The Princess of Burundi - Kjell Eriksson [43]
The handwriting was almost illegible and looked as if it had been done in haste: “Pets are not appropriate in densely populated areas.” No signature.
What a mean-spirited thing to do, she thought. How would she explain this to Malin, the girl next door? She looked back at the rabbit. Incredible, to kill a rabbit. It had to be a very sick person.
Should she notify the police again? Had they been here? Probably not. They had more pressing matters to attend to than a dead rabbit.
She thought of John again and started to cry. People could be so awful. Had the note been there this morning, or had the person who strangled Ansgar returned later? She looked around. The forest that encroached on the buildings was starting to grow dark. The light from the windows was reflected on the tall trunks of the pine trees. The wind sighed in the treetops. Granite boulders lay scattered about like large animals.
Gunilla went back into the apartment. Her feet were wet and she was cold. She pulled the patio door shut and closed the blinds. Her initial fear was starting to give way to anger, and she hesitated as she stood there. Then she decided to get in touch with the head of the building association. He was a curmudgeon, but he needed to be notified about this. Perhaps he had received complaints about pet owners in the area. Maybe there had been another incident that could be connected to Ansgar’s death?
She found his number in the phone book, dialed the number—which was confusingly like her own—but no one answered. She thought about going over to the neighbors to see if they had heard anyone sneaking around outside but she didn’t feel like leaving her apartment. Maybe he was still out there.
Malin and her parents were away and wouldn’t be back until the weekend was over. The neighbors on the other side were recent arrivals. They were an older couple who had sold their house in Bergsbrunna. Gunilla had spoken only briefly with the woman.
The news at six didn’t mention John’s murder. She changed the channel to check the local news program on channel 4, but the top stories were over and the weather was of no interest to her. Not now.
Calm down, she told herself.
It was the work of a madman, a sick human being. Mentally, she ran through the list of other occupants. Was there anyone capable of strangling and disemboweling a rabbit? No. Her neighbor Cattis could be difficult and she certainly had opinions on everyone and everything, but she was hardly so far gone as to do this.
The wind had picked up and Gunilla thought she could hear the rabbit’s body rhythmically smacking against the railing. She knew she should cut him down but didn’t want to go out onto the patio again. And if she called the police again, what would they do? They must have enough on their hands with John’s murder without investigating the death of a pet rabbit.
She heard Magnus Härenstam’s voice on the television as she gently pushed open the door and at the same time turned on the outside light. It didn’t turn on and she tried again with the same result. A branch of the bird-cherry shrub that Martin had planted was dashed against the plastic roof. Why did he plant it so close? she had time to think before she noticed that the rabbit was gone. As it was white, it took a while before she spotted it again. Had it been blown down onto the snow or had someone taken it down?
She looked out toward the trees, holding her breath and crouching down slightly so that she would not be as visible to the outside. The pine trees swayed in the wind. The bird-cherry branch scraped against the roof. She took a few hesitant steps, wearing only thin stockings. Ansgar couldn’t stay down there, people would think she had done it. Malin would never forgive her.
She was terrified, but strangely not very surprised, when a hand covered her mouth and another encircled her waist. She tried to bite her attacker but couldn’t open her mouth.
“Rabbits are disgusting,” a voice