The badger, p.18
The Badger, page 18
Annika was studying Martin while he held up their television against the wall in the living room. They hadn’t managed to redecorate so the same old patterned wallpaper in brown and faded gold, which had been there from the beginning, remained. It was almost as if Annika had started to like it. It was in keeping with the rest of the style of the old house.
“We need a bigger one,” he said and sighed.
“There’s nothing wrong with this one, is there?” said Annika. She peered at the black screen. Its shining grey edges were gleaming in the evening light.
“It’s only forty-two inches,” said Martin. “Which was fine in the apartment. But here?” He groaned and placed it down on the sofa. “And it’s heavy, too. The new ones are lighter.”
“We’ve just bought an entire house. Shouldn’t we wait a bit before buying new gear?”
“I’m not intending to put this one up. It doesn’t look right, and it’s a bugger to change it later on.”
“Then we could put it on a desk instead.” Annika shook her head. “Aren’t you the grouchy one?”
“I’m just tired,” he said. “I’ve got a shitload on at work and I’m not exactly getting any rest at home either with all that needs doing.”
“And how do you think I’m doing, then? Have you forgotten how I was feeling after that television show?” Annika folded her arms across her chest.
The doorbell rang. Annika gave a start every time she heard its sharp, jarring sound. She didn’t remember Apelgren being hard of hearing, but maybe his wife was? Why else would it sound so shrill and go right through?
“Are you going to get it?” she said and put her hands on her hips.
Martin went into the hall. Annika leaned against the door frame of the kitchen, looking to see who it was. A small woman with flaxen hair was standing on the steps outside. Her face was a picture of astonishment, perhaps confusion.
Annika recognised her. It was the officer who had questioned her at work. What was she doing there?
“Martin?” she said.
“Cecilia?” replied Martin. “Long time no see. What brings you here?”
Cecilia smiled. “Sorry, but do you live here?”
“Yes,” said Martin. “We’ve just moved in.” He turned and beckoned Annika over. His cheeks were flushed. Annika didn’t like it. She scrutinised Cecilia with a worried frown.
“This is my wife, Annika,” said Martin.
“Ah, yes,” said Cecilia. “We’ve met, I’m afraid. This is my colleague, Jonas Andrén.” She took a step sideways so Jonas could shake Martin’s hand.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Jonas, glancing briefly at Cecilia. “Do you two know each other?”
Martin cleared his throat. “Yes, you could say that. A long time ago, in high school. But how come you’re here?”
Cecilia and Annika exchanged glances. The blood was whooshing in Annika’s ears. Cecilia’s cheeks turned red and Annika could feel her own, glowing like stop lights. Not only had the police come here, she had a nasty feeling that Cecilia and Martin must have been more than just friends. Her eyes darkened when she thought about it.
“I’m sorry, Martin, but this isn’t a social call,” said Cecilia. “We’re from the police and we’ve come to bring your wife with us for questioning.”
“I don’t understand,” said Martin. “She hasn’t done anything, has she?”
“That’s what we’re trying to investigate,” said Jonas. He was talking directly to Annika now. “We have to ask you to accompany us to the station.”
“But this has to be some mistake,” said Martin. He pleaded to Cecilia. “We have to be able to sort this out in some way. Annika, I know you haven’t done anything, right?”
Cecilia shook her head. “I am sorry, Martin. It’s too bad we had to meet like this, after so many years. But we have to take Annika with us now.”
Martin tried to convince the officers to let him come along anyway. In the meantime, Annika went to the wardrobe as if in a trance. She put on a pair of shoes and the red coat she had literally put away for the season. It was actually too hot now, but she couldn’t think clearly. The conversation was going on around her in muffled tones and Annika couldn’t make out what was being said. It felt as if it was coming from the other side of a wall, right up until Cecilia’s voice sternly cut through the fog.
“Are you ready?”
Annika nodded and accompanied them through the door outside, without a word.
Luckily, there wasn’t a patrol car waiting for her, just a regular Volvo. The neighbours didn’t need to know she was being picked up by the police. It was bad enough Martin was standing there, a vision of bewilderment at the door, watching behind her. Annika turned around, trying to look into his eyes for support, but he didn’t respond to her wordless plea. He was looking past her.
Was it Cecilia Wreede he was looking out for?
44
TUESDAY 7 JUNE
I wait patiently until I’m quite certain, observe my quarry for a long time, looking for signs of betrayal.
Martin remained at the door for a long while after Annika had left with Cecilia and her colleague. It felt as if time had stopped. It was a long time since he and Cecilia had been a couple, that summer after high school. Yet, he hadn’t forgotten. Especially with it ending the way it did. But now here he was, at the door of his house, trying to understand what had happened.
He hadn’t had many romantic relationships in his life and could count his number of girlfriends on the fingers of one hand. But two of them had been etched on his soul for ever. The first, and by far the greatest, was Annika. Although they may not have the best relationship in the world, she was the woman of his life. He couldn’t imagine a life without her.
The second was Cecilia Wreede.
Cecilia was his childhood sweetheart, a passion which eclipsed everything. They had lit each other’s fires, burning hotly like magnesium. But the flame had been too intense and he should have realised that it would go out one day. She disappeared out of his life just as quickly as she came into it. He still felt the pain in his heart when he thought about it. Sometimes he would be lost in a reverie about the things they had done together. He was ashamed of it, but couldn’t help it. He convinced himself that it didn’t matter, they would never see each other again. And now his childhood sweetheart had driven away with his life partner.
His hand was trembling as he closed the door. He knew he ought to be worried. After all, his wife had just been picked up by the police. Yet that wasn’t why his heart was beating hard and fast. That was because of Cecilia. She was there, in Gothenburg. Within reach.
Martin swallowed hard to drown out his shame. He knew he was being irrational. What had happened was long before he met Annika. She couldn’t know anything about it and had nothing to do with it. All the same, it felt as if he had been unfaithful. The nearest he had got to Cecilia was a handshake, and yet he could still smell her perfume. He shook his head but his thoughts were clinging on like leeches. He tumbled onto the sofa.
His eyes landed on the wedding photo that was leaning against one of the boxes in the living room. He was standing with Annika by a lilac bush in bloom and they were looking deep into each other’s eyes. Her refulgent white dress was shining in competition with the flowers. Her dark red hair was flowing across her bare shoulders and her smile would have melted the hardest of hearts.
He smiled. Annika was really beautiful. He was a very lucky man to have her. Yet he couldn’t protect himself from the tidal wave of emotions which had resurfaced with Cecilia. He looked at the television on the sofa. If he ever needed to drown out his thoughts with passive entertainment, it was now. Somewhere in the boxes was the stand which had accompanied the set since they had bought it.
He groaned, stood up and began looking for it among the things he and Annika had boxed up.
45
TUESDAY 7 JUNE
Once I have selected my victim, the creatures prepare the way in for me. Together, we wait for the right time to perform the deed.
“Don’t I get a lawyer?” said Annika. Cecilia Wreede attempted to read her hard stare, which was giving out a mixture of worry and contempt. Towards her? Presumably. She was, after all, a suspect now.
“No,” said Cecilia. “It’s not necessary. You’re not being charged with anything yet.”
“Why am I here then?” Annika threw her hands to her side, looking around the interview room. Cecilia couldn’t stop her eyes from following Annika’s gesture. She had been here more times than she could count. She was used to this cold and sterile room, its pale yellow weave wallpaper. Cecilia could feel the anxiety covering every surface of the room, like a sticky film. It couldn’t be scrubbed out, settling in clothes like cigarette smoke.
She leaned forwards, propped her elbows on the tabletop and clasped her hands. “It’s important that we can speak with you in private. That’s why you’re here. You see, we have reason to believe you have information about the Badger.”
“I’ve already said I don’t know anything,” said Annika, feeling her hackles rise. She refused to meet Cecilia’s probing gaze.
“I don’t believe that’s true,” said Cecilia. She looked at Jonas and placed the book on the table. The cover stood out against the light wood. Blood red, black and grey. Sharp contrasts and deep shadows.
“Oh, I see,” said Annika. “Go out and look for the real killer instead.”
Cecilia opened the book to where she had placed one of her yellow Post-it notes. “Listen to this,” she said, reading aloud. “You can’t protect yourself. I burrow my way inside. The scraping sounds you hear are my claws patiently shovelling aside the earth beneath your house until I am able to break in through the floor.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Annika wincing with unease as she uttered the words scraping sounds. Why is that, she thought, shutting the book.
“Don’t you like it?” said Cecilia.
“No,” said Annika. “I don’t.”
“But yet you published it?”
“That’s true. It is actually meant to give the reader a chill.” Annika shrugged. “Many people like that kind of thing, it’s a money-spinner. But everyone knows the Badger is said to get into his victims’ homes through the basement floor.”
“Indeed,” said Cecilia. “You’re right about that. There’s lots in the book that absolutely anyone could have written, based on what they’ve read in the papers.” She leaned forwards across the table. “It’s just that the book contains other matters. Matters that we haven’t shared with the press.”
“Such as?”
“Such as what he does with them, for example. This stage of the investigation is, strictly speaking, confidential, but…” She looked at Jonas. “His taking the victims with him through the tunnel. We have never made public that a tunnel even exists.”
Cecilia observed Annika, checking for a reaction. Annika’s face paled and she replied nervously. “But that’s just fiction. Make believe. Isn’t it?”
Cecilia shook her head. “It isn’t, unfortunately.”
The colour drained from Annika’s cheeks. “Could I have a glass of water?” she said.
“Absolutely.” Jonas left the interview room. Cecilia waited in silence until he returned with a cardboard cup that he placed in front of Annika. She took a swig, swallowed it the wrong way and coughed.
“You see,” said Cecilia. “We have never found a body. Not one single victim’s. Just the marks left behind, after someone’s been hauled down the tunnel. If it weren’t purely for the amounts of blood we’d have classed them as abductions, not murder.”
Annika’s eyes opened wide. Cecilia continued. “This is something the press knows nothing about. So, how would Apelgren know about it, if he really did write it? Who could have told him? If you know anything, you would be helping our inquiries. Do you understand?”
“I…” said Annika. She took another swig of water. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Start at the beginning,” said Jonas. He opened a hardback notebook and began writing.
Annika shook her head. “I honestly don’t know anything. The manuscript was just left there.”
“What do you mean, it was just left there? Someone must have sent it to you.”
“It wasn’t the way we usually get them, no.” Annika squirmed on her chair. “Someone had left it outside the office door. One night, when no one was around.”
“Who?”
“Apelgren, obviously. Who else?”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve worked with him for many years. I know his style, no one else could have written this.”
Jonas looked up from his notebook. “Now I don’t get it. He’s dead, right?”
“We had him declared dead. So we could publish the book.” Annika lowered her eyes and shook her head. “It was me. I submitted the application myself.” She shook her head again and laid a hand against her brow. “God, what have I done?”
Cecilia sat back. “So, you mean a missing writer left the manuscript at your door? In which case, he can’t be dead.”
Annika sniffed. “We don’t know.”
“Do you know what it sounds like, what you’re telling us?”
“I know what it sounds like. But it’s true. I know I made a mistake but it wasn’t anything illegal. Nobody knows how we came by the manuscript. Nobody knows where he is, so he might as well be dead.”
“And I believe you’re lying,” said Cecilia. “You know where he is.”
“I am sorry,” said Annika. “But I don’t. You can think what you like about the rest. All I wanted was to save the company.”
“Now listen to me,” said Cecilia. “If Apelgren really is dead, somebody else must have written the book, wouldn’t you say?”
Annika nodded. Sniffling, she wiped a tear with the back of her hand. “Yes. But I don’t have a clue who that might be.”
“I think you do. Why won’t you tell us?”
Annika opened her arms out wide. “Believe me, I really don’t. There are many people out there who try to copy Apelgren’s style in the hope of a publishing contract. Even people from the company have had a go.”
Cecilia raised an eyebrow. “Like who?”
“Jesper Olsson, for example,” said Annika. “But just because someone writes a book, doesn’t mean they are a killer.”
Cecilia exchanged a glance with Jonas. He shook his head.
“Please, can I go now?” said Annika and slumped into her chair. She looked as if someone had opened a valve and let all of the air out.
“Yes, but listen carefully. I still believe there’s something you’re not telling us. So my advice to you is not to leave Gothenburg. Because if I am given reason to believe that you intend leaving town, I will apprehend you on suspicion of absconding, on suspicion of murder or conspiracy to murder. Do you understand?”
46
TUESDAY 7 JUNE
I always select the same night, the night which symbolises the ultimate betrayal. The night when all of the vows were made.
Martin collected Annika from outside the police station. He held her in his arms for a long time before helping her into the car. The engine was ticking over but Annika barely heard it.
“They think I’m a murderer,” she said when she was finally able to speak. “They didn’t say it outright, but that’s what they’re thinking.”
“But you’re clearly not,” said Martin.
“I am, though,” she said, aware of Martin tensing up in the seat beside her. “I killed Apelgren.” But she couldn’t get any more words out before starting to cry. Nothing more was said the entire way home.
When she eventually got to bed, she fell asleep in a few seconds. She was completely exhausted through stress and remorse, yet she repeatedly woke up all through the night, out of breath, still half in and half out of a dream, her fingers clawing at muddy earth, until the ground spewed up jets of blood.
“Darling?” It was Martin.
Annika opened her eyes. Her eyelids felt like sandpaper as she blinked. The room was bright in the morning sun. Martin was sitting on the edge of the bed, stroking her greasy hair.
“How’s it going?”
“I’m just so tired,” said Annika. She closed her eyes again, but knew she wouldn’t be able to drift off. Her body was crying out for more sleep, but her head wanted something else. She didn’t know what. It was making her frustrated. She stayed in bed in any case, sapped of all of her strength.
“Shouldn’t you stay home from work today?”
She nodded. “I don’t feel very well.”
“Perhaps we should get you to the doctor.”
“No.” Annika opened her eyes again. She just couldn’t raise her head. The mere effort of trying made her head spin. “I don’t want to.”
Martin stood up and looked at her with concern. “I’ll call the antenatal clinic if you don’t. Better to check than risk anything.”
Annika nodded and closed her eyes again.
A few hours later she was at the doctor’s, sitting on the examining table. She wasn’t as exhausted any more, but was still feeling worn out. The doctor was listening through a stethoscope, inflating the cuff on the blood pressure gauge. It was painful as it tightened across her arm. Annika looked up at the acoustic ceiling tiles and tried to relax.
“Mmmm,” said the doctor, loosening the hook-and-loop fastener. “I’m going to sign you off work, Annika.”
“Sorry?”
“Your blood pressure doesn’t look good: 155 over 100. What you were telling me about your dizziness and fatigue isn’t good at all, even if you hadn’t been pregnant.”
