The Cruel Stars of the Night - Kjell Eriksson [141]
“I think we have a connection between Andersson and a missing professor in Kåbo,” he started without introduction. “I called Lovisa Sundberg and she confirmed that the uncle had rented a cottage to the academic about twenty years ago. It was the same cottage she lived in later for a while. She couldn’t remember his name but she recalled that he worked with books and was unpleasant. I think it was Ulrik Hindersten.”
“And?”
“This is what Ann is doing. I am absolutely sure of it. Berglund saw an inscription in Italian in Alsike. Everything adds up. He’s a professor of Italian or something.”
Ottosson couldn’t help smiling in the midst of the misery. He now remembered that Ann had said something about a missing professor.
“Okay, take this slowly and from the top,” he said and pointed to the visitor’s chair, grateful to have someone to talk to.
Forty-seven
Ann Lindell listened, fascinated against her will, at how the murmuring sound grew and became a rumble. At times there was a sharp bang as if shots had been fired. She put her hand on the door. It had not yet become warm.
What kind of chance do I have? she thought. The house is made of wood and will probably burn like kindling. She guessed that Laura had set fire to several places at the same time, remembering how she ran around before she left. Maybe she was even calculating enough to have opened a window to increase the air circulation.
The door was still cold. Lindell was standing there with her left hand pressed against it as if she was being sworn in as a witness in the box, when smoke started to filter in at the threshold. She didn’t see anything but detected the acrid smell and realized that if the fire didn’t get her the fumes would.
She had on occasion seen people who had died of smoke inhalation. They fell peacefully into a slumber. She particularly remembered a woman who had died in a smoky apartment fire in Knivsta. She had looked almost pleased as she lay there on the bed. The only thing that hinted at death were streaks of black soot at the corners of her mouth. No, Ann corrected herself, it was in Vassunda she lived. The woman had a dozen stuffed animals in her bed but had lived alone for many years. Not even the neighbors could give her first name. She was thirty-five years old and known to all as “Subban.”
Ann started to cry. Warmth was spreading to her hand. The smoke made her cough. She removed her hand from the door and walked with halting steps down the stairs.
There was a roar in the floor above her and she tried to imagine what it looked like. A sea of flames, devouring everything in its path.
She found her way to the store of wine, pulled out a bottle, and struck it against the shelf. The bottleneck broke off and wine ran out over her hand. The scent indicated a bold red wine. She carefully fingered the jagged edge, poured out a little wine into her almost unusable right hand that she had formed into a little cup and slurped up a sip. It was strong. Maybe it was the Amarone that Laura had talked about.
She sipped a little more from her hand, then grew more daring and put the broken bottle to her mouth and drank. One floor up there was an explosion and it was as if the whole house swayed. Ann guessed that it was a window being blown out and knew that the fire would transform into a roaring, thundering inferno.
She drank a little more wine and already felt the effect of the alcohol. She had drunk maybe a quarter of a bottle and that was usually enough so that she would feel it.
She thought of the fact that she wasn’t alone in the basement, but the rats were probably fleeing now and leaving her alone with Ulrik Hinder-sten. He would sort of die a second time.
A crackling sound made her peek out into the basement corridor. At the far end part of the roof had started to give way and sparks were flying around. Ann thought that must be what fireflies looked like. She took another sip of wine and emptied the bottle, reached for another but changed her mind and let it glide back onto the shelf.
“I don’t want to die,” she