Watching You(88)

‘Bloody hell,’ Berger said.

They paused. Looked at the increasingly bizarre pattern on the board. Thought.

After a while Blom said: ‘When his dad came to fetch his sixteen-year-old son, he would have informed the mother, right? Unless he just took him?’

‘Good,’ Berger said. ‘We’ve got two different pictures of Nils Gundersen. The obvious one: the tough guy. Deserts the Foreign Legion to become a mercenary. Fights in Lebanon, Afghanistan, Iraq. Wanted for war crimes and for breaking international law. The less obvious picture is the dad who finds out he’s got a son, that the son is being bullied and having a hard time, and rescues him. Which of these two Gundersens did the mother, Stina Larsson, see? Probably the latter, don’t you think? The dad coming back to rescue his son?’

‘I agree,’ Blom said. ‘They probably had some degree of contact. In theory, Stina would have consented to the move.’

‘Which means that Stina’s sister, Alicia Anger over in Vendels?g?rden Care Home, might be able to tell us more.’

‘If we can find our way through the fog of language.’

‘It’s worth a try,’ Berger said, holding out his hand. It took a while before Blom placed her mobile phone in it.

‘Vendels?g?rden, Mia Arvidsson,’ a female voice answered.

‘Hello, Mia,’ Berger said. ‘I believe we spoke when I visited one of your patients, Alicia Anger, the other day.’

‘Possibly,’ Mia Arvidsson said drily. ‘Who am I speaking to?’

‘My name is … Charles Lindbergh. I’m the policeman who came to talk to Alicia yesterday I don’t know if you remember. I was wondering if it was possible to talk to her over the phone?’

‘Yes. And no.’

‘Can you expand on that?’

‘Yes, I remember. And no, it’s not possible to speak to her.’

‘I know communication can be a bit tricky …’

‘The communication difficulties I’m referring to are absolute,’ Mia Arvidsson said. ‘Alicia Anger is dead.’

Berger fell silent. Everything was silent.

Arvidsson went on: ‘The police have been here. They concluded that it was a natural but unconventional death. “A feeding error,” if I remember the phrase correctly.’

‘A … feeding error …?’

‘It’s difficult to describe,’ Mia Arvidsson said. ‘You’d almost have to see it for yourself.’

Berger reflected. Then he took a chance. ‘You don’t happen to have a picture?’

‘Yes,’ Mia Arvidsson said. ‘But it’s not something I have any intention of sharing.’

‘I’m a police officer. I’m not going to publish it.’

‘But the police have already got it …’

‘Not me,’ Berger said. ‘And I really do need to see it. Right away.’

He clearly heard the nurse sigh.

‘Have you got an email address?’ she asked.

Berger glanced towards Blom. She was already busy tapping at her computer. Then she turned the screen towards him and he read out an email address.

The email arrived three minutes later, to the newly created and very temporary email address. The picture showed Alicia Anger in her rocking chair in Vendels?g?rden Care Home. With the exception of one detail: she looked more peaceful than she had in life.

Out of her mouth hung a black sock, like a blackened tongue.

There was a caption as well, probably supplied by Mia Arvidsson: Given Mrs Anger’s eating habits and daily accidents at mealtimes, the likelihood that she simply mistook the sock for food and choked on it is so high that the case has been closed and written off as an accident.

Most likely a quote from the police report.

‘It could be true, of course,’ Blom said, looking at the grotesque picture. ‘She wasn’t exactly in full command of her faculties.’

‘Ingen ruaidh,’ Berger said. ‘Now “the red girl” is filling Odin’s horn with mead. But she was damn well murdered.’

‘By William?’ Blom said. ‘Why would he murder his own senile aunt?’

‘It happened this morning, apparently,’ Berger read. ‘So the day after Roy and Roger tracked us down. Are we really going to believe that’s a coincidence?’

‘His name’s Kent,’ Blom said. ‘And I’ve worked with Kent and Roy for a long time. I doubt they’d have murdered her.’

‘Even so, she wouldn’t have died if we hadn’t gone to see her,’ Berger said.

Then Blom’s secure mobile rang. It had never rung before. They both stared at it warily. Blom looked at the screen: Unknown. The story of her life.

Then she answered.

‘Yes?’

Berger was watching her. Her expression didn’t change; she just passed the phone to him without a word.

‘Yes?’

‘Sam,’ Deer’s unmistakable voice said. ‘We need to meet.’

‘Text messages aren’t good enough?’ Berger said.

‘The buttons on my backup mobile are too small. The bench on Norr M?larstrand in half an hour. OK?’

‘OK,’ Berger said. ‘Bring Syl.’

‘Syl?’ Deer said. ‘Why?’