“So, how are things?” Eva asked. She had become a good friend in recent years. Nora saw her almost every day, since Fabian and Simon attended swimming lessons together. Eva was one of those rare individuals who really seemed to care about other people and was always in a good mood.
Nora met Eva’s concerned gaze. She knew she had been unusually subdued all day.
“Could be better. It hasn’t been a great week, has it?” Nora said.
“Did you have a good time last night?”
“Not exactly. We had a massive fight about that job I mentioned the other day.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Eva placed a consoling hand on Nora’s shoulder.
Nora tucked her knees up under her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. She thought for a moment before she answered. “Henrik can’t understand why I’m interested in working in Malmö. He won’t even try to listen. He doesn’t want to move away from Stockholm; he thinks we have a good life at the moment, and there’s nothing to discuss.” She picked up a small pebble and skimmed it across the water. It bounced three times before sinking. She found another that was nice and flat and tried again. This time she counted four. Her personal best was seven, but that must have been at least fifteen years ago—maybe even twenty. “It’s as if his job is the only one that counts.”
“But you do have a good life, don’t you?” Eva said.
“That’s not the point. We have a great life, of course we do, but at least we ought to be able to talk about this before he dismisses the whole idea. What do you think would have happened if it had been the other way round? If he’d been made a terrific offer from Sahlgrenska University Hospital in Gothenburg?” She picked up another pebble and hurled it furiously into the sea. It sank immediately. “I just can’t stand the thought of going back after our vacation and working with Ragnar again. The man is a complete idiot.” She ran her hands through her hair in frustration. “And I’m an idiot if I don’t move. Particularly when the bank is offering me an opportunity like this.”
Eva patted her on the shoulder again to show her sympathy. Then she adjusted the strap of her red swimsuit and lay down on her stomach on the warm rock. “This hasn’t been an easy week for you. How’s the investigation going, by the way? Have you heard anything from Thomas?”
Nora shook her head. “I haven’t spoken to him—we’ve just exchanged some texts. He’s been so busy. He sent a message to tell me he’d be on Harö this weekend, mainly to get some sleep, I think. He’s been working all hours. The last time I saw him he looked absolutely shattered.”
“There was something I wanted to talk to him about . . . I think.”
Nora looked at Eva, who frowned and started chewing her thumbnail. “What do you mean?”
“We had visitors from Stockholm last Sunday. Malin called me last night to say thanks.” Eva hesitated. “She said she was almost certain she’d been sitting a couple seats away from Jonny Almhult on the ferry back to Stockholm.”
Nora sat up and turned her head so she could see Eva more clearly in the bright sunlight. “Is she sure?”
“She said she remembered him because he stank of stale booze. They were only a few feet apart. Her oldest daughter wanted to know why he smelled so horrible. You know, the way kids do.”
“Go on.”
“That’s it. They disembarked, and she didn’t give it another thought until Jonny’s body was found, and she saw his picture in the paper. That was when she realized he’d been sitting near them on the ferry.” She fell silent and looked anxiously at Nora.
“Has she called the police?”
“I don’t think so. It didn’t sound as if she had. Should I mention it to Thomas?”
“Definitely,” Nora said. “Thomas told me every piece of information is valuable. They’re trying to find out where Jonny was before he died. Did your friend see where he went when they got to Stockholm?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask,” Eva said.
Nora got to her feet. “Come on. Let’s go back. We need to call Thomas.”
MONDAY, THE FOURTH WEEK
CHAPTER 43
Margit had left her family and traveled up from the west coast. She was sitting at her desk reading through all the case notes, and she was in a foul mood. Any hope of a restful, uninterrupted vacation had been shattered. The situation was not improved by the fact that her teenage daughter had immediately found soul mates of her own age and was more than happy to escape her mother’s watchful eye.
Thomas and Margit had gone through the entire investigation from start to finish, and he had summarized the events of the past week.
They were still unable to find a link between Krister and Kicki Berggren and Sandhamn. Neither their background nor a search of their respective apartments had come up with anything that could lead to someone on the island. They had received a number of calls from the public but nothing of any real value.
The money was on Sandhamn, Agneta Ahlin had said. Thomas kept thinking about that. What money? And where was it?
As expected, the forensic report had confirmed that the dried blood on the radiator in Jonny Almhult’s house was Kicki’s. The jacket hanging in his hallway also belonged to her. Therefore, there was clear evidence that she had been there, but it had been impossible to establish where she had ingested the fatal poison.
Thomas wondered when he had last felt properly rested. His sleep deficit was beginning to reach unimaginable levels. He remembered how tired he had been during those first few months after Emily was born, but it had been easier then because he had been so amazed at the miracle of becoming a father.
At the moment, he was utterly exhausted. Either he was trying to talk to people on Sandhamn or he was trying to piece together information as it emerged. They had brought in extra staff to go through everything one more time with a fine-tooth comb.
Thomas went off to the coffee machine. It felt like an admission of defeat, but the only thing that enabled him to think clearly at the moment was unlimited quantities of caffeine. With a certain amount of distaste he got a cup for himself and one for Margit, then went back to her office.
“Here,” he said. “This might help. Who wants a family vacation when you can sit in a stifling hot police station and solve a murder?”
Margit looked at him, her expression grim. “Very funny. I promised the girls we’d have four weeks together this year. And it was a nightmare trying to find a decent place to rent in July that didn’t cost a fortune.”
Thomas leaned back in his chair. “But the family’s having a good time, right? They’re still down there?”
“Oh yes, the girls are absolutely fine. But Bertil wasn’t at all pleased when I said I’d have to come back here.” Margit glanced apologetically at the photograph of her husband that stood on her desk. She put her head in her hands and groaned. “I just don’t understand how Jonny Almhult comes into the picture. Everyone you’ve spoken to describes him as a fairly innocuous person, not a violent character. Definitely not a ladies’ man. It’s hard to imagine him beating Kicki Berggren after drowning her cousin.”