The Disappeared (50 page)

‘But you found some strands of hair as well,’ Fredrika said. ‘And they didn’t belong to Thea or Manfred either.’

‘Same applies. They came from the guy who cut the grass.’

As if he could read her thoughts, Ross said:

‘She
confessed
, remember. There was no reason to carry on digging.’

Fredrika ended the call. Thought about the flowers Thea received every Saturday. From her son. Thanking his mother for welcoming her back into his life. After she had stabbed his father to death.

Fredrika made another call, this time to the florist who delivered the flowers.

‘I have a question,’ she said after introducing herself. ‘Has anyone else, apart from me, called to ask who sends flowers to Thea Aldrin?’

‘Not recently.’

‘But in the past? Ever?’

There was a brief silence.

‘Actually, there was a girl who called a couple of years ago. She was desperate to find out who the flowers were from, but I couldn’t tell her.’

The florist began to laugh.

‘Sorry, but what’s so funny?’ Fredrika asked.

‘I was just thinking about how persistent she was. She came here several times, refused to give up. In the end I told her when the sender’s representative usually came in to pay, so she turned up then and stood waiting. But she didn’t speak to the woman after all.’

‘No?’

‘No, but she did follow her after she’d paid and left the shop.’

So Rebecca had played private detective, and followed Johan Aldrin’s secretary, who took care of the regular payment for the flowers. She had probably followed the secretary all the way back to the office, and realised who she worked for. Perhaps she had even recognised her; after all, Rebecca had visited her mentor at work.

How long had Rebecca’s research taken her? Had she realised who her lover was? Had she confronted him, demanded an explanation?

Fredrika searched her memory for details that might help her move forward.

Help me, Rebecca. Help me to see what you saw.

For the hundredth time, Fredrika placed the key events in the case in chronological order. The result was always the same. Rebecca had died because she got too close to the truth about the books and the snuff movie. And Morgan Axberger could not have worked out for himself how close she was. Therefore, he must have been fed the information from someone else, someone who knew more, and who also wanted Rebecca out of the way.

As far as Fredrika could see, that person had to be Johan Aldrin.

‘It’s not enough,’ Alex said when Fredrika went to see him.

‘Sorry?’

Alex looked exhausted.

‘You’ve got nothing. Nothing. Apart from circumstantial evidence. Weak circumstantial evidence. Why would Johan Aldrin tip off Morgan Axberger about Rebecca’s work in the
hope
that he would kill her? That just sounds completely . . . sick.’

Fredrika suppressed a sigh.

‘Alex, this
is
sick. In every respect. We have to dare to challenge our own hypotheses. Rebecca believed Thea was innocent because there were traces of another perpetrator in the place where Manfred was found dead. Traces that Torbjörn Ross admits they never bothered to follow up. I think Rebecca realised who was sending Thea flowers every week, and why that person always writes “Thank you” on the card.’

‘But we know that as well.’

‘No, we know what Johan Aldrin has chosen to tell us. But I think he sends the flowers to thank Thea for confessing to Manfred’s murder, when in fact it was Johan who killed him.’

‘But he was in Norway at the time, wasn’t he?’

‘How do we know that? He’s already told us that he visited Sweden before he moved back on a permanent basis. Why couldn’t he have been here when his father died? I think Rebecca came to the same conclusion, and that was why Johan Aldrin put Morgan Axberger in the picture – a man who had murdered before, and who didn’t seem to have a problem in dealing with that kind of dilemma. Johan Aldrin had just as much to gain from Rebecca’s disappearance as Axberger. But he was too weak to kill her himself, in spite of the fact that he had once killed his own father in a rage.’

Alex looked down at his scarred hands, resting on the desk. He knew what one mistake in an investigation could cost.

‘Prove it,’ he said. ‘The fact that Torbjörn Ross and the others were sloppy is not enough.’

‘If you bring Johan Aldrin in for questioning again and make sure you get his fingerprints and a DNA sample, I’ll go and talk to Thea Aldrin.’

Alex was bewildered.

‘For God’s sake, you’re as crazy as Peder. She doesn’t speak. And when it comes to fingerprints and DNA . . . I think the prosecutor might take some convincing.’

‘I can convince any prosecutor you like, because I know I’m right,’ Fredrika said. ‘And evidently Thea does speak to those who threaten to expose her son. And that is exactly what I intend to do.’

65

The care home at Mångården was just as quiet as it had been on her last visit. And Thea was just as silent. Fredrika felt sick as she walked into Thea’s room. Her thoughts turned to Jimmy, and the terrible fate that had befallen him. Memories of the funeral whirled through her mind; she would never forget the bottomless grief she had seen on the faces of Jimmy’s parents.

Bloody hell, I can’t think about that right now.

Fredrika felt a lump in her throat. Why were there so few stories with a happy ending in this world?

Thea was sitting in her chair, gazing out of the window. Just like the last time, but with a slight variation; today it was possible to detect a hint of relief on her face

Of course. Now that Morgan Axberger was dead, she no doubt assumed that her problems were over.

Fredrika pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her.

‘I read your stories about angels when I was a little girl,’ she said after a moment’s thought. ‘So did everybody else.’ She smiled. ‘It must be fantastic to know that you were one of the greatest writers back then.’

Thea didn’t move a muscle, but Fredrika saw her eyes change. The light was tempered with darkness. Once upon a time, Thea had had it all; now she had nothing left. Apart from her son. And he was a man who shunned the daylight at the moment.

‘I know you can talk,’ Fredrika said. ‘You spoke to my colleague Peder a little while ago. I’m sure you remember that?’

When Thea didn’t reply, Fredrika went on:

‘Anyway, I have a few more questions. It seems there are one or two gaps in our investigation.’

Good – that obviously worried Thea.

‘We believe that Morgan Axberger had some help when he murdered Rebecca Trolle. From Valter Lund. Your son, Johan Aldrin.’

The air was knocked out of Thea, who immediately opened her mouth. She sounded as if she was suffocating; the words stuck in her throat.

‘We’ve just brought him in. He’ll go down for a long time for this. I thought you’d want to know.’

It was all lies. Alex refused to pick up Johan Aldrin unless Fredrika presented him with solid evidence to prove that he was involved. He couldn’t be tried for the murder of his father even if Thea was acquitted at a later date. The crime was already beyond the statute of limitations.

Fredrika stood up. Astonishingly, Thea was on her feet in no time.

‘Please, it isn’t what you think.’

The sound of Thea’s voice made Fredrika freeze in mid-movement. Peder had been telling the truth when he said that Thea could speak.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No, no. He would never do such a thing.’

Thea was desperate; she grabbed hold of Fredrika’s arm.

‘You can’t do this.’

‘We can and we must,’ Fredrika replied. ‘Think about Rebecca Trolle’s mother. She has a right to know what happened to her daughter.’

Thea sank back into her chair, mumbling something that Fredrika couldn’t hear.

‘Manfred,’ Thea said. ‘It’s all his fault. If it hadn’t been for him . . .’

‘. . . you would never have had Johan. That’s true, isn’t it?’

All at once, Fredrika felt like bursting into tears. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand Thea, because she did. Was there anything she wouldn’t do for Saga? No. Nothing was more important than the wellbeing of her child.

Fredrika tensed, preparing to fire the final salvo.

‘We know that Johan was there the night Manfred died,’ she said. ‘Technology has moved on since then. We have evidence of both his fingerprints and his DNA at the scene of the crime.’

Another lie. They hadn’t yet managed to match either prints or DNA, but Fredrika knew what they would show when the tests were done.

So did Thea.

‘I was the one who murdered him.’

‘No, Thea,’ Fredrika said. ‘It wasn’t you. You took the knife from Johan, wiped off your son’s fingerprints, then grasped it yourself. So that we would think it was you and not Johan.’

‘You can’t prove that.’

‘Believe me, we can. We already have sufficient evidence.’

More lies.

‘You weren’t there,’ Thea whispered. ‘If he’d been your father . . . you would have done the same thing.’

Would she? Fredrika thought about a case the team had handled the previous year. Children did murder their parents, but it was rare.

‘What happened?’

Thea slumped in her chair.

‘He came back. My lovely Johan. I had known all along that he was alive, but I thought I would never see him again. Manfred turned up that same evening. He had no intention of staying away, even though I had had those disgusting books published and threatened to reveal the fact that he was the author. He swore he would say the opposite – that I had written the books. And that I had been involved in the making of the film, since it was shot in my parents’ summerhouse. The situation got out of control. Johan and I ran to the garage, intending to get in the car and drive away. But Manfred followed us. He was armed with a knife. Before I knew what had happened, he was lying on the floor. And Johan . . . Johan was just sitting there, staring into space. So I did what had to be done.’

‘And confessed to a crime you hadn’t committed?’

Thea nodded.

A clock on the wall struck four, and Fredrika Bergman felt a bitter satisfaction. Johan Aldrin had murdered his father. The situation had changed, this time to Fredrika’s advantage.

‘Rebecca Trolle,’ she said. ‘She was here just before she died.’

Thea nodded again.

‘How much did she know?’

Thea sighed deeply. ‘She had seen some of the old case notes, and was chattering on about the fact that the police seemed to have ignored evidence that might lead to a different perpetrator. She knew about the film too.’

Fredrika was lost for words as Thea went on:

‘If only she’d left it there, then perhaps everything might have ended differently. But then she spotted the flowers.’

She fell silent.

‘And the flowers led to an even more important secret, didn’t they?’ Fredrika said.

‘I saw her expression change when she read the card,’ Thea said. ‘She asked me straight out, wanted to know who was thanking me and for what. I didn’t reply, of course, but it didn’t matter. She was already lost in her own thoughts, and I knew she wouldn’t give up until she worked out who had sent the flowers. But that couldn’t be allowed to happen, so I contacted Morgan and . . .’

Silence settled over the room. Fredrika grew impatient. Thea couldn’t stop speaking now they were so close to the end.

‘And?’ she prompted.

Thea was whispering now.

‘And I told him that the girl knew too much. I made him believe he would be found out if he didn’t act.’

‘How did you contact him?’

Thea was annoyed, in spite of her weariness.

‘I am fully mobile, actually, and as you are aware there is nothing wrong with my ability to speak. I called him one night when everyone was asleep.’

It was only then that Fredrika noticed the telephone on the wall of Thea’s room.

‘Ridiculous, isn’t it?’ Thea said, nodding at the phone. ‘But apparently there has to be a phone in every room, and since I am on the waiting list for one of the larger rooms at the other end of the building, they didn’t bother taking it out. I imagine they thought the odds on the next occupant of this room being unable to speak as well were pretty long.’

Fredrika thought things over. Would the information Thea had given be enough to get her convicted of incitement to murder?

‘Although if we have understood the situation correctly, Morgan had already been warned of the approaching danger,’ she said after a moment.

‘I don’t think so. Who would have warned him?’

‘Your son. Johan.’

Thea shook her head.

‘That’s not what happened.’

Once again, she was protecting her son, taking responsibility for his actions. Thea was starting to look very tired. Fredrika didn’t have much time to ask more questions.

‘You knew that Morgan Axberger was involved in the film that was shot in your parents’ summerhouse?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did you find out?’

‘Manfred told me when he came back the first time. He laughed at me because I’d rejected him, but thought Morgan was a friend.’

Of course,
Fredrika thought. Why didn’t I realise that before?

‘Was that when The Guardian Angels broke up?’

‘Yes.’

Fredrika was struck by another thought.

‘Why did you have Manfred’s manuscripts published?’

‘He took the film with him the night he left. When he came back the first time, all I had to threaten him with were the manuscripts I’d found. Manfred had his own ambitions when it came to writing, you see. But if people found out that he’d written such disgusting books, he would never have any kind of career to speak of.’

‘And the next time he came to see you – that was when he died in your garage?’

‘Yes.’

Fredrika considered what Thea had said. She had certainly stopped her ex from enjoying any success in the literary world, but at a price; she herself was suspected of being behind the books. Who had actually started that rumour? Morgan Axberger? Or Elias Hjort, perhaps?

One last question: