The boy didn’t seem to have heard what she said. His hand continued to feel for her breast as he planted a series of little kisses on her throat.
The girl twisted out of his grasp and moved over to the rail.
“Slow down, I said. We’ve got all evening. Come and look at the view.”
He tried to put his arms around her again, but she slipped away.
“Look, Sandhamn. One of my classmates lives there. I went to stay with her last year. There’s lots going on there in the summer, but they did ask for ID to get into the club, even though there were tons of people in there who were obviously underage. Weird!”
The boy wasn’t interested in talking, but the girl carried on gazing toward the shore.
“I wonder if you can see Ebba’s house from the ship. It was in a fantastic spot by the water, right by the beach. Perfect for the summer.”
The boy pulled her close to kiss her again. His hands gently caressed the area around her navel, which was exposed by her cropped top, which didn’t even pretend to cover her stomach. His hands continued their journey upward once more, toward those soft, tempting breasts.
She saw the body falling down the port side of the ship just as his lips approached hers. At first, the sound of the engines prevented her from hearing anything.
The sound of the scream came when the body had already passed them.
“Robin,” she said, struggling to breathe. “Did you see that? Someone fell overboard!” Her eyes were wide open, and tears of shock began to glisten. “Someone just fell into the water. We need to report it!”
The boy looked at her, his expression doubtful. “To who? Are you sure it was a person?”
She stared at him, worried. “We have to report it to someone,” she said. “Anyone. They have to stop the ship and search for him!” She grabbed his hand. “Come on!”
He refused to move. Disbelief was written all over his face. Instead he attempted to pull her close again, trying to kiss her. “Forget it,” he said. “You’re imagining things. I’m sure it was nothing.”
She pulled away. “What if someone pushed him? What if we’ve just witnessed a murder?”
He ignored her protests. “It was probably a bird. Anyway, it’s too late to do anything now.”
His hands stroked her warm skin with even greater enthusiasm. He pressed his throbbing groin against her thigh.
“Come on,” he breathed in her ear. “Relax.”
She struggled halfheartedly for a few seconds more, then her body softened. She turned her mouth to meet his and forgot all about the person who had fallen overboard.
MONDAY, THE THIRD WEEK
CHAPTER 24
The boat from Stockholm was a few minutes late. It should have arrived at eleven o’clock, but there was no sign of it yet. The pier was packed with people in shorts and thin tops. Some had brought carts to transport luggage.
“When will Grandma and Grandpa be here?” Simon asked for the third time.
“Any minute now, sweetheart. As soon as the boat gets in.”
“I want ice cream,” Adam said, looking over at the kiosk where a long, snaking line had formed.
Nora shook her head. “Not now. We’ll be having lunch as soon as Grandma and Grandpa arrive. You’ll spoil your appetite if you have ice cream now.”
“But I want ice cream. Please, Mom.”
Simon joined in. “Me, too. Please. Please, please, please!” He looked at her, his hands joined in prayer.
Nora gazed out across the sound. No sign of the Cinderella. She wasn’t often delayed, but when it did happen, it was usually by quite some time. Nora gave in. It would take a while for everyone to disembark anyway.
“OK. But only a small one each. OK?”
Her voice was firm as she took out her wallet and gave Adam a fifty-kronor note.
“Don’t spend more than fifteen kronor. I’ll wait here for you.”
She sat down on a bench next to the bulletin board displaying timetables and looked around. The harbor was full of life. The truck from the Yacht Club restaurant was busy loading goods that had arrived on the morning boat. One of the island’s craftsmen puttered by on his platform moped, every inch crammed with sacks.
The fruit-and-vegetable stall had opened outside Westerberg’s grocery store. The tempting array of sun-ripened tomatoes and other vegetables lying side by side with melons and nectarines reminded Nora of a market in the south of France. At one side of the stall an elderly lady was practically standing on her head in the potato bin, skillfully picking out the smallest and finest new potatoes. She held them up one by one, carefully examining them in the sunlight before setting them in her bag. The girl behind the register rolled her eyes, but the customer ignored her.
A little girl waiting for her mother to finish shopping was gazing at the boxes of raspberries and strawberries packed closely together.
Idyllic, thought Nora. If it weren’t for the fact that people were being murdered on this island.
Just as the Cinderella docked at the landing stage, the boys came back clutching their ice cream.
Nora’s mother-in-law was elegantly dressed as usual, in white shorts and matching wedge-heeled espadrilles. She was wearing a white straw hat and looked as if she were going out for lunch on the Riviera rather than visiting her grandchildren in the archipelago. Nora’s father-in-law trailed behind, carrying their suitcase.
When Monica saw Nora, she put on an artificial smile. Then she spotted the boys.
“Darlings!” she shouted so loudly that everyone in the vicinity turned around. “Grandma’s sweethearts! My little angels!”
She took a step back and contemplated the ice cream with a critical expression. “Why are you eating ice cream now? I thought we were having lunch shortly? You’ll spoil your appetites. Did Mommy say you could have those?”
Nora suppressed a sigh and went over to greet her mother-in-law.
Monica kissed her on both cheeks in the French manner. What the hell is wrong with a good old Swedish hug? Nora thought. She greeted her father-in-law more warmly and offered to take the suitcase.
Lunch was waiting at home: gravlax with new potatoes. Dessert was a bought almond tart; she couldn’t be bothered to spend all morning preparing a meal for guests who had invited themselves. There was no point in making an effort anyway—her mother-in-law would simply tell one of her countless stories about all the dinner parties she had given in various embassies, where everything had been homemade by Monica herself in spite of the fact that she was catering for dozens of guests.
As a diversionary tactic, Nora had invited Signe to lunch. Not even Monica dared to tackle Signe. Those gentle eyes turned to ice-cold steel at the least attempt. Signe couldn’t bear anyone showing off. And she knew exactly why she had been invited; there had been no need for Nora to explain.
Monica looked at her daughter-in-law with curiosity shining in her eyes. She tucked a bony arm through Nora’s.
“I want to know all about these dreadful murders. What’s happening on this island? During all the years I’ve been coming here, I’ve never heard of anyone so much as hurting a fly. Is it some foreigner? I’m sure it is. We all know what they’re like.”