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Erling shook his head. ‘I can only repeat what I already told you. Mats never talked about himself. It was as if his life started when he took the job here.’
‘Didn’t you find that rather odd?’
‘Not really. I don’t think anyone gave it much thought. He wasn’t anti-social by any means. He laughed and joked and joined in the chat about TV shows and the sorts of topics that come up during a coffee break. I don’t think anyone really noticed that he never discussed anything personal. It’s only now, after the fact, that it’s occurred to me.’
‘Was he doing a good job?’ asked Gösta.
‘Mats was an excellent financial officer. As I said, he was conscientious, methodical, and painstaking with his work. Those are all desirable qualities in someone who’s in charge of financial matters, especially in such a politically sensitive office as ours.’
‘You have no complaints about him?’ asked Paula.
‘None. Mats was extremely talented in his field. And he has been an invaluable resource for Project Badis. He came on the scene late in the game, but he quickly got up to speed and really helped us to move forward.’
Gösta glanced at Paula, who shook her head. They didn’t have any other questions at the moment, but Gösta couldn’t help thinking that Mats Sverin seemed as anonymous and faceless as he had before they began this interview with his boss. And he couldn’t help wondering what they might find when they finally started scratching the surface.
The Sverins’ small house was located down by the water’s edge in Mörhult. It was warmer today – a lovely early summer day, and Patrik left his jacket in the car. He had phoned ahead to say that he would be coming, and when Gunnar opened the door, he looked down the hall to the kitchen and saw that the table had been set for coffee. That was how things were done here on the coast. Coffee and biscuits were always served, no matter whether the occasion was joyous or sorrowful. Over the many years that he’d spent on the police force, Patrik had downed countless gallons of coffee as he visited local citizens.
‘Come in. I’ll just go and see if I can get Signe to …’ Without finishing his sentence, Gunnar turned to go upstairs.
Patrik remained where he was, thinking that he would wait in the front hall. But Gunnar was gone a long time, and finally Patrik moved towards the kitchen. The whole house seemed cloaked in silence, so he took the liberty of stepping inside the living room. It was a pleasant room, nice and tidy with elegant old furniture and doilies everywhere, as was customary in the homes of elderly people. Scattered about were framed photographs of their son. As he looked at them, Patrik was able to follow Mats’s life from infancy to adulthood. He had an agreeable appearance, a likeable face. He looked happy. Judging by the photos, he’d had a good childhood.
‘Signe will be right down.’
Patrik was so immersed in his own thoughts that Gunnar’s voice almost made him drop the framed picture he was holding.
‘You certainly have a lot of nice photos.’ Carefully he set the photograph back on the bureau and followed Gunnar out to the kitchen.
‘I’ve always enjoyed taking pictures, so we’ve accumulated a lot of them over the years. And we’re glad to have them now. As a reminder of him, I mean.’ Embarrassed, Gunnar began fussing with the plates and filling the coffee cups.
‘Do you take sugar or milk? Or both?’
‘Black is fine. Thanks.’ Patrik sat down on one of the white kitchen chairs.
Gunnar set a cup in front of him and then sat down on the other side of the table.
‘We might as well start. I’m sure Signe will be here soon,’ he said, casting a worried glance at the stairs. Not a sound could be heard from overhead.
‘How’s she doing?’
‘She hasn’t said a word since yesterday. The doctor said he’d look in on her later. All she does is lie in bed, but I don’t think she slept a wink all night.’
‘Looks like you’ve received a lot of flowers,’ said Patrik, nodding at the counter where big bouquets had been placed in all sorts of containers serving as vases.
‘Everyone has been so nice. They’ve offered to come over, but I can’t stand the thought of having a bunch of people sitting around the house.’ He dropped a sugar cube in his cup and began stirring. Then he reached for a biscuit and dipped it in his coffee before putting it in his mouth. He seemed to have a hard time swallowing the mouthful and had to wash it down with some coffee.
‘There you are.’ Gunnar turned around to look at Signe as she entered the hall.
They hadn’t heard her come down the stairs. Gunnar stood up and went over to his wife. Gently he put his arm around her and led her to the table, as if she were a very old woman. She seemed to have aged several years just since yesterday.
‘The doctor will be here in a while. Have some coffee and a biscuit. You need to get something in your stomach. Should I make you a sandwich?’
She shook her head. It was the first time she’d reacted, acknowledging that she had heard what he said.
‘I’m terribly sorry,’ said Patrik, and he couldn’t resist placing his hand over hers. She didn’t pull it away, but neither did she respond to the gesture. Her hand felt limp and dead. ‘I wish that I didn’t have to disturb you at a time like this. At least, not so soon after what happened.’
As usual, he was having a hard time finding the words. Since becoming a parent, he found it harder than ever to deal with people who had lost a child, even if that child was grown up. What was he supposed to say to someone whose heart had been ripped out? Because that was how he imagined it must feel.
‘We realize that you have a job to do,’ said Gunnar. ‘And of course we want you to find the person who … did this. If there’s any way that we can help, we want to do that.’
He was sitting next to his wife, and now he protectively drew his chair closer to hers. She hadn’t touched her coffee.
‘Have some,’ he said, lifting the cup to her lips. Reluctantly she took a few sips.
‘We talked about this yesterday, but could you tell me a little more about Mats? Any details you’d like to share with me, no matter how big or small.’
‘He was always so nice, even as a baby,’ said Signe. Her voice sounded dry and raspy, as if she hadn’t spoken in a long time. ‘He slept the whole night through, right from the start, and he was never any trouble. But I worried about him; I always have. I kept thinking that something terrible was going to happen.’
‘And you were right. I should have listened to you,’ said Gunnar, fixing his eyes on the table.
‘No, you were the one who was right,’ said Signe, looking at him. She seemed to have suddenly woken up from her stupor. ‘I wasted so much time and happiness by worrying, while you were always glad and grateful for what we had, and for Matte. It’s impossible to prepare for something like this happening. I’ve spent my whole life worrying about everything between heaven and earth, but I was never able to prepare myself for this. I should have been happier.’ She fell silent. Then she said, ‘What do you want to know?’ And she picked up her cup to drink her coffee without waiting to be coaxed.
‘Did he go to Göteborg when he moved away from home?’
‘Yes, after secondary school he enrolled in the Business College. He received excellent marks,’ said Gunnar, obviously proud of his son.
‘But he often came home on the weekends,’ added Signe. Talking about her son seemed to be having a positive effect on her. She now had a little more colour in her cheeks, and her eyes were clearer.
‘Naturally, in recent years he didn’t come as often. But in those early years he was home almost every weekend,’ said Gunnar, nodding.
‘And things went well with his studies?’ Patrik had decided to stick to subjects that would make Signe and Gunnar feel calm and relaxed.
‘Yes, he got good marks in college too,’ said Gunnar. ‘I never understood how he came to be so good at book learning. He didn’t get it from me, at any rate.’ He smiled and for a moment seemed to forget why they were on this subject. But then it all came back to him, and his smile faded.
‘So what did he do after he finished his degree?’
‘His first job was for that auditing company, wasn’t it?’ Frowning, Signe turned to Gunnar.
‘Yes, I think so, but for the life of me I can’t recall the name of the firm. Something American. He was there only for a few years. It didn’t really suit him. He said the job involved working too much with numbers and not enough with people.’
‘And where did he work after that?’ Patrik’s coffee had grown cold, but he kept on taking small sips.
‘He worked at several different places. I’m sure I can find you the names if you like, but for the last four years he was responsible for the finances of a non-profit organization called the Refuge.’
‘What do they do?’
‘It’s a group that helps women who have fled from domestic violence situations, seeing to it that they can rebuild their lives. Matte loved that job. He hardly talked about anything else.’
‘Why did he quit?’
Gunnar and Signe glanced at each other, and Patrik realized that they had wondered the same thing.
‘Well, we think it had something to do with the assault. He didn’t feel safe living in Göteborg any longer,’ said Gunnar.
‘And he wasn’t safe here, either,’ said Signe.
No, thought Patrik, he certainly wasn’t. No matter what had prompted Mats Sverin to leave Göteborg, the violence had caught up with him.
‘How long was he in hospital after the assault?’
‘Three weeks, I think,’ replied Gunnar. ‘It was a shock when we saw him there.’
‘Show him the pictures,’ said Signe quietly.
Gunnar got up and went into the living room. He came back carrying a small box.
‘I don’t really know why we saved these photographs. They’re not exactly the kind that you’d want to show anyone.’ His calloused fingers reached into the box and gently removed the photos.
‘May I see?’ Patrik held out his hand, and Gunnar gave him the small stack. ‘My God!’ He couldn’t hold back his reaction when he saw the pictures of Mats Sverin lying in the hospital bed. What he saw bore no resemblance to the young man in all the photos in the living room. His face, his entire head was swollen. And his skin was various shades of red, with tinges of blue.
‘I know,’ said Gunnar, looking away.
‘They said he could have died. But he was lucky, in spite of it all.’ Signe blinked away her tears.
‘From what I understand, they never caught the perpetrators. Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ said Signe. ‘Do you think this might have something to do with what happened to Matte? The young thugs who attacked him were complete strangers. It was because he told one of them not to urinate outside the door to his building. He’d never seen them before. Why would they …?’ Her voice now sounded shrill.
Gunnar stroked her arm to calm her down.
‘They don’t know anything yet. The police just want to find out as much as possible,’ he told her.
‘That’s right,’ said Patrik. ‘We don’t have any answers yet. We need to build up as complete a picture of Mats and his life as we can.’ He turned to look at Signe. ‘Your husband said that as far as you’re aware, Mats didn’t have a girlfriend at the moment. Did he?’
‘No, or if he did, he kept that information to himself. To be honest, I’d almost given up hope of ever having a grandchild,’ said Signe. But when she realized what she’d said, and that now there was no hope of such a thing, the tears began to fall again.
Gunnar squeezed her hand.
‘I think there was someone in Göteborg,’ Signe went on, her voice thick with sobs. ‘He never said so, but I had a sense there was a woman. And sometimes I could smell perfume on his clothes when he came home to visit. The same perfume each time.’
‘But he never mentioned a name?’ asked Patrik.
‘No, never, even though Signe couldn’t resist asking him a few times,’ said Gunnar, smiling.
‘Well, I didn’t see why it had to be such a big secret. Why couldn’t he have brought her home one weekend so we could meet her? We can behave ourselves if we make an effort.’
Gunnar shook his head. ‘As you can tell, this was a rather sensitive subject.’
‘Did you have the impression that this woman, whoever she might have been, continued to be part of Mats’s life after he moved back to Fjällbacka?’
‘Hmmm …’ Gunnar looked at Signe.
‘No, she wasn’t,’ she said emphatically. ‘A mother knows such things. And I would almost swear that he no longer had a girlfriend.’
‘I don’t think he could ever forget Nathalie,’ Gunnar interjected.
‘What do you mean? That was ages ago. They were just children.’
‘That doesn’t matter. There was something special about Nathalie. I’ve always thought so, and I think Matte … You saw how he reacted when we told him that she was back, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but how old were they at the time? Seventeen? Eighteen?’
‘I still think I’m right,’ Gunnar stubbornly insisted. ‘And he was going to go out there to see her.’
‘Excuse me.’ Patrick broke into the conversation. ‘But who is Nathalie?’
‘Nathalie Wester. She and Matte grew up together. As a matter of fact, they were in the same class as your wife. Both Matte and Nathalie.’
Gunnar seemed a bit embarrassed to admit that he knew Erica, but Patrik wasn’t surprised. Almost everybody in Fjällbacka knew everyone else, but they also took a special interest in Erica because her books were so popular.
‘Does Nathalie still live here?’
‘No, she moved away years ago. She went to Stockholm, and she and Matte haven’t been in contact since then. But she owns an island near here. It’s called Gråskär.’
‘And you think that Mats went out there to see her?’
‘He might not have had time to do that,’ said Gunnar. ‘But you can phone Nathalie and ask her.’ He got up to get a note that was stuck on the refrigerator door. ‘Here’s her mobile number. I don’t know how long she’s planning to stay. She’s out there with her little boy.’
‘Does she come here often?’
‘No, in fact we were a bit surprised. She’s hardly been here since she moved to Stockholm. Her last visit was years ago. But the island belongs to her. Her paternal grandfather bought it, and Nathalie is the only descendent left, since she doesn’t have any siblings. We’ve looked after the house for her, but if nothing is done with the lighthouse very soon, it’ll end up beyond saving.’
‘The lighthouse?’
‘Yes, there’s an old lighthouse from the nineteenth century out there on the island. And a cottage. In the past, that’s where the lighthouse keeper used to live with his family.’
‘It sounds like a lonely life.’ Patrik downed the last of his cold coffee, unable to stop himself from grimacing.
‘Lonely, or beautiful and peaceful. It all depends how you look at it,’ said Signe. ‘But I could never spend a single night out there alone.’
‘Weren’t you always the one who said that was just a load of rubbish and old wives’ tales?’ said Gunnar.
‘What do you mean?’ Patrik’s curiosity was instantly sparked.
‘The island is usually called Ghost Isle. According to legend, it was given the name because those who die out there never leave the island,’ said Gunnar.
‘So there are ghosts?’
‘It’s nothing but gossip,’ snorted Signe.
