“I’d get next to nothing for that old wooden shack.”
Annika groaned.
“Well, sit there and moan then,” she said. “I think you just want to fail.”
Ingela poked at the door; two shots rang out.
“Old bastard!” she yelled.
Gustav reloaded and fired off two more shots.
“Have you never had a job?” Annika wondered.
Ingela sighed, her fingers playing distractedly with the sawdust on the floor.
“Oh yes,” she said, “with the home-care service in Hälleforsnäs. Although that was before the cuts. I was laid off in the rationalization program three years ago.”
“So why don’t you study for some kind of qualification?”
“I’d need a car for that, and I can’t afford one.”
“Speaking of cars,” said Annika, “do you hear what I hear?”
The sound of a Volvo engine was audible through the trees, rising and falling.
“Do you think it might be on its way here?” Ingela wondered.
Annika listened for a few seconds longer.
“Yep,” she said. “It’s almost here.”
The women crept over to the front of the shed, each peering through a gap in the planks. The blue-and-white estate car slowly materialized behind the screen of branches.
“It’s a police car!” Annika gasped.
“Yes!” whispered Ingela.
The car stopped by the path leading to the house. A man and a woman in uniform got out.
“Hansson and Pettersson from Katrineholm,” Annika said quietly. “I once went out on patrol with them when I was working on a news story.”
She watched the two officers walk slowly towards the house, and heard the woman say “Merry Christmas” and “What’s going on here, then?” in a loud voice.
Then she heard Gustav mumbling something in reply.
Quickly she shuffled over to the ruined door and peeped out. She saw the male officer walk up to the old man and take the gun away from him. She pushed the door open and stepped out into the daylight. Ingela Jönsson shot out behind her, shouting and screaming.
“He’s crazy, the old bastard’s crazy, he tried to kill us!”
The police officers looked over towards the woodshed in surprise. Old Gustav tried to wrench back the shotgun, yelling at the top of his voice.
“Damned wood thieves, damned rabble! You need your backsides peppered with lead, you damned...”
The police officers grabbed hold of the old man and pushed him into the backseat of the police car. Gustav protested loudly every step of the way, accompanied by the Sperm Bucket’s hysterical outpourings about what a bloodthirsty, murderous bastard he was. Annika felt the air go out of her; she suddenly felt faint with exhaustion and coldness.
“I’m going inside,” she said.
The kitchen was freezing cold; no doubt the walls were poorly insulated. Annika pushed a bundle of kindling into the stove, added some birch bark underneath, and lit it; it caught immediately. Quickly she pulled a chair over and sat down right next to the fire. Gradually her joints began to thaw out, and she added more wood.
Hansson, the policewoman, came into the kitchen.
“Hi there, Bengtzon,” she said, pulling up a chair. “What the hell’s been going on here?”
Annika sighed.
“Ingela Jönsson has been stealing wood from Gustav for a while; he lost it and started shooting at the woodshed.”
“We got a call from down in Hedberga saying that there was a hell of a lot of shooting going on up here in the forest,” said Hansson. She leaned forward and looked intently at Annika.
“Do you think he was intending to hit whoever was in the shed?”
Annika met her gaze.
“Definitely not,” she said. “If he’d wanted to hurt us, all he needed to do was open the door and shoot us dead. He just wanted to mark his territory.”
Hansson sighed, leaned back, and put her gloves down on the kitchen table.
“What a goddamn mess,” she said. “Ingela Jönsson is out there yelling about attempted murder and terrorism.”
“She’ll soon calm down,” said Annika, putting more wood on the fire.
The policewoman looked around the kitchen.
“Does the old man live here?” she said sceptically.
“Yep,” said Annika. “He sleeps on the sofa bed and gets a roaring fire going in the stove.”
“What a dump,” said Hansson in disgust. “Mouse droppings on the floor. And he didn’t smell too sweet, either.”
“Gustav’s good at keeping himself clean,” Annika protested. “He has a bath once a week in a big tub, right here in front of the stove. It’s just that things have been a bit difficult since the wood thief started turning up, that’s all.”
Hansson got to her feet.
“I’ll give social services a call,” she said.
Ingela and Blackie came in as the policewoman went out. The cat jumped up onto Annika’s knee, turned round and round several times, then settled down with the tip of her tail tucked under her chin. The women sat in silence side by side, slowly getting warm and allowing their adrenaline levels to fall.
“He’s not right in the head, is he?” said Ingela.
Annika didn’t reply, she just kept on stroking the cat, who had fallen asleep on her knee.
“Anyway, they’re bound to lock him up for this,” the wood thief went on smugly. “I suppose the question is whether he’ll ever come out. I should think the old bastard will peg it any day now.”
“One thing you need to know,” said Annika. “Gustav is the closest thing to a grandfather I’ve ever had. I love him.”
Only when she had said it did she realize it was true.
Ingela gritted her teeth but didn’t answer; she sat in silence for a few minutes.
“I’ve met someone,” she said eventually.
Annika raised her eyebrows.
“And?”
Ingela lowered her head.
“He actually likes me. He doesn’t know anything about... about that name you call me. He comes from Eskilstuna, he’s got an apartment there. He loves Hedberga, and he thinks my house is just charming. Particularly the open fire...”
The wood crackled — birch wood.
“Is it because of him?” Annika asked.
Ingela didn’t reply.
“Is that why you’ve been stealing wood?”
The woman closed her eyes.
“Maybe,” she said. “We like to make love in front of the fire. At the beginning I used to buy wood, but who can afford forty-five kronor a sack? Then they cut off the electricity, and I no longer had any choice.”
Annika could feel the rage mounting inside her once more.
“It didn’t occur to you that it might be a good idea to spread things out a bit more evenly, to steal from different places?”
The other woman shrugged her shoulders.
“I didn’t think it would matter to the old man. I mean, he’s got so much wood, and his eyesight isn’t so good. I didn’t think he’d notice anything. And wood’s heavy, you know! I couldn’t carry it very far, so I had to take it from someone who was close by.”
Annika didn’t reply; she was thinking with considerable distaste of the Sperm Bucket making love in front of her open fire, with Gustav’s wood providing the burning backdrop.
Suddenly heavy footsteps came marching up the steps.
“Hello there!” said a spirited voice from the doorway.
“Marja!” said Ingela, getting to her feet.
A sturdy woman in a hat and padded coat virtually filled the doorway leading into the kitchen; the policewoman was just visible behind her.
“Ingela!” said the sturdy woman. “It’s been a long time! How are you?”
The women greeted each other with obvious pleasure.
“Marja used to run the home-care service in Hälleforsnäs,” Ingela explained when Annika had shaken hands with the woman.