Quickly she ran out of the room and down the stairs. Patrik and Gösta were standing in the front hall.
‘Hi! What are you doing here?’
Gösta evaded her eye and looked very uncomfortable. Their secret agreement did not seem to be something he could accept with equanimity, and she couldn’t resist teasing him a bit.
‘I haven’t seen you in a while, Gösta. How are things?’ She could hardly conceal her smile as she watched him turn bright red. Even his earlobes were pink.
‘Hmm… fine,’ he muttered, staring at his shoes.
‘Everything okay here?’ asked Patrik.
Erica’s expression instantly turned serious. For a moment she’d managed to forget that someone had probably been inside their house. She realized that she ought to inform Patrik of her suspicions, but so far she had no proof. It was lucky he hadn’t answered his phone when she rang earlier. She knew how upset he got whenever anything affected his family. It was possible that he might send her and the children to stay somewhere else if he thought that somebody had broken into their home. So she decided not to say anything for the time being, despite the sense of unease that was nagging at her. It was all she could do to keep from glancing at the veranda door, as if at any moment someone might step inside again.
She still hadn’t answered Patrik’s question when Kristina came up from the laundry room with the children in tow.
‘What are you doing home, Patrik? Do you know what happened earlier? I practically had a heart attack. I was standing in the kitchen, making pancakes for the children, when I caught sight of Noel tottering towards the street as fast as his little legs could carry him, and I have to tell you that I caught him in the nick of time. He could have come to serious harm if I hadn’t been on hand. You must remember to shut all of the doors properly, because those little ones are fast. Something terrible might happen, and then you’d regret it for the rest of your life…’
Erica was staring at her mother-in-law, waiting to see if she was ever going to pause to draw breath.
‘I forgot to close the veranda door,’ she told Patrik without meeting his eye.
‘Okay, good advice, Mamma. We’ll have to be extra careful now that the twins are starting to get around on their own.’ He gathered up the boys, who had come rushing towards their father, throwing themselves into his arms.
‘Hi, Uncle Gösta,’ said Maja.
Gösta turned beet red again and gave Erica a desperate look. But Patrik seemed not to notice anything because he was busy playing with his sons.
After a moment he glanced up at Erica.
‘We actually dropped by to pick up my mobile. Have you seen it?’
Erica pointed towards the kitchen. ‘You left it on the bench this morning.’
Patrik went to get the phone. ‘I see you tried to call me. Was it anything special?’
‘No, I just wanted to say that I love you,’ she said, hoping he wouldn’t see through her white lie.
‘I love you too, sweetie,’ said Patrik distractedly as he studied the display. ‘I’ve got five missed calls from Annika. I’d better ring her and find out what’s up.’
Erica tried to eavesdrop on his conversation, but Kristina was chattering non-stop with Gösta so she caught only a few words. When Patrik was done with the call his expression told her it was bad news.
‘A shooting on Valö. Someone fired into the house. Anna is out there too. Annika said she was the one who rang the station.’
Erica’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Anna? Is she okay? Was she hurt? Who…?’ She could hear how incoherent she sounded, but the only thing she could think of was that something might have happened to Anna.
‘From what I understand, no one was hurt. That’s the good news.’ He turned to Gösta. ‘The bad news is that Annika was forced to ring Mellberg when she couldn’t reach us.’
‘Mellberg?’ said Gösta, his expression dubious.
‘Yes. So we’d better get out there as fast as we can.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re going out there if somebody’s shooting,’ said Kristina, putting her hands on her hips.
‘Of course we are. That’s my job,’ said Patrik, annoyed.
Kristina gave an offended snort, tossed her head, and went into the living room.
‘I’m coming with you,’ said Erica.
‘Not on your life.’
‘If Anna is there, I’m coming.’
Patrik shook his head. ‘There’s some lunatic shooting at people out there. No way I’m letting you come!’
‘The place will be crawling with police, so what could possibly happen? I’ll be perfectly safe.’ She began tying the laces on her white trainers.
‘And who’ll take care of the kids?’
‘I’m sure Kristina can stay here and mind them.’ She stood up and gave him a look that said it would do no good to protest.
On their way down to the boat, Erica felt her concern for her sister growing with every heartbeat. Patrik could sulk as much as he liked: Anna was her responsibility.
‘Pyttan? Where are you?’ Percy said in surprise as he walked through the flat. She hadn’t told him that she was going anywhere.
They’d come to Stockholm for a few days to attend a friend’s sixtieth birthday celebration, an event they didn’t think they could miss. Countless members of the Swedish aristocracy were bound to turn up for the occasion, along with some VIPs from the business world – although they weren’t necessarily considered VIPs at such gatherings. The hierarchy was firmly established, and being the CEO of one of the biggest corporations in Sweden counted for nothing if the individual in question didn’t have the proper background, the proper surname, and hadn’t attended the proper schools.
Percy met all of the above criteria. Until recently, he’d never given it a second thought. His social standing had been part of his life, something he took for granted. The problem was that he now risked becoming a count without a manor, and that would have dire consquences. He wouldn’t land as far down the social ladder as the nouveau riche, but he would definitely find himself demoted.
In the living room he stopped in front of the drinks cart to pour himself a tumbler of Mackmyra Preludium, which cost almost 5,000 kronor a bottle. If he had to resort to drinking Jim Beam whisky, he might as well take his father’s old Luger and shoot himself in the head.
What weighed on him most was the knowledge that he had failed his father. He was the eldest son and had always received preferential treatment. And the old man had never made any bones about it. In a matter-of-fact tone, without any show of emotion, he had told his two younger children, ‘Percy is special. He’s the one who will take over one day.’ Secretly Percy had felt a certain glee whenever the old man put his siblings in their place. It made up for the knowledge that his father considered him weak, timid, and spoiled rotten. Perhaps it was true that his mother had been overly protective towards him, but he had been born two months premature, so small and frail that he was not expected to survive. For the first and last time in his life, Percy had shown great resilience. Against all odds, he had lived, though his health remained fragile.
He gazed out across Karlaplan. The flat had a beautiful bay window facing the open square with the fountain. Holding his whisky glass, Percy watched the swarms of people below. In the winter, the square was deserted, but now the benches were fully occupied, and scores of children were playing, eating ice cream, and enjoying the sunshine.
He heard footsteps on the stairs and listened intently. Was that Pyttan? She’d probably nipped out to do some shopping; he only hoped that the bank hadn’t put a hold on their credit cards. What sort of society was he living in, anyway? Demanding an entire fortune in taxes. Those bloody communists. Percy tightened his grip on the whisky glass. Mary and Charles would relish his situation if they knew the extent of his financial problems. They were still spreading their lies about how he had evicted them from their home and robbed them of what was rightfully theirs.