enjoying not being in the driver’s seat for once.
‘Book time to taste the wedding menu … Patrik.’
‘Look, this isn’t going to …’ Erica began, but Anna pretended not to hear her.
‘Bridal gown – well, that’s probably going to be you, Erica. You’ve got to start making an effort. What do you say we three girls drive down to Uddevalla tomorrow and see what they’ve got?’
‘Well,’ Erica said hesitantly. Trying on clothes was the last thing she was up for at the moment. The extra weight she’d put on during her pregnancy with Maja simply wouldn’t budge, and she’d even added a few more pounds since then. The stress in recent months had made it impossible for her to think about what she was stuffing into her mouth. She stopped her hand with the bun that she was just about to wolf down and put it back on the tray. Anna looked up from her list.
‘You know, if you stop eating carbs until the wedding, all that weight will just melt away.’
‘Anna, the pounds have never dropped off me with any great speed before,’ Erica said morosely. It was one thing to have this thought herself, but something else entirely when somebody else pointed out that she needed to lose some weight. But she had to do something if she wanted to feel beautiful on her wedding day. ‘Okay, I’ll try. No buns and cakes, no sweets, no bread, no pasta made with white flour, none of that.’
‘You’ll still have to get started on finding a dress now. If necessary, we can get it altered just before the wedding.’
‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ Erica said dully. ‘But let’s go to Uddevalla tomorrow morning as soon as we’ve dropped off Emma and Adrian. Then we’ll see. Otherwise I really will have to get married in my jogging suit,’ she said, imagining herself with a gloomy expression. ‘Anything else?’ She nodded at Anna’s list. Her sister kept writing down tasks and dividing them up. Erica all of a sudden felt very, very tired. This was never going to work.
They were in no hurry as they crossed the street. It was only four days ago that Patrik and Martin had taken the same route, and they were unsure of what they would now find. For four days Kerstin had lived with the news that her partner was gone. Four days that surely must have seemed like an eternity.
Patrik glanced at Martin and rang the doorbell. As if they’d coordinated it, they both took a deep breath and then exhaled some of the tension that had built up inside them. In a way it felt selfish to be so distressed about seeing people in the depths of grief. Selfish to feel the slightest discomfort, when things were immeasurably easier for them than for the person who was mourning the loss of a loved one. But the discomfort was based on a fear of saying something wrong, taking a false step and possibly making matters worse. But common sense told them that nothing they could say or do would worsen the pain that was already almost beyond endurance.
They heard steps approaching, and the door opened. Inside stood not Kerstin, as they had expected, but Sofie.
‘Hello,’ she said softly, and they could see definite traces of several days of tears. She didn’t move, and Patrik cleared his throat.
‘Hello, Sofie. You remember us, don’t you? Patrik Hedström and Martin Molin.’ He looked at Martin but then turned back to Sofie. ‘Is … is Kerstin at home? We’d like to talk with her a bit.’
Sofie stepped aside. She went into the flat to call Kerstin, while Patrik and Martin waited in the hall. ‘Kerstin, the police are here. They want to talk to you.’
Kerstin appeared, and her face was red from crying as well. She stopped a short distance from them without saying a word, and neither Patrik nor Martin knew how to broach the subject they had come to discuss with her. Finally she said, ‘Won’t you come in?’
They nodded, took off their shoes, and followed her into the kitchen. Sofie seemed to want to follow, but Kerstin seemed instinctively to sense that what they were going to discuss wasn’t suitable for her ears, because she shook her head almost imperceptibly. For a second Sofie looked as though she were going to ignore the dismissal, but then she shrugged and went to her room and closed the door. In time she would be told all about it, but for now Patrik and Martin wanted to speak with Kerstin in private.
Patrik got straight to the point as soon as they had all sat down.
‘We’ve found a number of … irregularities surrounding Marit’s accident.’
‘Irregularities?’ said Kerstin, looking from one officer to the other.
‘Yes,’ said Martin. ‘There are certain … injuries that may not be attributable to the accident.’
‘May not?’ Kerstin said. ‘Don’t you know?’
‘No, we’re not positive yet,’ Patrik admitted. ‘We’ll know more when the medical examiner’s final report comes in. But there are enough questions to make us want to have another talk with you. To hear whether there’s any reason to believe that someone might have wanted to harm Marit.’ Patrik saw Kerstin flinch. He sensed a thought fly through her mind, a thought that she rejected at once. But he had to find out what it was, he couldn’t ignore it.
‘If you know of anyone who might have wanted to harm Marit, you have to tell us. If nothing else so that we can exclude that person from suspicion.’ Patrik and Martin watched her tensely. She seemed to be wrestling with something, so they sat quietly, giving her time to formulate what she wanted to say.
‘We’ve received some letters.’ The words came slowly and reluctantly.
‘Letters?’ said Martin, wanting to hear more.
‘Ye-e-es.’ Kerstin fidgeted with the gold ring she wore on her left ring finger. ‘We’ve been getting letters for four years.’
‘What were the letters about?’
‘Threats, filth, things about my relationship with Marit.’
‘Someone who wrote because of …’ Patrik paused, not knowing how to phrase it, ‘because of the nature of your relationship?’
‘Yes,’ Kerstin admitted. ‘Somebody who understood or suspected that we were more than just friends and who was …’ Now it was her turn to search for words. She decided on ‘offended’.
‘What sort of threats were they? How blatant?’ Martin was now writing everything down.
‘They were quite blatant. Saying that people like us were disgusting, that we went against nature. That people like us should die.’
‘How often did you get these letters?’
Kerstin thought about it. She kept twisting her ring nervously round and round. ‘We got maybe three or four a year. Sometimes more, sometimes less. There didn’t seem to be any real pattern. It was more as if somebody sent one when the mood came over them, if you know what I mean.’
‘Why didn’t you ever file a police report?’ Martin looked up from his notebook.
Kerstin gave him a crooked smile. ‘Marit didn’t want to. She was afraid that it would make matters worse. That it would turn into a big deal and our … relationship would become public knowledge.’
‘And she didn’t want that
