‘Who interviewed Leo?’
‘Two colleagues from CID. One of them was called Bure, but I’ve forgotten the name of the other one. They were good, though.’ Arne looks amused, as if he’s trying to work out where she’s going with this.
‘And there was no doubt about Leo’s guilt? No suggestion that his confession might have been obtained under duress?’
Arne leans back even further, making the chair creak under his weight. He stares at her for a few seconds over the rim of his coffee cup, then breaks into a broad grin.
‘You must have read that book – False Confessions.’
‘I have – you’re familiar with it?’
‘Of course. The author actually came down here. He asked for and was given the whole case file, but when he wanted to speak to the detectives who’d interviewed Leo, that was a step too far. Lennartson asked me to explain as clearly as possible to the little hack that it would be best if he got the hell out of here.’
Arne laughs, as if the memory appeals to him.
‘Lennartson was a hard bastard, but the fact is that Bexell was on a fishing expedition. As I said, Bure and his colleague were good – very experienced. Old-school cops, admittedly, but they stuck to the rule book. More or less. Little Leo admitted everything. Told them exactly what he’d done to his stepsister and wept crocodile tears. There was also plenty of forensic evidence, so I can guarantee that Leo Rasmussen wasn’t unjustly convicted, if that’s what’s bothering you.’
‘You mean the cap badge and the hoof prints?’
‘Exactly.’ Arne nods, then frowns.
‘The children – David and the others – were interviewed together. Was that accepted practice?’
‘To be honest, I don’t remember. I think Lennartson interviewed them.’
He puts down his cup, digs out a tin of tobacco and tucks a plug beneath his upper lip. Pushes it into place with the tip of his tongue. The frown lines have deepened.
‘Lasse Svart changed his statement the day after Erik Nyberg found the cap badge,’ Thea says. ‘Why do you think he did that? Surely people like Lasse didn’t usually talk to the police?’
Arne shrugs. ‘I’ve no idea. I guess he was suffering from a guilty conscience. Didn’t want to protect his daughter’s killer. That business of honour among thieves is often overstated, in my experience.’
‘And then he disappeared. Left Svartgården in a hurry and took Lola and Eva-Britt with him.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Didn’t anyone look for him?’
‘Of course they did. Lasse was called as a witness at the trial and didn’t turn up, so we spent a while trying to find him, but then the judge decided his testimony wasn’t crucial. Leo had already admitted that the information Lasse had given was true. I think they might have gone to Finland; both Lasse and Eva-Britt had family there. The two of them were actually distantly related – typical gypsies.’
The word makes Thea lose most of the warmth she was feeling towards him.
‘You seem to know a hell of a lot about the case,’ he goes on. ‘Details that can’t have been in the book.’
She considers lying, but decides against it. ‘I’ve read the case file.’
‘Have you now.’ Arne’s eyes narrow a fraction. ‘And why, if I may ask? Why are you interested in a thirty-year-old murder case?’
‘Because it’s about David. Because I don’t think he’s ever really got over what happened. What he witnessed.’
She’s been expecting the question, and has had time to prepare her answer. Plus it’s true, or at least it was to begin with.
‘Did you know that Elita was pregnant?’ she asks in order to regain the initiative.
Arne remains silent for a few seconds too long.
‘What gives you that idea?’
‘I think the information was in the case file, but someone removed it. There’s a page missing from the autopsy report. Someone took it out and altered the page numbers.’
He is very still for a moment, then he bursts out laughing. His reaction surprises her.
‘So just because there’s one page missing from the records, you know for sure that Elita was pregnant and that someone was trying to hide it? Don’t you think those are big conclusions to draw from one missing piece of paper, Sherlock?’
‘Her medical records are also gone. They’re not in the county archive.’
‘Do forgive me. Two missing pieces of paper.’
Arne has a point, she reluctantly admits to herself. She’d really like to show him the case file, the shadows of the Tippex and the thin line across the page, but she doubts if that would be enough to convince him. Instead she presses on.
‘There’s something else that’s been bothering me. David and the other children talked about dancing to music they’d recorded, and Elita had cassette tapes in her desk – but there’s no mention of a tape player being found at the crime scene.’
Arne’s expression doesn’t change, but a slight twitch of his upper lip gives him away. He quickly rubs his fingers over his moustache as if to hide his reaction.
‘I don’t remember. It’s a very long time ago.’
A lie, she’s almost sure of it. Arne clears his throat, leans across the kitchen table and adopts a warm, fatherly tone.
‘This is what happened, Thea. Elita took the kids to the stone circle. She got them to dance and sing. Then Leo turned up on his horse and scared the shit out of them. He smashed Elita’s skull with a rock and left the body on the sacrificial stone, probably because she’d asked him to do it. I assume you’ve read her letter.’
She nods, is about to say that the letter could be interpreted in more than one way, but Arne hasn’t finished.
‘And as far as evidence goes, apart from the fact that David and his friends unanimously identified Leo, we know that he rode there on a horse from Svartgården. Lasse found it in the forest, muddy and exhausted, and the technicians matched its hoof prints with those at the scene. It was Leo who killed Elita – I have no doubt about that whatsoever.’
‘You’re not concerned about inconsistencies in the story? Items that weren’t found? The tape player, the masks . . .’
‘The masks?’
‘Yes, the children said they were wearing animal masks when they were dancing, but they’re not listed among the evidence either.’
Arne shrugs. ‘Maybe the forensic technicians didn’t think it was worth including them. Maybe the kids took them home, how the fuck should I know. What I do know, however, is that if you pick out individual details from a bigger picture and put them back together, you can make strange patterns. That’s how all conspiracy theories work.’
‘And what about the family disappearing without a trace the day after the funeral? Don’t you think that’s weird?’ Thea has the bit between her teeth now.
Arne sighs heavily.
‘Listen to me. Lasse Svart was a nasty piece of work who’d been in and out of prison for half his life. We were taking a closer look at all his “business affairs”, and he’d been given notice to quit Svartgården even before Leo killed Elita. It’s hardly surprising that he took off as soon as she was in the ground.’
‘Leaving everything behind? Clothes, medication . . .’
Arne leans back again. The chair makes its objections clear.
‘You are well-informed, aren’t you?’ He stares at her in silence. ‘Have you been out there? To Svartgården?’
She thinks about lying, but realises it’s too late.
‘Yes. I was there the other day.’
He slowly strokes his moustache. He doesn’t even look surprised.
‘A piece of good advice from Uncle Arne, Thea. Stop running around asking questions. David is like my kid brother. I care about him – about both of you. If you start digging, you never know what kind of shit you might find, if you understand me. Hang on.’