“There are a number of different theories. The most likely is that the final delivery of sandstone failed to arrive, and in the end the builders just couldn’t wait any longer, so they used what they could get ahold of locally—which happened to be more gray stone.”
“It’s incredible to think they could construct such a tall building in the middle of the archipelago without the technology we have today,” Nora said.
“Even more incredible when you bear in mind that the original drawing wasn’t even a proper plan; it was a beautiful watercolor.”
“There were no plans?” Signe asked, looking surprised. “I’ve never heard that before.”
“It’s true. We have a master mason called C. H. Walmstedt to thank for the way the lighthouse looks. He was the one who made sure it was built using the watercolor as a guide, but there were no technical specifications to speak of when they started.”
“Fantastic. Who would have thought it?” Nora was impressed.
Simon tugged at Nora’s hand. “Can we go back inside now? I want to go right up to the top.”
“Of course. Come on.”
They went in through the green door, and Simon clambered up the narrow iron steps, which led to an ornate walkway. This took up most of the space inside the lantern room, which wasn’t big—no more than two yards in diameter. There was glass from floor to ceiling, with a small air vent in the corner. There was only space for a few people at a time.
This wasn’t the place for anyone with vertigo, Nora thought.
“Wow! You can see Sandhamn from here,” Simon said. “Adam, look!” he shouted down.
In the middle of the lantern room was the new lamp, installed in 2000 when the lighthouse was relit.
“Simon, do you know why the lamp shines with a green glow?” Nora pointed to the prisms and the lens, which was covered with a piece of fabric.
Simon looked at her. “Because it’s a nice color?”
“No, sweetheart, it’s because the lighthouse is called Grönskär. Grön means green, so a green light is perfect. Green for Grönskär.”
After they had finished looking around the lighthouse and eaten their picnic, Nora decided to visit the little museum, which was housed in the old paraffin store. Her mother went with her, while the boys stayed with their grandfather and Signe.
As she stood leafing through the beautifully illustrated books, she recalled the conversation with Thomas and his colleague the other evening. They had talked about the rat poison that had been used to kill Kicki Berggren. She had kept meaning to ask her mother where she had bought the liquid rat poison they used to have at home, but recent events, not least the conversation with Henrik, had made her forget all about it.
The answer she got from her mother made her grab her cell phone right away. She had to tell Thomas at once.
CHAPTER 66
Thomas answered. He was sitting at his desk in the police station, surrounded by papers strewn all over. There was a mug of cold tea in front of him. Caller ID told him it was Nora.
“Guess what Mom told me,” she said. “The rat poison we had at home when I was little actually came from Sandhamn. She bought it in the old general store that used to be where the Divers Bar is now.”
“OK. So the poison we think killed Kicki Berggren used to be available on Sandhamn.”
“Exactly. The shop closed at the end of the seventies. Mom also said she still uses the same stuff if they ever get mice.”
“So that means the poison is still effective after more than twenty-five years.” Thomas leaned back in his chair, frowning. “Is that possible?”
“I’ve no idea. You should probably ask someone from Anticimex, but Mom says it works.”
Thomas tried to put his thoughts into words. “So if we assume the murderer bought the poison on Sandhamn, that could mean he’s had a house on the island for at least twenty-five years. He fell silent for a moment, then went on. “On the other hand, he could have gotten the poison just about anywhere. It must have been on sale everywhere.”
Fahlén had owned a house on Sandhamn for about fifteen years. Before that he had rented a place in Trouville for a long time. It had to be at least twenty-five years altogether. On the other hand, he was now in the hospital, possibly due to warfarin poisoning. But it was definitely worth following up.
He slid his notebook closer and jotted down a few notes.
“Thanks for calling, Nora. I’ll get someone to go through the property register again. It might be worth checking who’s owned a house on Sandhamn for more than twenty-five years; we might just come up with something interesting.”
He ended the call and went straight to Carina’s office. It looked considerably more personal than his own. A vase of blue-and-yellow summer flowers stood on the desk, with a big photograph of the family dog beside it. A selection of funny cartoons was pinned up on the bulletin board.
A feeling of loss came over Thomas, a longing for something cozy and homey instead of his own impersonal environment, where he barely left an impression.
He quickly explained why he was there and asked her to start as soon as she could.
She looked at him and hesitated. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Could we have lunch together?”
“Lunch?”
“It’s a meal people usually have in the middle of the day,” she said, half-serious, half-joking. “At around twelve o’clock, which is now. I thought we could go out.” She smiled. The pleading tone of voice gave her away, and she looked nervous. This wasn’t just a spur-of-the-moment suggestion.
Thomas was surprised; he didn’t really know what to say. He gave a slightly embarrassed laugh and looked at his watch. But then he suddenly felt almost lighthearted. Why not? It sounded like a really nice idea. “I’d like that. I just need to speak to Margit about something, then I’ll come back. Shall we say fifteen minutes?”
He got a beaming smile in return. “Great! We could go to Restaurant J. I think we deserve a good meal after all our hard work. What do you think? And it is Friday after all, so we ought to do something a little special.”
Thomas caught himself whistling as he walked down the hallway. He hadn’t done that for a long time.
They had decided that Margit would catch the afternoon train back to the west coast so she could spend the weekend with her family. She would rejoin the team on Monday morning.
The hospital had made it clear that there was no chance of speaking to Fahlén today. He was still unconscious following a major operation during the night. He had suffered a serious brain hemorrhage, and it was currently impossible to say what might have caused it. The police were welcome to call again in the evening but would have to be patient until then.
A brief call to Fahlén’s wife hadn’t made things any clearer. Sylvia had found him on the kitchen floor, but by then he had been unable to talk and had soon lost consciousness. She would come to the police station for a longer conversation as soon as she was able to leave the hospital.
Thomas quickly told Margit about Nora’s phone call. “If this leads anywhere, it would give us a significantly smaller circle of possible perpetrators. Someone who’s had a house on Sandhamn since the seventies, in which case they must be at least middle-aged.”