‘So that case stood out for you?’
‘Too right. I’d give anything to know what happened on that night before Easter.’
‘I’m sure you’re not alone in that,’ interjected Annika.
‘And now Ebba is back.’ Gösta rubbed his chin. ‘And somebody tried to burn the place down.’
‘Not just the house,’ said Patrik. ‘Whoever lit that fire must have known, maybe even counted on the fact, Ebba and her husband were asleep inside. It was sheer luck that Tobias woke up and was able to put out the fire.’
‘A bizarre coincidence, no doubt about it,’ said Martin.
He jumped when Gösta slammed his fist on the table.
‘It’s no coincidence!’
His colleagues stared at him in surprise, and a stunned silence descended over the kitchen.
‘Maybe we ought to take a look at the old case,’ Patrik said at last. ‘Just to be sure.’
‘I can show you what we have,’ said Gösta. His gaunt, greyhound-like face had regained its eager expression. ‘Every so often I take out the files and go through them again, so I can easily dig them out.’
‘Okay, do that. Then we’ll help you review the evidence. Maybe we’ll come up with something new if we approach the case with fresh eyes. Annika, could you get out everything you can find in the files about Ebba?’
‘Leave it to me,’ she said as she began clearing the table.
‘We should probably also check out the finances of Mr and Mrs Stark. And see whether the house on Valö is insured,’ said Martin, casting a cautious glance at Gösta.
‘Are you saying they did it themselves? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. They were inside when the house started to burn, and it was Ebba’s husband who put out the fire.’
‘It’s still worth investigating. Who knows, maybe he set the fire but then had regrets. I’ll make a few enquiries.’
Gösta opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind and stomped out of the kitchen.
Patrik stood up. ‘I think Erica has quite a bit of information too.’
‘Erica? Why’s that?’ Martin stopped mid-stride.
‘She’s been interested in the case for a long time. It’s a story that everybody in Fjällbacka knows, and considering what Erica writes about, it’s understandable that she would take a keen interest.’
‘So find out what she knows. The more information, the better.’
Patrik nodded, although he was feeling a bit hesitant. He knew what would happen if he allowed Erica to get involved in the investigation.
‘Sure, I’ll have a talk with her,’ he said, hoping that this wouldn’t be a decision he’d come to regret.
Percy’s hand trembled slightly as he poured two glasses of his best cognac. He handed one of them to his wife.
‘I simply don’t understand what they’re thinking.’ Pyttan downed her drink in several swift gulps.
‘Grandfather would be turning over in his grave if he knew about this.’
‘You’ve got to solve this somehow, Percy.’ She held out her glass, and he didn’t hesitate to refill it. It was still only early afternoon, but somewhere in the world it was past five o’clock. And if ever there was a day that called for strong drinks, this was it.
‘Me? What am I supposed to do?’ His voice rose to a falsetto, and he was shaking so badly that half the cognac splashed over the rim of Pyttan’s glass.
She pulled her hand away. ‘Watch what you’re doing, you idiot!’
‘Sorry. I’m sorry.’ Percy sank down on to one of the big, worn armchairs in the library. They heard a ripping sound, and he realized that the upholstery had split. ‘Bloody hell!’
He jumped up and began kicking the chair in rage. All around him everything was falling apart. The whole manor was on the verge of collapse, his inheritance had been used up long ago, and now these revenue agency bastards were claiming he had to fork over a large sum of money that he didn’t have.
‘Calm down.’ Pyttan wiped her hands on a napkin. ‘There must be some way to work this out. But I don’t understand how all the money can be gone.’
Percy turned to stare at her. He knew how frightening that thought was, but he felt nothing but scorn for her.
‘How all the money can be gone?’ he shouted. ‘Do you have any idea how much you spend each month? Have you no clue how much everything costs? All the travelling, the dinners, the clothes, handbags, shoes, jewellery, and God knows what else you buy?’
It wasn’t like Percy to shout in this way, and Pyttan shrank from him in alarm. Then she sat studying him for a while, and he knew her well enough to surmise that she was weighing her options: deciding whether to fight back or try to soothe him. When her expression abruptly softened, he knew that she’d decided on the latter.
‘Darling, let’s not start quarrelling about something as trivial as money.’ She straightened his tie and then tucked in his shirt, which had been pulled up out of his trousers. ‘All right. Now you look like my elegant lord of the manor again.’
She pressed close, and he felt himself starting to relent. She was wearing the Gucci dress today and, as usual, he was finding it hard to resist her.
‘Here’s what we’re going to do. You phone the accountant and go through the books again. Things can’t be that bad. I’m sure you’ll find it reassuring to discuss the situation with him.’
‘I need to talk to Sebastian,’ murmured Percy.
‘Sebastian?’ said Pyttan, wincing as if she’d swallowed something foul. She glanced up at Percy. ‘You know that I don’t like you spending time with that man. Because then I have to entertain his insipid wife. Those two simply have no class. I don’t care how much money he has, he’s an utter boor. I’ve heard rumours that the fraud authorities have been keeping an eye on him for a while. They’ve yet to come up with any proof, but it’s only a matter of time. We shouldn’t have anything to do with him.’
‘His money is as good as anyone else’s,’ said Percy.
He knew what the accountant was going to say. There was no money left. It was all gone, and in order to get himself out of this bind and to save Fygelsta, he needed capital. Sebastian was his only hope.
They had been taken to the hospital in Uddevalla, but everything seemed fine: there was no sign of residual smoke in their lungs. Now that the first shock had subsided, Ebba felt as though she’d awakened from a strange dream.
Finding herself squinting in the dim light as she sat at her desk, she turned on the lamp. Now that it was summer, dusk crept in slowly, and she invariably sat straining her eyes for a while before realizing that she needed more light.
The angel she was working on was proving intractable, and she struggled to attach the loop. Tobias couldn’t understand why she made the jewellery by hand instead of having it manufactured in Thailand or China, especially now that a lot of orders were coming in via the web shop. But then the work wouldn’t seem as meaningful to her. She wanted to make each piece of jewellery by hand, put an equal amount of love into every necklace that she sent off. Weave into the angels her own sorrow and her own memories. Besides, she found it soothing to do this sort of work in the evenings, after spending a whole day painting and hammering and sawing. When she got up in the morning, every muscle ached, but while she worked on her jewellery, her body would relax.
‘I’ve locked up the house from top to bottom,’ said Tobias.
Ebba gave a start. She hadn’t heard him come in.
‘Damn it,’ she swore as the loop fell off, just as she had almost put it in place.
‘Don’t you think you should take a break from all that tonight?’ said Tobias cautiously, coming to stand behind her.
She could feel him hesitating about whether to put his hands on her shoulders or not. In the past, before what happened to Vincent, he would often massage her back, and she had loved his firm yet gentle touch. Now she could hardly stand to have him touch her, and there was a risk that she would instinctively shake off his hands and hurt his feelings, and then the distance between them would grow even greater.