The Princess of Burundi - Kjell Eriksson [121]
“The ones who don’t have ground service, you mean?”
Gunnel smiled.
“Ground service,” she said slowly. “I don’t think of my role in that way. I like making things nice around the house, and he’s not as impossible as he seems.”
Lindell thought that Gunnel Sagander had aged attractively, and there was a warmth in her voice that indicated that she had seen and heard a great deal but forgiven and made her peace with that which hadn’t gone her way. Was she happy? Or was she simply making the best of her role of homemaker and wife to that grumpy old man?
Lindell had seen too many of these women who subordinated themselves, but could also feel the temptation of giving in to a more traditional woman’s role. It would be so easy to be like her mother. So seemingly secure. She wanted to talk to Gunnel Sagander about this but realized that it wasn’t the right time and would probably never be right either.
The coffee in the percolator gurgled a last time. Gunnel gave Lindell a hasty glance as if she had read her thoughts.
“Are you married?” she asked and poured the coffee into a big Thermos.
“No, single with a little Erik.”
Gunnel nodded and they walked back out into the living room.
Lindell could see from his face that Haver was disappointed—or was it the exhaustion? He sat slouched back in his seat and looked at his hands. He glanced at Gunnel Sagander and Lindell when they walked back in. Agne Sagander was talking. Berglund was listening attentively.
“Little John was good at his work. A singular man,” Sagander said. “It was too bad I had to let him go.”
“You fired him,” Berglund corrected him.
“I had no choice,” Sagander said. “I have a business to run. Employees—such as yourself, I might add—never understand.”
“Of course,” Berglund said and smiled.
“Another cup?” Gunnel asked and held the Thermos aloft.
“Thank you, I’ve had enough,” Berglund said and got to his feet.
Haver looked up at the sky. The clouds pulled back like a curtain at the theater and revealed a starry sky. He moved his mouth as if to say something but changed his mind.
“Thank you for the coffee,” he said to Gunnel Sagander. She didn’t say anything in reply, just nodded. Berglund shook her hand. Lindell lingered for a moment.
“You must have known John,” she said.
“Of course. He worked at the shop for years. I always liked him.”
“His son, Justus, has run away. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?”
Gunnel shook her head.
“He ran away? The poor boy.”
A car engine started up. It was the patrol car. Lindell shook Gunnel’s hand and thanked her. Haver and Berglund were about to get into Haver’s car when he stiffened, as if his back suddenly hurt. Lindell saw him leave the car and walk a few meters to the side, crouch down, and shout something to Berglund. The latter reached into the car for something.
“What is it?” Gunnel Sagander said anxiously.
“I don’t know,” said Lindell.
“I just thought of something, where Justus may have gone. John and Erki Karjalainen, his former coworker, were very good friends.”
Lindell had trouble concentrating on what Mrs. Sagander was saying. The outside lights only weakly illuminated the spot where Haver and Berglund were crouched. Berglund turned on his flashlight. She saw Haver’s excitement in the way he turned to Berglund. The latter shook his head, looked up at the house, stood up, and took out his phone.
“Erki was almost like a father to John, especially in the beginning,” Gunnel Sagander was saying. “When John needed advice. He could be a little impetuous but that never had an effect on Erki.”
Lindell craned her neck.
“What are they doing down there? Have they dropped something?”
“Maybe they found something,” Lindell said. “What were you saying about Erki?”
“Maybe Justus has gone to Erki. I know he likes him.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
“He lived in Årsta before, but now I think he’s moved out to Bälinge.”
Haver straightened up, put a hand to his lower back, and said something to Berglund.
“I can ask Agne. We could call Erki.”
“Yes, ask Agne. I’ll