Did anyone actually know she was going to look up Laura? She had made the unforgivable mistake of not telling anyone she was coming here. This was her punishment for her lack of judgment, for not trusting her colleagues and keeping them in the dark regarding the photograph of Alice Hindersten.
She pulled herself up to her feet again and stood indecisive in the dark. Her right arm was dangling by her side. She didn’t want to think it was broken, perhaps it had only been pulled out of joint. She had heard a story about someone whose shoulder was constantly popping out of its socket and who had learned to pop it back in again, but she realized this was not the right situation for medical experiments. She had to be grateful she was still alive.
Driven by her will to get out of the basement she walked up the stairs again. It wasn’t so much the darkness that was frightening, nor the presence of the rats and a stinking corpse, but the feeling of imprisonment that made her increasingly panic-stricken. The darkness she could bear, the rats she could fight off, and she would get used to the smell of the corpse, but the captivity was intolerable.
She banged on the door.
“Laura! Let me out!” she screamed, astonished at how terrified and desperate she sounded. “I know it must have made you angry when I talked about your mother but I’m just curious. That’s all. We can talk about something else. Laura!”
She leaned against the door, breathed deeply, and tried to discern any sounds from the other side of the door.
“Laura! Listen to me!”
Not a sound. Not a sign that Laura had heard her. Lindell sank down on the uppermost step. She could hear the rats rustling in the woodpile. It appeared they had become more active since she had interrupted their macabre feast on Ulrik Hindersten’s remains. She assumed it was he who was packed in plastic.
What kind of a person can kill her own father and then set out on a murder spree? Or was it the case that Ulrik was the serial killer and that he, after committing the three murders had in turn been murdered by his daughter? Or by a third person?
Ulrik Hindersten had been reported missing at the end of September and judging by the stench the body had been there since that time.
The rats may not have found the body immediately but Lindell knew that once they had gotten a taste of the professor it wouldn’t take long until only the bones were left. Was it Laura’s intention that the rats should take care of the work of destroying the body?
During this time Laura had burned the entire contents of a household and had perhaps murdered three people. Now it was her turn. Would even she be left to rot and eaten by rats?
She banged on the door. It was still completely quiet inside the house. Lindell walked down the stairs. Had she missed anything? She was struck by the thought that perhaps there might have been a boarded-up window somewhere.
She groped her way along the corridor when the door was suddenly opened and light fell on the boxes that had braced her fall.
“You didn’t die,” she heard Laura say.
Lindell stood absolutely still and didn’t answer. She looked around for a weapon in the faint light, something to strike with. She wouldn’t hesitate for a second to use violence if only she could come closer to Laura.
“Don’t think I’m coming down,” Laura said. “I just wanted to tell you I’m leaving now to go see my man.”
Lindell walked out and placed herself at the foot of the stairs. Laura was standing in the doorway, lit from behind so that the light formed a halo around her dark hair. Lindell couldn’t help noticing how beautiful she was.
“You have to stay here, as a punishment. I wanted to confuse you, but I did not want you to come poking around here. That bitch who took my report at the police station treated me like dog shit. Do you understand? She sat there behind her desk and-”
“Are you talking about Åsa Lantz-Andersson?” Lindell said, breaking into her rapidly flowing speech.
“Is that her name? She’s such a nothing.”
Laura started to laugh.
“Why did you kill your father?”
“Oh, you found him, did you? I didn’t kill him. I strangled him.”
Her voice echoed in the basement.
“Did he abuse you?”
“You’ve already asked me that.”
“If that is the case then the repercussions will be much less severe. I’m sure you know that. Don’t make it worse now. You will not be able to get off entirely but someday will be able to live your life as you please.”
Lindell heard how hollow her words sounded but it was the only thing she could think of to get Laura thinking in a different direction.
“You must think I’m stupid.”
Lindell shook her head.
“On the contrary,” she said. “I think you’re a smart woman.”
Laura snorted.
“Tell me about your mother. Even if you don’t think so maybe I’ll understand. We are both single women. I have been thinking about you so much.”
The silence made Lindell sweat. This was the moment of judgment. Either Laura would slam the door shut or she would start to talk. She kept her hand on the door handle. Lindell thought the strip of light on the basement floor grew thinner.
“Laura,” she said and tried to keep her voice steady, “where does your rage come from?”
“I’ve grown up with the black death,” she said and Lindell didn’t know what she was talking about but hoped she would keep talking.
“Petrus Blomgren killed my mother, you know?”
“Indirectly, you mean?”
“He broke into her life. A farmer who thought he was some kind of Casanova. Do you realize how much pain he caused? He inserted a wedge in our lives, lured her away to Mallorca of all places, and then dumped her. He deserved to die, it’s that simple.”
“Jan-Elis Andersson, did he also deserve to die?”
“Did you find the chess piece?”
“We did,” Lindell said and felt as if the air in the basement was running out. “Why a chess piece?”
“My father and I used to play chess in the cottage. That was when he taught me everything I know about chess.”
“Which cottage?”
Laura told her about the only happy summer with Ulrik, when he was like a real father, and how Jan-Elis Andersson turned them out and put an end to the idyll.
“Why did you have to move?”
Ann was trying to keep Laura talking.
“He said he had to prepare the house for a relative but I know why he threw us out. He tried to feel me up. The second time I said I would tell Ulrik. That scared the old bastard.”
“But why the chess piece?”
“When I was throwing out Ulrik’s old things I found the chessboard and the box, and then when I drove out to Alsike I took a pawn with me. Like a reminder. A detail that was important to me. Did it confuse you?”
“Yes. We only found it today.”
“How careless you are.”
Lindell was prepared to agree. She thought of the photo at Blomgren’s house. If Fredriksson had found it the first time they would perhaps have had a chance of stopping the murders of Andersson and Palmblad.
“So there was no larger scheme involving chess?” she asked.
“Why would there be?”
Lindell couldn’t help feeling a certain measure of satisfaction. The chess theory had been plucked out of thin air. The threat against Queen Silvia was nonexistent.
“One of my colleagues had an idea,” Lindell said.
Could she make it up the steps before Laura had time to close and lock the door?
“So Laura,” she said and climbed a step at the same time, “why Palmblad?”
“Oh yes, ‘The Horse.’ Not that he looks like a horse anymore. It’s strange what the years can do. I hardly recognized him, but he recognized me.”
“Why was he an enemy?”