The Princess of Burundi - Kjell Eriksson [123]
“Could you get Erki’s phone number now?” Lindell asked.
She knew she should go home. In some way she felt that this case no longer interested her. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t taken part in much of the investigation. Was it thoughts of Justus that kept her here?
Haver finished his call and was about to say something when Berglund stepped out of the living room and carefully closed the door behind him.
“We’ll have to send for an ambulance and some patrol officers,” he said. “Sagander refuses to budge an inch. He says he can’t be moved.”
Berglund shared none of Haver’s excitement. The soon-to-be retired police officer wanted to get home to his wife, children, grandchildren, and Christmas tree, but Lindell knew that he would work all through Christmas without complaining, if needed. He was still standing with his hand on the door handle and looked at Gunnel as if to commiserate with her or perhaps hear her comment on her husband’s claimed immovability.
“He’s stubborn,” was all she said.
“How is his brother?” Haver asked.
They saw how she hesitated, choosing her words with care.
“He’s like his brother in many ways—they’re twins—but he’s more hot-blooded, I have to say.”
“Would you describe him as violent?”
“He has a wonderful wife,” Gunnel said, as if this were an answer to his question.
Haver’s phone rang and he picked up after the first ring. Lindell saw that he was sweating. She started thinking about Edvard. She felt a twinge in her stomach as she thought about how they had made love in their wooden palace at Gräsö, sapping the force of the north wind. One night she had tiptoed out of bed before sunrise, walked to the open window, detached the mosquito screen, and leaned out. The birds were singing at their greatest intensity. The sea lay still as a mirror and the temperature was already close to twenty degrees Celsius. When she turned to look at Edvard in the bed she had thought to herself that no person could be happier than this. During the night he had pulled the sheet off and a few beads of sweat glistened on his stomach.
“I guess we’ll go up and see Ruben,” Haver said, interrupting her stream of thought. “Two cars will be here soon. I told them to hurry.”
“Can I borrow your car, Eskil?”
Ryde turned to Lindell and looked at her as if he didn’t understand her question.
“I have to get into town,” she said, as embarrassed as if she had asked to borrow his pants.
“Take mine,” Haver said to save her, tossing the keys over.
“Thanks, Ola,” she said and smiled. “I think you’ve got it sewn up,” she added, using one of Edvard’s expressions.
She stepped out onto the porch, unfolded the note with the phone number, and dialed it. It took five or six rings for Erki to answer. In the background she heard Christmas music and the rattle of plates.
She presented herself, but before she had time to explain why she was calling, Erki Karjalainen broke in.
“He’s here,” he said, and Lindell thought his accent was just like that of the Mumins.
She laughed with relief.
“Have you called Berit?”
“No,” Erki said. “The boy won’t let me.”
“Can I come over?”
“Wait,” Erki said, and Lindell heard how he walked away from the phone.
She tried to imagine how he lived, what he looked like, and how he was talking to the boy. It took a while, and she looked out over the fields in front of Sagander’s house, the road with the juniper decorations and the brother’s house a few hundred meters away. Would Agne call and warn his brother? She didn’t think so. It would be hard for him to get to the regular phone, and even if he had a cell phone nearby he would probably let it stay where it was. It was a feeling based on Gunnel’s reaction. She knew what was going on, even that her husband might be accused of accomplice to murder, but Lindell saw that deep inside she was relieved that the police were taking over. Maybe even Agne in all his grumpiness felt the same. Twin brothers can be tricky, Lindell