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

convenient.’

Her head is all over the place, and she can’t cope with his mind games right now.

‘That’s a shame. I actually called to apologise.’ His voice is subdued, without the usual sarcastic undertone.

‘Really?’ She doesn’t know what to think.

‘Our last conversation didn’t end well, so I thought I’d offer an olive branch. If you’re interested.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘OK, so I asked around about Leo Rasmussen. A former colleague of mine has a nephew, Dejan, who was apparently Leo’s cellmate in Stålboda in the late Eighties. Dejan is a bright guy with a fantastic memory for detail. It was his first stint inside, so it’s not surprising that he remembers it.’

Thea picks up a pen.

‘According to Dejan, Leo kept himself to himself. Behaved impeccably, was always polite to the guards, worked out every day. Dejan said he didn’t exactly come across as a killer, whatever that means. In my humble opinion anyone can become a killer in the wrong circumstances.’ He breaks off to cough.

‘Did Leo talk about what he’d done?’ Thea asks.

‘No, apparently he preferred to avoid the topic. He didn’t boast about it, but nor did he insist he was innocent.’

A fresh bout of coughing; she can hear his chest rattling.

‘Anyway, Leo told Dejan that he was planning to go abroad as soon as he was released. He said there was money waiting for him – enough to make a fresh start.’

‘Where was this money coming from?’

‘I asked the same question, but Dejan didn’t know. Leo seems to have said too much on one occasion, then closed up like a clam, so Dejan assumed there was something shady about the whole thing.’

‘Did he know where Leo went?’

‘They both enjoyed fishing, and talked about going on a fishing trip to Alaska. Typical prison plans, I’d say – a dream to keep you going from one day to the next.’ He clears his throat. ‘Although they both realised the Americans would never let them in with their criminal records. Leo thought they might be able to get into Canada.’

‘Canada?’

‘That’s what Dejan said. Or rather, this is what he actually said: If the guy’s still alive and doesn’t live in Sweden, I’d look for him in Canada.’

Thea thinks for a moment. Kurt Bexell thought he’d called Leo on an American number, but she’s pretty sure that Canada and the USA have the same international dialling code, so he could have been wrong.

‘Did Dejan say anything else about Leo?’

‘No, that was all. To be honest it was more than I’d hoped for. I also asked a contact in the police to do some checking, and Leo hasn’t set foot in Sweden since he got out of jail – at least not under his own name. According to the tax office, he’s listed as emigrated, address unknown.’

‘OK.’

‘OK? Is that all I get?’

She takes a deep breath.

‘Thanks, Leif.’

‘You’re welcome.’

He ends the call and Thea sits there with the phone in her hand, his words echoing inside her head.

Leo was expecting money. Enough to enable him to leave the country, start afresh somewhere else.

Money from whom? For what?

73

‘I’m sinking deeper and deeper into this story, Margaux. Being dragged down into the mud. Back to where I once came from.

‘The question is – will I ever get out again?’

Just after nine she calls the veterinary hospital. Emee’s condition is stable, but the vet wants to keep her in for a couple of days just to be on the safe side. He wonders whether Thea has any idea how Emee came to ingest glycol, but she doesn’t have an answer. She’s thought about it, but hasn’t come up with anything. The forest is still the most likely location, but she remembers that Emee seemed anxious when she returned to the surgery after the information meeting. The door was locked, but she already knows she’s not the only one who has a key.

Could someone really be so cruel as to try and kill her dog? She gives herself a mental shake and goes back to where she was before her father called.

Hubert Gordon was in love with Elita. He gave her his favourite poetry collection, in spite of the fact that Elita was four years younger than him, and came from a family that his father would never accept. Could Hubert have been the father of her unborn child? Thea finds that hard to believe. It seems more likely to have been something else – unrequited love, rejection, jealousy?

She has to find out more.

*

Thea takes the poetry book and heads for the castle. It’s a complete circus over there, with at least a dozen cars and vans and twice as many people carrying supplies into the east wing.

David is in the middle of the kitchen, waving his hands and yelling orders in all directions. He stops as soon as he sees her.

‘There you are – how’s Emee?’

‘Better, but they’re keeping her in for a little while.’

‘That’s fantastic!’ He spreads his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t answer the phone last night – I didn’t hear it.’

A lie. David sleeps with his phone virtually under his pillow.

‘I was right outside the castle, sounding the horn and flashing the headlights.’

‘Were you? I must have been in a really deep sleep.’

Another lie. In David’s case they’re pretty easy to spot, because he’s better at lying than telling the truth.

‘You weren’t there, were you? You slept somewhere else.’

He moves closer, places a hand on her shoulder. Looks around, worried that someone will have heard her.

‘We’ll sort everything out as soon as the dinner is over,’ he says quietly. ‘No more secrets. You can ask me whatever you like, but please help me to get us through this first.’

He smiles, tries to make her do the same.

‘OK.’

Through the window, almost opposite the stone steps, she sees a group of men building a Walpurgis Night bonfire. One of them is Little Stefan; he’s erecting a familiar T-shaped frame in the middle of the bonfire.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s Walpurgis Night – obviously we’re having