“What do you mean by ‘foreign substances’?” Fredrik Stridh interrupted.
“Substances that are used during Satanic rituals. For example, smoke, different types of narcotics, alcohol, blood from sacrificial animals. There was a lot of blood, but all the blood at the crime scenes came from the victims.”
The investigators contemplated the surprising lack of evidence left by the murderer. Irene couldn’t explain how he had managed, as so much blood and tissue had to have splashed around the victims. Instead, she asked the technician another question. “Do you know for certain that the same weapon was used in all three murders?”
“Yes. All three were shot with the rifle which was lying under Mr. and Mrs. Schyttelius’s bed; and with the same type of ammunition, Norma 30–06. There are no fingerprints on the murder weapon.”
Svante gathered his papers together and returned them to his worn canvas bag. He rose, nodded, and disappeared through the door. The superintendent reclaimed his position in front of the audience.
“A man who lives a little farther down the road, right after the turnoff to the Schytteliuses’ cottage, phoned. When he was out walking his dog just before eleven on Monday night, he saw a dark-colored car parked on a forest road a little way off.”
Andersson turned on the overhead projector but didn’t bother pulling down the screen. A hand-drawn map in blue ink was projected onto the wall.
“Here’s the gravel road down to the Schytteliuses’ cottage. Here’s the cottage. The car was parked a little way down the next road. There aren’t any cottages along it, because it’s an old logging road. The technicians found some blurred tire tracks, but the sleet and rain the last few days washed away most of it. Footprints have been washed away by now as well.”
“Does he know what make the car was?” Hannu asked.
“No. He never went up to the car, just stopped on a path forty or fifty meters away from it. The dog was probably taking care of business. The man had a flashlight with him so he could see where he was walking, but the car was too far away for the flashlight to illuminate it enough to make out any details.”
Andersson pointed at the dotted line that wound its way in the opposite direction from the cottage.
“This is where the path goes. And the car was here. The witness thinks it was a smaller model car, possibly a small Mazda or something similar. It was either black, dark blue, or dark green. He thinks it had Swedish license plates.”
“But he isn’t completely certain?” said Irene.
“No. He saw the car at an angle from behind, and apparently it was parked next to a grove of spruce trees. According to him, it wasn’t visible from the main road. The car was impossible to see unless you walked in a short distance on the forest path.”
“So someone wanted to hide the car,” Irene concluded.
“Looks that way, yeah. I’ve measured on a real map and if you keep to the roads, it’s almost exactly a kilometer to walk from the car to the Schytteliuses’s cottage. The question about the shortest distance, as opposed to staying on the roads, is whether the undergrowth is too thick to allow someone to walk through the woods. If it’s possible, then it’s barely two hundred meters as the crow flies from the car to the cottage. Someone should take a closer look.”
Fredrik held up his hand and Irene slowly followed his lead. It was the thought of the reports that needed to be written and the piles of paper that. . She held her hand a little higher so the superintendent wouldn’t miss how interested she was in the navigable aspects of the terrain around Norssjön.
There was a knock at the door, and a head could be glimpsed through the opening. A female voice said, “Telephone for Huss. It’s about the pastors’ murders.”
The door closed again and Irene got up and went to her office. The call was put through, and to her surprise Louise Måårdh was on the other end of the line. Louise went straight to the point: “I’ve read the papers about the symbols that were written in blood. What are they called. .? Pentagrams! It struck me that I’ve actually seen one of those symbols recently. Namely, in Eva Möller’s car.”
If she listened for Irene’s reaction, she was probably disappointed. Even if Irene was surprised, her voice didn’t reveal anything. “In Eva Möller’s car? Where?” was all she said.
“The gearshift. She has one of those pentagrams on the knob.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ve ridden with her several times to church choir rehearsals. She drives past our house, and I usually catch a ride with her when the weather is bad. After Christmas, I noticed that knob, and I asked her why she had traded the old one in for this strange one and she laughed and said it was a Christmas present.”
“What does this knob look like?”
“The knob itself is black, and the pentagram is silver.”
“Thanks a lot. I’ll speak with her.”
When Irene had hung up the phone, she stared blankly in front of her as the thoughts swirled around in her head. A gearshift knob with a pentagram on it? Maybe Eva Möller didn’t know what kind of symbol she was driving around with? But the chances of her not knowing were slight. For the first time, they had gotten a lead on a possible Satanic link to the Schyttelius family but this lead had led to a most unexpected place.
TOMMY SWEPT by in the corridor with a cheerful “Things are starting to move in the Speedy murder case!”
Irene vaguely wondered why he had a video camera in tow but when Fredrik came steaming in with the car keys jingling in his hand, she lost her train of thought. She would have to get going if she was going to keep up with Inspector Stridh.
They drove out toward Boråsvägen. Irene said, “Eva Möller can’t meet with us until one o’clock. Apparently she’s also a music teacher and has lessons until then.”
“Should we eat lunch before, or after?”
“Before. It will buy us some time.”
Irene had the directions to Eva Möller’s cottage in her pocket. She had been surprised when she realized that the cantor lived alone in a house in the middle of the woods. To get there, one had to drive toward Landvetter Church and then wind one’s way on some smaller roads. “I’m right out in the middle of nowhere,” Eva had said.
They turned off what was now the familiar road to Norssjön, but this time they didn’t turn at the little wooden sign with the faded text “Luck Cottage”; they continued a few hundred meters further until they came to the forest road. There was no sign here. Fredrik slowed down and drove onto a narrow road, more like a wide lane. The car lurched over the deep ruts and holes.
“It wouldn’t be easy to drive in here, even with a small car,” Fredrik noted after the Saab’s chassis had bottomed out on the rough road.
The forest stood thick around them on both sides. Tall pines, planted several decades ago at a disciplined distance, now had a tangle of undergrowth between them. Whoever owned the forest hadn’t been looking after it properly. Yet a bit farther on, Irene could see that the trees opened up, revealing some deforestation.
The beautiful weather of yesterday still held. When the wind was still, the silence was almost overwhelming. The sun rays fell through the tree trunks at an angle. There was a heavy scent of damp earth and of vegetation that had started coming to life in the first of the spring warmth.
“This must be it,” said Fredrik. He stopped a few meters in front of a group of spruce trees growing in a clump, creating an impassable wall.
Irene and Fredrik walked toward the spruces with their gazes fixed on the ground, tracing several old tire tracks from heavy vehicles but also a few barely noticeable ones from regular cars.
“Now we know why he parked here. It’s not possible to go any farther.” Fredrik pointed at the continuation of the road behind the spruce grove. There it descended into a deep hollow filled with water at the bottom. It was obvious that any car that drove down there would get stuck in the mud.