She tore her gaze from the window and looked at Irene. To her vexation, Irene could hear herself stammer when she started to explain. “I. . I was also in a deep trance. . it’s possible that I wasn’t completely awake. . ” Irene tried to explain what she had seen. A trace of her former assurance glimmered in Eva’s violet blue eyes, and she said, almost mockingly, “You don’t want to believe in what you saw. It doesn’t matter. We managed to find out something very important.”
“What?”
“There was a place of darkness in Sten. And it was evil.”
Eva carefully felt the bump at the back of her head. “Do you think you could bring me a cold glass bottle or jar from the fridge? I need to ice this bump.”
Irene went into the kitchen and took a bottle of Ramlösa from the refrigerator. When she gave it to Eva, she asked, “What do you mean?”
“Wherever Sten may be now, he isn’t wandering around in heavenly pastures!” Eva remarked.
“Do you mean that he’s in hell?”
“No. There’s no place called hell. Do you know what hell is?” Eva looked at her with a steady gaze.
“No.”
“That everything is too late. You cannot change anything or make anything better. The person you have been during your life is also the person you will be after death. Nothing that you have said or done can be changed, and that will affect all of the people you have met and everyone who has been close to you long after your death. For generations, centuries. . yes, maybe for eternity. All religions want to offer you peace, and salvation from your sins, at least after death. The truth is that there can be no salvation from yourself.”
It took a while before the true meaning of the cantor’s words sank in. Eva placed the bottle on the coffee table.
“Now we’re going to go and pick up the kitty.”
IRENE DROVE along the wet, bumpy gravel roads as Eva directed her. Good friends of Eva’s had a cat that had been on the prowl unusually early this spring. The kittens were still maybe a bit too small to be separated from their mother, but they were pretty much weaned. Since its new family was familiar with cats, this wouldn’t be a major problem.
“That’s where they live,” Eva said, pointing at a small farm. Irene turned into in at the driveway and sent a sympathetic thought to her shock absorbers. She parked on the gravel drive, and Eva jumped out without asking if she wanting to come inside.
Everything looked very neat at this little farm. The main house itself was white stucco, in contrast to the well-kept Falu-red wooden outbuildings and the barn. All the flowerbeds around the house were newly dug up and ready for planting.
After a while, Eva came running through the rain. She was carrying a box in her arms. Irene opened the door for her so that she could jump inside. When she had the shoe box in her lap, Irene saw that Ecco was written on the lid, in which air holes had been punched. Eva carefully lifted it a crack and whispered, “Isn’t she cute? Her name is Felicia. Remember to tell the new family that they absolutely can’t change her name.”
Irene glimpsed a small, light apricot-colored ball of fur wrapped in a piece of terry cloth.
“Felicia,” she said aloud so that she wouldn’t forget.
FELICIA SLEPT in her box the whole way home to the row-house area. The rain stopped just as Irene turned in on Fiskebäcksvägen. The setting sun managed to peer out from under the banks of clouds and tinged their underbellies a glimmering golden red. It was a magnificent display of colors.
When Irene had parked the car, she walked directly to the Bernhögs’ door and rang the bell. Margit Bernhög opened the door a crack after the second ring. Irene tried to sound untroubled as she recited the litany she had practiced in the car.
“Hi, Margit. I was wondering if you would like to take care of little Felicia here. A friend of mine asked me to find her a new home with a cat lover. Otherwise they’ll have to put her to sleep, and that would be terribly sad.”
Margit Bernhög jerked at the last sentence and looked wide-eyed at Irene. Reluctantly, she lowered her eyes to the box. Irene lifted the lid and held the box out to her. At just that moment, Felicia woke up. She stretched her little fuzzy body and yawned so that her cute light-pink tongue stretched out. Margit carefully lifted up the sleepy kitten and gently burrowed her nose into her soft fur.
“So cute. . little Felicia. . thank you,” she stammered without looking at Irene.
She was totally absorbed in the apricot-colored furball. Then Felicia turned her head and met Irene’s eyes with her round violet-blue ones.
Chapter 11
”THAT’S A HELL OF a lot of drivel about Rebecka’s nerves!” Superintendent Andersson bellowed. He wasn’t at all pleased about the cancellation of Irene’s trip to London. “That Frog seems to be determined to delay her questioning,” he concluded angrily.
He marched around his office, upset, with strides as long as his short legs would allow. Irene sat in his visitor’s chair, waiting for the storm to blow over. Andersson stopped in front of his window and pretended to contemplate the view over Ernst Fontell’s Place through the thick layer of dirt. He took a few deep breaths and turned toward Irene again.
“I understand that she had a shock, and a serious one, when she got the news. That’s not surprising. But we need to speak with her in person. It’s a matter of her own safety! We don’t have the faintest idea about a motive. All we have are those damn Satanic stars.”
Irene was just about to correct him and start explaining what the pentagram stood for, but she came to her senses at the last moment. She would never be able to explain what had happened at Eva Möller’s. Truth be told, she still wasn’t sure herself.
The superintendent didn’t pay any particular attention to her silence. He continued, “Can she come to Sweden and the funeral without taking a risk, or do we need to protect her? We don’t know a damn thing! She must have some clue as to motive!”
Irene nodded and jumped in. “I agree with you. I’ll call Glen Thompson again and see what he has to say.”
“SHE SAYS she isn’t up to talking. I tried to speak with her, but she burst into tears.”
Inspector Glen Thompson had a deep voice. Irene tried to imagine what he looked like.
“I understand that you’re starting to feel pressured. As you said, you need a motive. . Is this tale of Satanic symbols true? There was something in our papers about it. . Your murders are spectacular, even by English standards.”
“Yes. Symbols were painted on two computer screens with the victims’ blood.”
“So what the newspapers wrote was true. The last time I met with Rebecka, I asked her if there had been any threats against the family from Satanists, but she just shook her head. Then she began crying. She’s very difficult to interview.”
“Naturally, the shock was tremendous-” Irene started, but he interrupted her.
“True, but she wasn’t well before, either. Psychologically speaking.”
“She wasn’t?”
“No. Dr. Fischer says that he has been treating her for depression since last September.”
Then Rebecka had had psychological problems before the murders. Her brother had been on sick leave during the fall for psychological problems after his divorce. That is to say, everyone assumed it was after the divorce. Was there a completely different reason? Her thoughts were interrupted by Thompson’s voice. “Maybe as a fellow Swede, you’ll have an easier time speaking with her.”
“I’ll have to make an attempt soon. We’re at a complete standstill in our investigation, since we have no motive. We still don’t know if Rebecka’s life is also in danger.”