Nora never got used to the way Monica scattered her prejudices around as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Patiently, she tried to explain that she didn’t really know much more than what was in the newspapers. Which Monica had no doubt read from cover to cover.
But Monica wasn’t about to give up that easily. “That stylish friend of yours with the police . . . Torben. I’m sure he knows what’s going on?”
“Thomas,” Nora corrected her.
Monica carried on regardless. “He must be well informed. Do you think there might be some big gang behind it all? You are locking the doors at night, I presume?”
She looked at Simon and Adam, who were busy finishing their ice cream. Adam’s shirt was already stained with chocolate. Nora swallowed her annoyance and decided she’d change his clothes when they got home.
“Is it a good idea to have the boys here when the police haven’t cleared up these murders?” Monica went on. “You need to put the children’s safety first, Nora.”
Without waiting for a response, she adjusted her hat and embarked on a long story about a break-in at a good friend’s house down in Båstad, which the police had failed to solve.
The point of the story was unclear, and Nora was merely required to nod from time to time. It seemed like a small price to pay to avoid an argument.
CHAPTER 25
After almost ten hours of door-to-door inquiries, Thomas came by on Monday evening to see how Nora was doing.
He had decided to stay on the island and spend the night at the local station, which meant he could take the first boat back to Stockholm on Tuesday morning, when the whole team would gather for a meeting.
He opened the door as he knocked and walked straight into the kitchen without waiting for an answer. Nora was busy making dinner.
She greeted him with a wan smile.
Nora and the boys had just waved her in-laws off from the jetty. Henrik wasn’t expected back until later. Thomas was welcome to stay and eat with them as long as he was prepared to listen to a tirade about her mother-in-law. She handed him a cold beer and poured herself a glass of wine. He sat down at the kitchen table as Nora ranted about Monica.
When she had calmed down, she fetched a piece of paper with a long list of names on it. She sat down beside Thomas and explained what she had done.
“I’ve made you a list. I went through the Sandhamn phone book yesterday and looked for subscribers with the initials G and A—the initials that were on that net needle, the one you didn’t think you’d be able to identify. There are fifty-four people on the list, but only three who have both initials.”
Thomas smiled. “Nora Linde, master detective?”
Nora glared at him. “I’m only trying to help.”
“I’m joking. I need all the help I can get. Margit’s off on a vacation to the west coast, so she’s running the investigation by remote control. Most of the people I need to talk to have already left, and Kalle and Erik have their hands full trying to track down witnesses.”
“I think the problem will be locating them,” Nora said, taking a sip of her wine. “There are no addresses on the island that can be linked to the names.”
Thomas put his hands behind his head and gave the matter some thought. Nora’s list was a good idea. He should have thought of it himself, instead of just dismissing the net needle. Especially now that he had a murder investigation on his hands. The question was how to find the people Nora had identified.
The buildings on Sandhamn were mainly in the village itself, and in Trouville on the southeastern side of the island, where most of the summer cottages lay. But there were also a considerable number of houses dotted around the rest of the island, so you could find residential properties just about anywhere, with no designated street names. There were also plenty of unnamed alleyways and historical indicators such as Mangelbacken or Adolf Square, places that were often named after someone who had lived or worked in a particular place. If you put it all together, it added up to a distinct lack of specific addresses. They could call the numbers on the list but would lose the ability to show the photograph of Kicki.
Thomas finished off his beer. He needed some sustenance before he gave the problem further thought.
A few hours later they were sitting in the garden drinking coffee. They had eaten fresh pasta mixed with grated Parmesan, halved cherry tomatoes, and basil. Homemade focaccia with black olives had tasted deliciously fresh after five minutes in the microwave, and the bottle of Rioja had gone down well.
The boys had fallen asleep right after dinner. Long, sunny days and lots of swimming caught up with them in the evenings. Although they had insisted they weren’t the least bit sleepy, they had dropped off in seconds. The fact that their grandmother had been at them all day might well have contributed to their exhaustion, too.
Thomas had read them a long bedtime story. Adam had been quick to point out that it was only Simon who needed a story. He himself was ten years old and perfectly capable of reading his own story. However, that hadn’t stopped him from listening with great interest.
Since Emily died, Thomas had spent more time than ever with Simon, who was very fond of his godfather. He seemed to understand that Thomas was deeply affected by grief, even if he never talked about it.
“Have you heard from Pernilla lately?” Nora asked tentatively.
“Not much. I got a postcard from Halmstad midsummer, but that’s the only sign of life I’ve had from her in months.”
“Do you miss her?”
Thomas rested his chin on one hand, his eyes fixed on some distant point. It was a little while before he answered. “I miss the life we had together. The company, the feeling that we were a couple. Little things like knowing someone cares if you’re home late from work. Sometimes I feel as if I might as well move in to the police station.” He lifted his cup halfway to his mouth, and a shadow passed across his face. “After all, nobody would even notice if I didn’t come home. Maybe I should get a dog.”
“Do you often think about what happened?” Nora couldn’t stop the tears springing to her eyes. She had taken Emily’s death almost as hard as Thomas. The thought of finding your little girl cold and dead beside you when you woke was unbearable.
She swallowed quickly and drank some of her wine to prevent the tears from falling.
Thomas didn’t appear to have noticed anything. He carried on talking, almost to himself. “Sometimes I wonder what Emily would look like if she were alive today. I can still see her as a baby, but she’d be a little girl now, walking and talking.” He shook his head. “Emily was never meant to grow up.” His voice thickened slightly. He took a sip of his coffee, then another. “I envy you when I see your boys. They’re terrific. Simon’s great.”
Nora placed a consoling hand over his. “You’ll get another chance to have a family of your own. Trust me, you’re a real catch. You’re bound to meet someone new and have children.”
Thomas gave a wry smile, then shrugged. “At the moment it doesn’t seem all that important. I’m happy with my own company. I get by. And you and your family have been a great support for me, just so you know. I really do appreciate it.”