‘Relax. If those items are in the junk heap, they’ve been lying there for over thirty years. They’re not about to disappear overnight. And that’s no place to take the kids. I’ll ring him later, and if he has the stuff out there, we can drive over when you have a babysitter.’
Erica knew he was right, but she couldn’t shake off the sense there was something she ought to be doing.
‘How is she?’ asked Gösta, and it took a second for Erica to realize who he was talking about.
‘Ebba? She seems completely worn out. I had the feeling that, in spite of everything, she was relieved to get away from the island for a while.’
‘And away from Tobias.’
‘I think you’ve misjudged him, but you’re probably right. It’s just the two of them out there, and they seem to be getting on each other’s nerves. She’s interested in learning more about her family’s history, so when I get home and put the twins down for their nap, I thought I’d show her what I’ve found.’
‘I’m sure she would appreciate that. She has quite a colourful past.’
‘You can say that again.’ Erica drank the rest of her coffee. It had gone cold, and she grimaced. ‘By the way, I had a talk with Kjell at Bohusläningen. He gave me some background information on John Holm.’ She briefed Gösta on the family tragedy that had set Holm on such a hateful path. She also told him about the note that she’d found. She hadn’t dared mention it to Gösta before.
‘Gimle? I have no idea what it means. There’s nothing to suggest that it’s connected with Valö.’
‘I know, but it might have made him nervous enough to get someone to break into our home,’ she said before she could stop herself.
‘Someone broke in? What does Patrik say about that?’
Erica didn’t reply, and Gösta stared at her.
‘You haven’t told him?’ His voice rose to a falsetto. ‘How certain are you that Holm and his followers are behind it?’
‘I’m only guessing, and it’s really no big deal. Someone got in through the veranda door and snooped around in my work room. They tried to log in to my computer, without success. Thankfully they didn’t steal my hard drive.’
‘Patrik will go berserk when he finds out. And if he hears that I knew about it and didn’t tell him, he’s going to be furious with me too.’
Erica sighed. ‘I’ll tell him. But the interesting part is that I appear to have something in my work room that’s valuable enough to risk breaking in. And I reckon it’s that note.’
‘Would John Holm really go to such lengths? The Friends of Sweden have a lot to lose if it got out that he’d broken into a policeman’s home.’
‘It might be important enough. But I’ve given the note to Kjell, so it’s up to him to work out what it means.’
‘Good,’ said Gösta. ‘Now promise me you’ll tell Patrik about it when he gets home tonight. Otherwise I’ll be in trouble too.’
‘Okay, okay,’ she said wearily. She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation, but it had to be done.
Gösta shook his head. ‘I wonder whether Patrik and Paula will find out anything in Göteborg. I’m beginning to feel a little discouraged.’
‘We can always hope that Junk-Olle will have something to tell us,’ said Erica, happy to change the subject.
‘We can always hope,’ agreed Gösta.
ST JÖRGEN HOSPITAL 1936
‘We consider it unlikely that your mother will be released anytime soon,’ said Dr Jansson. He was a white-haired man in late middle-age with a beard that made him resemble Santa Claus.
Laura sighed with relief. She had achieved a sense of order in her life now, with a good job and a new place to live. As one of Mrs Bergström’s lodgers on Galärbacken, she had only a small room, but it was all hers, and it was as nice as the dollhouse that had pride of place on the tall chest of drawers next to her bed. Life was much better without Dagmar. For three years her mother had been a patient at St Jörgen Hospital in Göteborg, and it was a relief not to have to worry about what trouble she might be getting into.
‘What exactly is wrong with my mother?’ she asked, trying to sound as if she cared.
She was nicely dressed, as always. She sat with her legs turned primly to one side, her handbag resting on her lap. Although she was only sixteen, she felt much older.
‘We haven’t been able to arrive at a specific diagnosis, but most likely she suffers from what we call delicate nerves. Unfortunately, the treatment has been unsuccessful. She still clings to her delusions about Hermann Göring. It’s not unusual for people with delicate nerves to develop fantasies about famous people.’
‘My mother has talked about him for as long as I can remember,’ said Laura.
The doctor gave her a sympathetic look.
‘From what I understand, you haven’t had an easy childhood. But you seem to be doing well. Not only do you have a pretty face, but you appear to be a very sensible young girl.’
‘I do what I can,’ she said shyly, but the bile rose up in her throat as images from her childhood came flooding in.
She hated not being able to control those thoughts. Normally she could suppress the memories of her mother and that dark, cramped flat with its stench of alcohol, which she’d never been able to erase, no matter how hard she scrubbed and cleaned. She had also buried the jeers of her classmates. No ugly words were hurled at her now. No one brought up the subject of her mother. Laura was respected for what she was: conscientious, proper, and meticulous in everything she undertook.
But still the fear remained. Fear that her mother would get out and ruin everything.
‘Would you like to see your mother? I can’t advise you to do so, but…’ Dr Jansson threw out his hands.
‘Oh, no, I think it’s best that I don’t. My mother always gets so… upset.’ Laura remembered every word that Dagmar had flung at her during that first visit. She had called her daughter such vile names that Laura couldn’t bear to repeat them. Dr Jansson obviously hadn’t forgotten either.
‘I think that’s a wise decision. We try to keep Dagmar calm.’
‘I hope you’re not letting my mother read the newspapers.’
‘No, after what happened, she does not have access to any papers.’ He shook his head emphatically.
Laura nodded. Two years ago the hospital had phoned her to say that Dagmar had read a newspaper report that Göring had moved the earthly remains of his wife Carin to Karinhall, his estate in Germany. He had also erected a memorial in her honour. Dagmar had flown into a rage, completely destroying her room and injuring one of the nurses so badly that he required stitches.
‘You’ll keep me informed if anything changes, won’t you?’ Laura said, standing up. She held her gloves in her left hand as she held out her right to bid the doctor goodbye.
As she turned and left the doctor’s office, a smile played over her lips. For now, at least, she was free.
Chapter Eighteen
They were approaching Torp, just north of Uddevalla, when they got caught in a traffic jam. Patrik had to slow down, and Paula kept shifting position, trying to get comfortable in the passenger seat.
He glanced at his colleague with concern. ‘Do you really feel like driving to Göteborg and back?’
‘Of course. And don’t you start worrying too. There are enough people worrying about me at the moment.’