The gate was open and the gap was wide enough to let a car through. There was a green tin letterbox with a name-tag. STROMBERG.
She turned towards Patrik.
'This is it. The cottage is by the water's edge.'
'Yeah.'
He sounded indifferent.
'How long are you going to sulk for?'
He didn't answer but walked along with her. The path leading to the house ran sharply downwards but after a short walk they could see the roof of a house. The rest of it was hidden behind a large shrubbery. Sibylla walked on, followed by Patrik. Once they'd turned the corner of the shrubbery the lake spread out in front of them. A jetty ran out into the water.
The view was stunningly beautiful. How could anyone be murdered in such a place as this? 'Are you looking for someone?'
Sibylla turned quickly. A woman was standing above them on the slope, next to a veranda on the lakeside of the house. She had to think of something to say, because it was obvious that she was on her own now. Patrik was drifting off in the general direction of the jetty.
The woman, who could have been in her mid-sixties, had been tidying the lawn but she put the rake away. She was limping a little as she took a few steps to meet Sibylla. They met in silence and Sibylla could feel a pulse beating at her temple. What next?
'Have you come to look at the cottage? I'm afraid the estate agent didn't say.'
Of course! They were prospective buyers. Sibylla smiled gratefully.
'Yes, we are. If you don't mind?' The woman smiled in response.
I see. I'm sorry if I sounded a little cross, but… you see, lots of people came here just because they're… curious. Anyway, lucky I was here.'
She cleared her throat, pulled off her gardening gloves and held out her hand.
'Pleased to meet you. My name is Stromberg. Gunvor Stromberg.' Sibylla took a fraction too long to answer. 'Sorry we were unexpected. I'm Margareta Lundgren.' They shook hands. Gunvor Stromberg's hand was warm and a little damp after wearing the glove, is that your son?'
They both looked towards Patrik's back. Sibylla laughed nervously.
'Absolutely. Yes.'
Patrik was throwing stones into the water. Sibylla's heart was beating too fast. He was so demonstratively unhelpful. How upset was he? Would he actually try to punish her?
'The jetty doesn't come with house, but we do have right of use. That's in the deeds. Actually, we use it more than anybody else.'
She fell silent, looking out over the water. Then she pulled herself together.
'I suppose you'd like to start indoors?'
Sibylla smiled.
'Please. Thank you.'
'What about the young man?'
Patrik was still throwing stones.
'Patrik, come along! We're going to look at the cottage.'
He didn't come at first. After throwing another stone, he started ambling back up from the jetty. Gunvor Stromberg smiled at Sibylla.
'Oh dear, it's such a difficult age, isn't it? I always felt that all you could do was let them get on with life on their own.'
Sibylla tried a smile of complicity. Damn his special age, whatever it was, she'd tell him a thing or two as soon as they were on their own.
Gunvor was walking ahead towards the house while Sibylla waited until Patrik joined her. When he was at whispering distance, she hissed at him.
'Get your fucking act together! She thinks we want to buy the place.'
He raised his eyebrows.
'Why don't you? You've got plenty stashed away, seemingly.'
He passed her on the path. This was the second time in one week that her money had angered and disappointed someone. Why did they take it out on her?
Gunvor was waiting for them and Sibylla hurried along. Meanwhile Patrik had introduced himself politely.
'Why don't you have a look around on your own? I'll be out here if you want me.'
After exchanging a quick glance, they climbed the stone steps to the front door.
'It's quite small but quite well equipped, I think you'll agree. The immersion heater is a little old though.'
Sibylla nodded and they stepped inside. The murderer must have come in this way once. After crossing a lobby, they were in a small kitchen. Everything was neat and well looked after. The atmosphere was cosy, familiar. Scruffy patches on the floor showed where kitchen chairs had been pulled up to and away from the table. The enamelled handle on the oven door had been partly worn away after years of use by hungry hands.
There was a faint odour of paint in the air.
Patrik had gone on to open the door of a closed room. In the doorway, he stopped and signalled to her. She came to stand next to him. The room was unfurnished and freshly painted white. Patrik produced one of his pieces of paper. Pointing, he spoke in a whisper.
'That's the wall.'
Sibylla looked at the bloodstained bed and read once more the killer's message, signed by her name. She wanted to get out, now.
Gunvor Stromberg had walked down to the jetty and stood there with her back to the house, staring out over the calm water of the lake. Sibylla felt she shouldn't disturb her. Patrik came alongside her.
'Go talk to her. I mean, it's not as if we've figured anything new yet. I'll stay here, just checking it out a bit more.'
He was right. Of course they couldn't just leave now.
Gunvor Stromberg did not acknowledge Sibylla's presence in any way. Only when Sibylla cleared her throat noisily did her companion take her eyes away from the lake and raise a hand to wipe her face.
Still Gunvor did not turn round.
'It's a very nice place, this.'
No reply. For a while they stood together without speaking. Sibylla thought that sooner or later the silence would force the other woman to say something.
Looking at the wonderful view, Sibylla realised that this was the place she had always dreamt of. The quiet seclusion, the lovely natural setting. Not that she would ever be able to afford something like this. Besides, soon she wouldn't be able to buy anything at all. Suddenly Gunvor spoke, turning towards Sibylla.
I suppose I'd better tell you myself, you'd only hear the rumours if I don't. You are not from round here, are you?' 'No, we're not.' 'I thought so.'
Sibylla took a few steps forward to stand closer to the distressed woman. Silence was still her best policy.
'Six days ago, my husband was murdered in this house.'
Unobserved, Sibylla still acted out a silent reaction of surprise.
'The murderer wasn't local, if you're worrying about that.'
Sibylla had glimpsed enough of her face to see the tears flowing down Gunvor's cheeks.
'Is that why you want to sell your cottage?'
Gunvor sobbed, shaking her head at the same time.
'No, no. We'd planned to sell, but maybe in the spring when the prices are better.'
She sheltered her face behind her right hand, as if to hide her crying from Sibylla.
'Soren had been ill for quite a long time. Cancer of the liver. Just over a year ago he had major surgery and it went better than we dared hope. They gave him a forty-four per cent chance of surviving.'
She was shaking her head now.
'I suppose I'd started hoping again. He was taking his medicines and had regular check-ups. Things seemed all right. Well, he was often tired, no wonder, but he didn't like not being able to do what he used to. We thought keeping the cottage might become too much and anyway, we could go travelling together with the money. After all, he mightn't… have that much time left.'
She stopped and Sibylla put her hand on Gunvor's shoulder Gunvor started sobbing again when she felt the light touch.
'We spent as much time here as we could. Drove here the moment we were free.'
'Maybe you prefer not to sell immediately?'
Gunvor shook her head.
'I don't want to stay here any more. I don't like going into that house.'
Suddenly the silence was shattered by a flourish on a trumpet. Sibylla took her hand away and looked around in bewilderment.