The badger, p.16
The Badger, page 16
“You’re joking,” said Annika.
“I’m not.”
Annika stood up and adjusted her top. Her legs were trembling beneath her as she left the room. In the hallway was a slender woman with a stern expression, her blond hair twisted into a sensible topknot, along with a man with scruffy hair and black plastic spectacles. Their entire demeanour exuded seriousness. At the same time, a small movement made by the woman indicated her impatience.
“Are you looking for me?” said Annika.
“Annika Granlund?” said the woman, taking Annika’s hand in a firm grip. “Detective Inspector Cecilia Wreede. This is my colleague, Detective Sergeant Jonas Andrén from our forensic team.”
“Hello,” said Jonas.
“Oh, I see. Welcome,” said Annika. Her head was spinning with questions. The police? Here? Why? “What can I do for you?”
“Is there somewhere we can have a word in private?” said Cecilia. She looked over Annika’s shoulder into the open-plan office.
For a second Annika considered taking them to her office. But it felt too private, so she took them to the meeting room instead. She cleared some printed manuscripts off the table and they sat down.
“Let me get straight to the point,” said Cecilia, holding Annika’s gaze. “What do you know about the Badger?”
Annika shook her head. “I don’t understand,” she said. “Perhaps you can explain a little more.”
Cecilia placed her copy of I am the Badger on the table. “You published this horseshit. Got anything to tell me?”
“It’s popular fiction,” said Annika. Her voice felt as if it wasn’t coming from her own body. Wasn’t it rather warm in there? They have to do something about the air conditioning, it was always too hot or too cold. Never just right. “I didn’t write it. I don’t know any more than it already says.”
Cecilia cast a quick glance at her colleague. “Allow me to rephrase my question. You know that this book draws its inspiration from real events, don’t you?”
“Yes, of course. It says so in the introduction.”
Jonas cleared his throat.
“Then we agree,” said Cecilia. “I am the police investigation lead at the Badger unit. We are the people trying to catch him. And the next thing we know, this turns up.” Cecilia tapped the cover with her index finger.
“Come again?”
“I can’t go into details. But I can say this – there’s too much in this book which links to facts that haven’t been made public. Facts that only the police are privy to.”
Cecilia stopped talking. Annika shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
“So we have to be clear about what might have happened here,” said Cecilia. “Let’s start with who wrote it, for example.”
Annika replied the way she had learned in media training. “It’s Jan Apelgren, like it says on the cover.”
“That can’t be right,” said Jonas. “He has been missing for several years. And is officially dead, as you know.”
“He is.” Annika attempted not to blush. She would have to stick to the same story as she had given in all of her interviews. It was nagging away at her, as it always did, but was no worse now than at other times. “We came across the manuscript when we were going through his unpublished writing. The company has inherited the rights as set out in Apelgren’s will.” She had said it so many times that it felt like the truth.
Unless Jesper had written it in secret. But why would he do that?
Cecilia shook her head. “I don’t believe that.” She tapped on the book again, this time with her knuckles. “The person who wrote this knows more about the investigation than a missing hack for hire could have dreamt up. I think you know something you’re not telling us.”
An idea whirled through her mind like a wind in winter. Is it illegal to lie to the police? “Is this an interrogation?” said Annika.
“No,” said Cecilia. “I was hoping to avoid turning it into one.”
“Am I being accused of anything?”
Jonas looked at Cecilia. “No,” he said. “You’re not. But you, and Eklund Press, are persons of interest in the investigation.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that we may be in touch,” said Cecilia, slowly, to add emphasis to her words. “And should you come up with something you want to tell us, we’d like you to get in touch with us.”
Cecilia Wreede slid her card over to Annika.
Annika remained sitting in the meeting room when the police had left. Her pulse refused to go down and she could feel the cold sweat running down her back. She looked at the framed cover on the wall. Grey concrete, spattered with blood. Hanging underneath was a brass plaque, saying Number 1 Bestseller.
What was it she had actually published?
37
FRIDAY 3 JUNE
They taught me to hunt my own food. To find suitable quarry and survive on their meat.
“She’s hiding something,” said Cecilia as she came onto the street with Jonas. She looked into the wind, blowing her fringe out of her face.
Down at the harbour, a large white ferry from Denmark was slowly coming into berth at the terminal building.
Jonas nodded. “I agree. Shall we bring her in?”
Cecilia shook her head. “No. Not yet. The book’s still too hot to handle. It would attract too much attention if the press got wind of it.”
“True. We can investigate her in more detail remotely just for now, there’s plenty of time until November.”
“Go ahead. But don’t drop everything else at its expense. It might just turn out that all she’s done is publish a book.”
“Well, yes it might.”
Cecilia unzipped her jacket. It was starting to feel like a proper summer’s day outside, as long as you stayed in the sun. “And we can’t be sure that she, specifically, does know any more. The question is what the author knows, whoever that is. Because it’s clearly not Jan Apelgren.”
Jonas shook his head. A tram came clattering along the track from Järntorget towards Stenpiren. “No, not if he really is dead that is.”
Cecilia spun round. “What do you mean by that?”
“Well, nobody knows. It might just be some bloody clever advertising ploy.”
“Who would be crazy enough to allow themselves to be declared dead just to flog a book?” Cecilia shook her head.
“The Badger himself, maybe?” said Jonas.
“So you think we’re dealing with a literary killer who writes books when he’s not murdering people? Oh, stop it!” Cecilia pushed her hands into her pockets. They touched her gloves, which were screwed-up right at the bottom. It had started to get hot outside now so she wouldn’t be needing them for a while. She took out her mobile to check her messages, then she stopped abruptly.
“What’s wrong? Did you leave something back at the publisher’s?” said Jonas.
“You might just be bloody right,” she said.
“Now I’m not keeping up.”
“What if our killer did write the book? Not Jan Apelgren. The killer may have borrowed Jan’s name. The bloke’s not a complete unknown in the end, and he conveniently went missing at the same time.”
Jonas pursed his lips the way he usually did when he was considering something. “That may well be. But you said it yourself. Doesn’t it seem a tad incredible?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time a serial killer has tried to court public attention,” said Cecilia. “Even if there are easier ways to go about it than publish books.”
“Okay. If we go with that, what is the connection to our publishing friend?”
“No idea,” said Cecilia.
She opened Tinder. There were three current chats. She chose one at random and wrote a reply using virtually all emojis.
38
FRIDAY 3 JUNE
The first one I consumed, right down to the marrow inside her bones, was the woman I loved. I cried with every bite, but the creatures consoled me, assuring me that what I was doing was right.
Back in her office, the first thing Cecilia saw was the worn-out soles of a pair of loafers resting on her desk. They belonged to a man with long legs and a practically elongated upper half. He was reclining in Cecilia’s chair, reading I am the Badger, the book held up high in front of his face so that only the thinning hair on the top of his head was poking up above the pages. As Cecilia came in, he lowered the book, studying her over a pair of narrow reading glasses on the tip of his nose.
“Excuse me,” said Cecilia, “but who are you?”
The man held a bony index finger in the air. “Hold on. I especially like this bit. Just listen to this.” He cleared his throat and started to read.
“When the tunnels collapse in over me, and threaten to bury me alive, they lull me with their whispers, digging me free. They are my brothers and sisters in the darkness. My guardian angels. That’s bloody poetry!”
“You’re in my chair.”
The man looked uncomprehendingly at Cecilia. Then he closed the book and leaped to his feet and full stature. “Knut Lerjedal.” His handshake was sloppy, lacking warmth.
She tilted her head back slightly to meet his close-set grey eyes. “Oh,” she said with indifference. “And what are you doing in my office? All material in here is classified.”
“Indeed, and that’s why I’m here.” He smiled. “I work at the internal investigations unit.” He raised his eyebrows and held on to Cecilia’s hand while he was talking. It was starting to feel uncomfortable.
“That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here,” said Cecilia. She attempted to pull her hand back, but he held it for a further second before letting go.
“Well, it does,” said Knut. His eyes wandered across piles of papers on the console tables, her cycle helmet and Jonas’s rucksack, until they came to rest on Cecilia’s annotated whiteboard. “Yes, it really does. How many people are on the case?”
“It varies,” said Cecilia. “Right now, just me and Jonas Andrén. The unit increases to maybe five, six people every year once the Badger strikes, then decreases steadily until that time comes around again.”
Knut nodded. “No more anyhow. Good, that makes my job easier.”
“And your job is?”
“Ah, didn’t I say? But, then again, isn’t it obvious?” He lifted the book up once more. “I’ve been appointed to investigate the Badger unit to see if we can find the source of this.”
“You mean that management suspects a leak?” Cecilia shook her head firmly. “Not on my watch.” Surely it couldn’t be anyone from her investigation?
Knut clicked his tongue and shrugged. “Breaking confidentiality provisions constitutes misconduct, Miss Wreede. I’m sure you’re aware of that?”
Cecilia’s jaw was close to hitting the floor. Had he just called her Miss? She blinked a few times before answering. “What do you mean? Of course I am.”
“Then you understand why this is important. If it should turn out that somebody here, God forbid, has leaked information, you’ll also understand that it’s of utmost importance that we find the guilty party and seal the leak. Before whoever it is gets the idea of writing more of this hogwash.” He paused and looked at Cecilia as if to emphasise the gravity of it. “Wouldn’t you say so?”
“Yes. Clearly. But I find it hard to see how that would be the case.”
“Let’s not draw any conclusions just yet,” said Knut quickly. “The Badger may be your investigation, but I have mine. And I shall carry it out my way. I expect nothing less than your full cooperation.”
Cecilia nodded. “Absolutely. But I’d like to see your findings. If you have nothing against that?”
Knut fished out an envelope from the inside pocket of his blazer. “I’ve already been given access to your files on the server, so I thought I’d start by reading up on them. I’ll get back in due course for interviews with everyone who has been involved in the investigation. Have a pleasant evening.”
“I know nearly everyone in this building,” said Cecilia behind him as he was leaving. “How come I’ve never seen you here before?”
Knut stopped walking. “Because I don’t work here,” he said, a broad smile on his face. “They put me on a train from Stockholm yesterday.”
He passed Jonas, who was coming into the room with a cup of coffee in each hand, without seeming to pay any attention to him.
“Who was that?” asked Jonas, passing a cup to Cecilia.
Cecilia shook her head. “Some numpty. He’s supposed to be investigating us. Seems like it’s more important to track leaks in the force than nicking murderers now.”
39
SATURDAY 4 JUNE
I don’t know how long the creatures have been dormant in the earth. But they are awakened from their slumber by man’s relentless digging. When they are deprived of rest, they seek revenge.
The morning sun was streaming in through the kitchen window. The dust motes floating through the air were sparkling in the light. Annika was standing in the doorway of her new kitchen. She couldn’t help but think of the tiny, gleaming specs as fairy dust. Magical powder which was going to change her life for the better.
The small muscles in the corners of her mouth were slowly curling into a smile. She had a warm feeling in her stomach. It wasn’t noticeable yet, but inside her a new life was waiting to emerge into the light. Everything was perfect. She felt reassured, calm and happy. The stress of the last few months was flowing out of her with every breath. She felt a couple of hands around her waist. Martin’s body was warming her back.
“Welcome home, darling.”
Hearing those words, she knew she loved him so much it hurt. She was unable to reply. Her emotions were overflowing, her voice stuck in her throat, her eyes were filling with tears of joy. She tilted the back of her head against his shoulder.
“Is this all for real?” she said, as soon as she caught her breath. “Is this us living here now?” Together happily ever after?
“It’s our house,” said Martin. He chuckled to himself. He generally did so when he was going to say something he thought was a bit clever. “Though we haven’t got any furniture in yet so, on a technical level, we’re living in the apartment for one more night.”
Annika drove her elbow into his stomach, just hard enough for him to let go.
“Ow!” Martin laughed. “I’m getting abused by my wife.”
“Admit it, you like it.” She turned around and gave him a kiss. “Or else you’d better call the police.”
His eyes became distracted and he looked over her shoulder. “Look at that!”
“What is it?” said Annika. She turned around and took a step closer to the window.
A large, spotted tabby cat was prowling along the straggly hedge towards the neighbouring house. It stopped, peeping beneath the branches dotted with thorns.
“What a beauty,” said Annika. She tapped on the window pane. The cat turned and looked at her.
“Wonder whose it is?” said Martin.
Annika opened the veranda door. “I want to go and stroke it.”
The cat stood completely still with its tail in the air. Annika stepped out onto the veranda and crouched down. “Here, kitty kitty,” she said with a soft voice.
It stared at her for a few seconds, then continued along the hedge as if nothing had happened.
“Wasn’t it interested?” said Martin.
“No. But it didn’t spit at me at any rate. Like the lawyer’s cranky one did.”
Martin offered her a hand while she stood up again. “Let’s go. We’ve got a couple of loads of stuff to bring in before the day is done.”
“And you want some extra muscle from a pregnant woman, is that what you’re saying?
“I am, yes. You’re not that far along. But I’ll take the heavy stuff.”
Annika’s head was spinning slightly as she got to her feet. She nodded and accompanied him to the trailer which he had backed into the driveway. They undid the snap latches and lifted the cover. Inside their entire life was waiting for them, packed up in boxes labelled with marker pen. Kitchen. Living room. Bedroom. Bathroom. Table legs and other small items of furniture were peeping out here and there. The trailer was so full that it was near to bursting, but Martin was happy enough. He hated driving back and forth more than was necessary. Everything in the apartment, except for the bed, had been made room for. Three large suitcases of clothes and toiletries were still standing on the empty living room floor of the apartment.
“Just a case of knuckling down, then,” said Martin. He gave a plucky smile and pulled out one of the boxes.
As they went back and forth with the boxes, the house was starting to fill up with their things. The bare rooms were being transformed with every box and with every odd and end that Annika insisted on taking out immediately and placing in the window recesses or on the floor. It was slowly going from being an empty shell to becoming a home.
Their home. Where they were going to nest, build a family and live happily ever after for the rest of their days. Annika could barely wait.
She carried a box labelled storeroom down the stairs to the lower floor. The entertainment room there was completely bare. The light was flickering through the trees, bringing the floor and the white walls to life with shadows and dancing flecks of golden sunlight. The air was colder down there and her sweat cooled as she crossed the short hallway and went into the storeroom. As she put the box down, she heard a scraping beneath the cardboard. The sound cut right through her, making her skin prickle and she wrapped her arms around herself.
As she was rubbing the tops of her arms to keep warm, she looked around the storeroom. Just there, half hidden by the box, was something dark against the light beige basement floor. She crouched down and studied it. It was a patch of earth, grey and dry like dust. She moved the box out of the way for a better look. Her chest started fluttering when she saw a footprint made by a heavy-duty boot. Her eyes searched around for more, but there only seemed to be one. Something that was missed during the final stage of cleaning, perhaps.
