Rites of Spring by Anders Motte (life books to read .txt) 📗

so old. Whatever the reason, he raises no objections.

‘Take a seat on the sofa – this could take a while,’ he says before disappearing through a door.

Thea fetches a cup of coffee from the machine, then settles down with a magazine. The archivist returns after about fifteen minutes.

‘I’m so sorry – I can’t find the notes you wanted.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t know. We have very strict rules on how items are archived. Of course things end up in the wrong place occasionally, but my guess is that these notes were never sent over from the clinic in Ljungslöv.’

‘But isn’t that compulsory?’

‘Well yes, but we handle millions of documents every year. No one would notice if one set of notes goes missing – unless someone asks for them.’

‘You mean like now?’

He nods. ‘Once again, I’m sorry. Anything else I can help you with?’

Thea is about to say no when she notices an information board on the wall, listing all the types of documentation held in the archive.

‘What about court cases?’

‘Yes – anything that took place within the district of Skåne before 1990. For anything after that date you’d have to contact the relevant court directly. Or the police.’

‘I’m interested in a police investigation and the subsequent court case from 1986.’

‘That shouldn’t be a problem.’

*

It’s almost midday when the archivist returns with a thick blue file under his arm.

‘There you go. We have private areas if you’d like to read it in peace?’

Thea checks her work phone and her own. No calls from patients or from David. The surgery is closed today, so she has plenty of time.

‘Please – that would be good.’

He shows her to one of several glass cubicles. Lingers for a little too long until she almost exaggeratedly thanks him for his help.

‘No problem – just let me know if you want anything copied.’

There must be a hundred documents in the file. The verdict is at the front, so she begins with that.

It states in formal language that the court sentences Leo Rasmussen to six years’ imprisonment for the murder of Elita Svart, and that this term is significantly reduced because of the fact that he was only twenty years old at the time of the offence, and that he was also ‘heavily influenced by his stepsister’.

This is followed by a summary of the reasons for Leo’s conviction, namely his own confession and forensic evidence linking him to the scene. He was also identified by four witnesses. As Thea had already guessed, these witnesses are David, Nettan, Sebastian and Jan-Olof.

She turns to the police investigation – pages and pages of typewritten records of interviews and handwritten notes that will take her many hours to go through. The initial report was made by the first officer on the scene. It describes how Elita’s body was found on the sacrificial stone in the middle of the circle on the morning of 1 May. The body was lifeless, the face covered by a white handkerchief. It was immediately clear that she had been killed, and the area was cordoned off to allow for a crime scene investigation to take place. Erik Nyberg and Bertil Nordin were present; they were the ones who contacted the police.

Thea looks up from her reading. So Erik and her father-in-law were at the scene together, before the police arrived. She raises an eyebrow and continues.

As she was hoping, there is a short interview with both men. Bertil says that he was on his way home from a Walpurgis Night party at the community centre and met David and his three friends, shocked and terrified. They told him that something terrible had happened to Elita at the stone circle. Bertil initially thought it was a joke, but his wife persuaded him to check out the situation. He called Erik Nyberg, who was responsible for the castle estate; there had been problems in the past with teenagers and unplanned Walpurgis celebrations. Erik set off to investigate.

Erik states that he arrived at the stone circle just after six o’clock in the morning and found what he thought was a pile of clothes on the sacrificial stone. Only when he came closer did he realise that it was a body. He hurried to the nearest telephone, which was in the hunting lodge.

Thea thinks about that; he must have told Kerstin Miller about his horrific discovery, which explains why she seems so invested in the tragedy.

After contacting the police, Erik called Bertil Nordin, who arrived shortly before the police. Neither of the men saw anyone else near the scene of the crime.

Thea turns to the post-mortem report from the duty doctor called to the scene to pronounce Elita dead. Severe damage to the os frontale, ossa nasalie, maxilla and os zygomaticum, which in plain language means that someone has violently smashed the poor girl’s face. She wonders if David and his friends saw it happen. Saw the terrible injuries.

She is just about to move on to the interviews with the children when her phone rings. David.

‘Where are you?’

‘Still in Lund.’

‘Shit.’ He sighs. ‘Emee’s taken off again.’

‘Taken off? How?’

‘I was going to take her out for a walk at lunchtime. As soon as I opened the door she pushed past me and ran off.’

‘When was this?’

‘About half an hour ago, maybe a little more. I’ve searched and shouted, but there’s no sign of her. I’ve got two meetings this afternoon so I can’t do any more.’

‘OK, on my way.’

She closes the file and takes it back to the archivist.

‘I’d like a copy, please.’

‘Of course – which documents?’

‘All of them.’

*

As soon as the copying is done, Thea drives home as fast as she dares. She gets there in less than fifty minutes. David’s car and two others are parked outside the castle; she decides not to disturb their meeting. If Emee had turned up he would have called, or at least shut her in the house.

She goes inside; no Emee. She puts the file in her chest of drawers, pulls on her wellingtons,