FJÄLLBACKA 1919
The Sjölins were having another party. Dagmar was grateful for every occasion that they celebrated with a party. She needed the extra income, and it was marvellous to have the chance to see up close all those rich and beautiful people. They lived such wonderful and carefree lives. They ate good food and drank copiously, they danced, sang, and laughed until dawn. She wished that her own life was like that, but so far she would have to settle for waiting on those more fortunate, basking in their presence for a short while.
This party seemed to be something special. Early in the morning she and the other staff had been taken over to an island off Fjällbacka, and all day long boats had shuttled back and forth, bringing food, wine, and guests.
‘Dagmar! You need to fetch more wine from the root cellar!’ shouted Mrs Sjölin, the doctor’s wife. Dagmar hurried off.
She was anxious to stay on good terms with Mrs Sjölin. The last thing she wanted was for the woman to start keeping an eye on her. If that happened, Mrs Sjölin would soon notice the glances and affectionate pinches her husband kept giving Dagmar during their parties. Sometimes he went even further, if his wife excused herself and retired to her room. By then the rest of the revellers would be too drunk or preoccupied with their own merriment to care about anything else going on around them. After those occasions, the doctor would slip Dagmar a little extra when the wages were handed out.
Quickly she plucked up four bottles of wine and dashed back up the steps with them. She was hugging them close to her chest when she ran right into somebody, and the bottles fell to the ground. Two of them broke, and Dagmar realized with anguish that the cost would most likely be deducted from her wages. Tears began rolling down her cheeks as she stared at the man in front of her.
‘Forgive me!’ he said, but the Danish words he spoke sounded strange.
Her distress swiftly turned to anger.
‘What do you think you’re doing? Don’t you know you can’t stand in front of a door like that?’
‘Forgive me,’ he repeated. ‘Ich verstehe nicht,’ he said in German.
Suddenly Dagmar knew who he was. She had collided with the evening’s guest of honour, the German hero, the pilot who had fought bravely during the war. But after Germany’s stinging defeat, he had been making his living by flying in air shows. Everyone had been whispering about him all day. He’d apparently made a home for himself in Copenhagen, but it was rumoured that some scandal had now forced him to come to Sweden.
Dagmar stared at him. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. He didn’t seem to be as drunk as many of the other guests, and his gaze was unwavering as he looked into her eyes. For a long moment they stood there, staring at each other. Dagmar lifted her chin. She knew she was beautiful. She’d had this confirmed so many times by men who ran their hands over her body and panted words in her ear. But never before had she been so pleased with her own beauty.
Without taking his eyes off her, the pilot bent down and began picking up shards of glass from the broken bottles. Carefully he carried them over to a little grove of trees and tossed them to the ground. Then he set his finger to his lips, stepped into the root cellar and brought out two more bottles. Dagmar smiled gratefully as she went over to take the bottles from him. She happened to glance down at his hands and discovered that he was bleeding from a cut on his left index finger.
She gestured to show that she wanted to have a look at his hand, so he set the bottles on the ground. It was not a deep cut, but it was bleeding heavily. With her eyes fixed on his, she put his finger in her mouth and gently sucked away the blood. His eyes widened, and she saw the familiar look as they glazed over. She moved away and picked up the bottles. As she turned and walked back to the guests, she could feel his eyes following her.
Chapter Five
Patrik had gathered his colleagues to discuss the case. It was important that Mellberg be brought up to date. He cleared his throat. ‘You weren’t here over the weekend, Bertil, so I’m wondering whether you heard about what happened.’
‘No, tell me,’ demanded Mellberg, looking at Patrik.
‘On Saturday there was a fire out at the summer camp on Valö. There are indications that it was started deliberately.’
‘Arson?’
‘We haven’t had it confirmed yet. We’re waiting for the report from Torbjörn,’ said Patrik. He hesitated for a moment before going on. ‘But there’s enough evidence to indicate that we should keep working on the case.’
Patrik pointed to Gösta, who was standing at the whiteboard, holding a marker in his hand.
‘Gösta has taken out the files on the family that disappeared on Valö. He-’ Patrik began before being interrupted.
‘I know the case you’re talking about. Everybody knows that old story. But what does it have to do with this?’ said Mellberg. He leaned down to pet his dog Ernst, who was lying under his chair.
‘We’re not sure.’ Patrik was already feeling tired. He always had to run things past Mellberg, who was officially in charge of the station, although in practice he was more than willing to let Patrik assume full responsibility. So long as he could take full credit when the case was solved. ‘We’re going into the investigation without any preconceived notions. But it does seem very strange that this should happen just as the sole surviving member of the family, the daughter, returns to the island for the first time in thirty-five years.’
‘They probably set the house on fire themselves. To get the insurance money,’ said Mellberg.
‘I’m looking into their finances,’ said Martin, who was sitting next to Annika. He seemed unusually subdued. ‘I should have something to report by tomorrow morning.’
‘Good. I’m sure that will solve the mystery. Most likely they found out it was going to cost too much to renovate that old eyesore, so they decided it would make more sense to burn it down. I saw a lot of that during my days in Göteborg.’
‘As I said, we’re not going to lock ourselves into any specific theory at the moment,’ said Patrik. ‘Now I think we should let Gösta tell us what he remembers.’
He sat down and nodded for Gösta to begin. What Erica had told him during their boat trip through the archipelago was fascinating. Now he wanted to hear what Gösta could tell them about the old investigation.
‘I’m sure that all of you are familiar with the case, but if you don’t mind I’ll start from the beginning.’ Gösta looked around, and everybody seated at the table nodded their agreement.
‘On 13 April 1974, the night before Easter Sunday, somebody rang the police in Tanum and told them to come out to the boarding school on Valö. The caller hung up before explaining what had happened. The old police chief took the call, and according to him, it was impossible to tell whether the informant was male or female.’ Gösta paused for a moment as in his mind he was carried back to that time in the past. ‘My colleague Henry Ljung and I were told to head out there and find out what was going on. Half an hour later we arrived on the scene and found something strange. The table in the dining room was set for Easter lunch and the food had been partially eaten, but there was no trace of the family that lived there. The only person present was a one-year-old girl, Ebba, who was toddling around all alone. It was as if the rest of the family had gone up in smoke. As if they’d stood up in the middle of the meal and vanished.’