A Nearly Normal Family(30)

Her eyes were cold as ice. It was clear that she meant what she said, and for the first time I thought perhaps she had been involved in the murder after all. Maybe there had been multiple killers? Maybe she had hired someone to do it?

“I’m not a bit surprised, either,” she said. “I’m sure he did the same thing to her.”

I tried to ignore my curiosity; I folded my hands and looked at her, but this time there was no continuation. Linda pursed her lips and let her gaze wander to the window.

“To whom?”

“Stella. The girl who did it.”

What did she mean by that? How did she know Stella’s name?

“She’s only a teenager. I guess she did what I should have done a long time ago.”

I couldn’t help the images that came to my mind. The glint of a knife, stabbing and stabbing; Christopher Olsen’s lovely smile twisting into a scream of pain. Dazed, I tried to erase Stella’s face from the scenes. It couldn’t be true.

“Why would you say that?” I managed to say.

“What?”

“Why do you think Stella did it?”

Linda looked at me in surprise.

“She’s the one who was arrested for it.”

“Do you know her?”

She shook her head.

“I hope she gets off.”

I was struck dumb. Could it be true that Christopher Olsen had attacked Stella, or victimized her somehow? If he had, why hadn’t she told the police? What if Stella was the true victim in this mess?

“How is Margaretha doing?” asked Linda Lokind.

I had sunk into my thoughts and didn’t respond.

“It must be terrible,” said Linda. “I liked Margaretha. Or at least I didn’t have anything against her. She was always nice to me. It’s not her fault that Chris is a psychopath.”

“No,” I said, although I was inwardly hesitant. Didn’t Margaretha bear some of the guilt? She was his mother, after all.

“What about Stanne? What does he say?”

I scratched the back of my neck. Who was she talking about?

“Stanislav?” Linda said.

Her eyes went sharp and narrow. I felt cornered.

“You said you represent the Olsen family. Don’t you know who Stanislav is?”

“Of course.”

Linda pushed back her chair and took a few hasty steps backward.

“Who are you, really? You never told me your name.”

“I didn’t?”

A name popped into my mind immediately, but I was reluctant to utter it. How many times can you allow yourself to lie? Sooner or later you’ll cross the line of decency and dignity, no matter how noble the purpose of the lie may seem.

“I want you to leave now,” said Linda.

She had backed up against the wall beside the large glass vase. She looked frightened, but there was still something wild in her eyes, something that seemed to border on madness.

“I’m leaving right now,” I said, hurrying past her. “Thanks for your time.”

She slipped over to the doorway to keep an eye on me. She held her phone in one raised hand, ready to make a call with a single push of a button.

I crouched down in the cramped hall to put on my shoes. I had tied one and was about to switch feet when my glance landed upon the shoe rack next to me. There must have been seven or eight pairs on it, but there was one in particular that captured my attention.

Fingers trembling, I managed to tie my other shoe, then stole another look at the rack.

No doubt about it—on the rack stood a pair of shoes identical to Stella’s. Might they even be the same size? The same shoe that had left the footprint at the scene of the crime. The same kind of shoe Christopher Olsen’s killer had been wearing.





28


I hurried through downtown, my thoughts buzzing like a nest of wasps. So Linda Lokind owned the very same brand and style of shoes as Stella. And that look in her eyes when she backed up against the wall. Distant and lost, but also full of rage. She had truly looked like someone who might suffer a fit of insanity. At the same time, her theory that Christopher Olsen had assaulted Stella ached in the back of my head. I couldn’t ignore the fact that this was a conceivable scenario. Had that bastard harmed Stella?

I walked faster, my steps falling so hard that they echoed off the asphalt. Not again. It couldn’t be true. At the same time, it wasn’t at all difficult to imagine Stella’s violent reaction, how she would fly into a crazy, blind rage; use a knife that happened to be at hand. But why? Outside the building, on a playground. And where had the knife come from? And why on earth wouldn’t she have told the truth to the police?

I considered consulting Ulrika about this line of reasoning, but I was afraid she would dismiss my ideas as fantasy and try to make me reconsider my actions. She seemed to have a completely different opinion about how we could best help Stella. I didn’t understand how she could trust Michael Blomberg so completely. He may have been extraordinarily qualified, and he was certainly capable, but it didn’t feel like he was sufficiently engaged. Why was Stella still in custody? And we still hadn’t been allowed to see her.

Instead I decided to talk to the police. This could not stand. Anyone could see that Linda Lokind would be able to provide knowledge in this investigation. Why was Stella locked up when Linda was the one who had motive?