “I want some water too.”
“Sure,” he replied.
Maria shifted her gaze back to the water, and resettled into her thoughts.
She was reminded of how the police had looked upon Alva’s relationship with Alex. Because her daughter had died under relatively unusual circumstances, Maria was branded an unfit mother who was unable to control her child, implying that it wasn’t surprising how things turned out. After all, she had been cavorting with a foreigner, someone who wasn’t even registered in the Personal Data Files.
The bizarre and contradictory behaviour of the police had, at first, struck her as an absurd way to handle a murder investigation. But she soon realized that they were completely serious. The odds seemed to be stacked against her. The police insisted that Alva had been hanging around with a bad crowd and even began speculating that she was a drug addict because of traces found in her blood.
Nine months later, the head of the investigation advised her that the case was being suspended due to lack of technical evidence.
When she heard the news her reaction was muted. She had long since come to terms with the fact that the police would never catch Alva’s killer. During this period she realized she would have to solve the case herself.
Time went by but she couldn’t forget how they had treated her. Their attacks were like a slap in the face. Despite being aware of her financial situation and Alva’s academic success, they implied that it was very common for single mothers to raise problem children.
She reproached herself for being powerless to prevent the horrendous death her daughter had faced. She should never have taught Alva to believe that people were fundamentally good-natured.
After the police informed her that the investigation was being terminated, Maria was forced to re-evaluate the situation and come up with a new strategy to ensure justice for her Alva. What motivated her more than anything was the desire for revenge. She wanted him to pay for what he did. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. She vowed never to put the case to rest until she had found the perpetrator – the man who had murdered her daughter.
AT QUARTER TO SEVEN on Wednesday evening Sanna turned off her laptop and dug out Ingrid Svenson’s journal, which she had placed at the back of the drawer on the left hand side of her desk. She stared reluctantly at it. She had hoped to finish reading it during her office hours but that was impossible. There were other important elements of the investigation that demanded her attention during the day, when it would be easier to get hold of the people she needed to talk to.
As soon as Sanna arrived home she changed into her training gear, drank a large glass of water and headed out for a run. She needed to clear her head.
But the journal continued to dominate her thoughts, and the normally relaxing exercise routine failed to fulfil its purpose. After half an hour she turned back. She showered, made herself a large Chai latte and brought out Ingrid Svenson’s journal. She sat down in her favourite armchair and opened the notebook.
After a few hours heavy reading she was exhausted and longed to put the book away and go to sleep even though it was only ten o’clock.
She put her hands together and stretched her arms up in the air with the palms of her hands extended toward the ceiling.
“Twenty more pages and then I'm stopping,” she convinced herself.
14th of April: “Received a phone call from an English-speaking woman called Pamela McGavin-Svenson. She said she knew Börge very well from her time in Manchester. We made arrangements to meet on Wednesday when Viktor is with his Grandmother. Börge is away all week...”
”What?” Sannas heart sank. She straightened up in the armchair, but remained seated with both her feet on the floor. ”She met Pamela McGavin!!”
During their meeting, Pamela explained that she was in Sweden on a business trip. When she had found out through an old schoolmate from Manchester that Börge Svenson had remarried she felt duty bound to contact his new wife and inform her that their marriage had never actually been dissolved. They had lived together for two years, but Börge’s constant, uncontrollable violence towards her had eventually driven her into hiding.
Pamela admitted she had been uncertain how to react when she found out Börge had remarried, despite him still being officially married to her. She had been intending to warn Ingrid about her husband’s violent tendencies. About his aggressive nature and the abuse which she had endured for so long.
In her journal, Ingrid compared Pamela’s story to her own relationship with Börge. It was as if he was re-enacting his earlier marriage – the same old excuses and declarations of love, the same words and phrases.
Pamela McGavin admitted that her primary motivation for contacting Ingrid after all these years was because she hoped there was still time.
”Leave the bastard before its too late!” she had implored. ”Börge is extremely unpredictable, and it’s very hard to figure him out or anticipate what he’ll do next.” She admitted that she would have preferred to avoid this meeting, but her conscience got the better of her. It wouldn’t be right to remain silent. She would never have forgiven herself if something terrible had happened when it was within her power to prevent it.
After the meeting with Pamela, Ingrid had decided to confront Börge. She deserved an explanation. Apparently their marriage was a sham because Pamela McGavin-Svenson and Börge Svenson had never filed for a divorce.
24th of May: “After dinner on our way to the living room I asked Börge if he knew Pamela McGavin from Manchester. He glanced at me and left the room without commenting and went up to the bedroom. He said he had a terrible headache and wasn’t in the mood for idiotic questions. He also told me that his previous life was none of my business.”
Ingrid Svenson had gathered the strength to confront Börge again, but every time she was about to mention it she lost her nerve.
Ever since the day she first mentioned Pamela he had showed a radical change in attitude. He was dismissive, reticent and more easily provoked than usual. However, the main difference was that instead of lashing out, which would have been his normal reaction, he would skulk off to his study and say that he didn't want to be disturbed.
15th of June: “It's gone too far! That woman called and threatened me again. I can't wait any longer. He has to do something and stop her contacting me. He has to talk to her. He should know I'm ready to call the police.
He can’t keep on refusing to talk about Pamela McGavin. I’m tired of his lies.”
Sanna stared at the text. This was Ingrid’s last diary entry. She put the book down onto the table, got up and walked over to the window. The street was deserted. Every now and then she heard the distant sound of a car passing by on one of the side streets. A newspaper delivery van was parked outside one of the buildings. The morning sun filtered through the branches of the tree onto Sanna’s window ledge.
Sanna looked at the black book again. Her head was filled with a thousand thoughts. Pamela McGavin had spoken to Ingrid, and yet she hadn’t mentioned it. ”Maybe she forgot,” she said to herself. ”She had so much else to tell me anyway.” Sanna went to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. The worlds of two women with similar fates had collided. One had left her husband. The other had agonized over the decision – until it was too late.
”Leave the bastard before its too late,” Pamela had implored.
Sanna needed to find out more about this woman called Ingalill who had threatened Ingrid.
There were no more entries after the 15th of June. Two days before she was murdered.
“Perhaps this had provoked his anger? Was it his motive for killing her? Is it yet more proof that he was responsible? Was Ingalill also involved?” pondered Sanna.
She picked up the book again and sank back in the armchair. She looked tired and sullen. She drank the cold tea with mechanical movements.