The Scent of Almonds and Other Stories. Camilla Lackberg

be fine.

      Martin could hear raised voices as he walked down the corridor towards the library. When he entered the room he saw Gustav and Harald. Both men were red in the face, and saliva was flying as they shouted at each other.

      ‘You’re always so conceited! You think you’re better at everything!’ yelled Gustav, shaking his fist at his brother.

      ‘If I’m conceited, it’s because I am better at everything than you are! Name one thing you’ve ever succeeded at – go on, name one thing!’

      The flush on Harald’s face made Martin worry that the man might be on the verge of a heart attack. Apparently Britten had the same thought because she was standing behind her husband, trying to calm him down by pulling on his arm and pleading with him to stop.

      ‘As if you’ve had so much success yourself! I heard why those American suppliers backed out last spring. They considered you to be incompetent and unreliable – you even managed to insult their CEO. So thanks to you we lost a contract that could have generated up to ten per cent of next year’s sales!’

      Harald made a lunge for Gustav, who hastily jumped away. Britten tugged even harder at her husband’s arm, trying to hold him back.

      ‘Harald, please. Stop this. It’s so unnecessary. You’re brothers, after all. And think about your blood pressure …’ But her husband refused to listen to her.

      ‘Well, at least I’m not an embezzler,’ Harald snarled. He turned to Martin. ‘You didn’t know about that, did you? My dear brother has been withdrawing money from the company accounts for over a year. More than five million kronor in total. The auditors just found out about it, and that was probably what Father was referring to at dinner. So if you’re looking for a motive, there it is – five million kronor.’

      Harald pointed triumphantly at Gustav, whose face had turned so white that it seemed almost transparent.

      ‘Ha! What do you have to say for yourself now?’ Harald shook off Britten’s hand and folded his arms. He looked like the proverbial cat who’d swallowed a very plump canary.

      ‘It was … it was a loan,’ stammered Gustav. ‘I was going to pay the money back. On my word of honour. Every single öre. I only borrowed it because … I …’ He turned to look at Vivi who, like Britten, was standing beside her husband. She was staring at him wide-eyed.

      ‘Gustav?’ Again Vivi raised her hand to her throat. ‘What … what is Harald talking about? Five million kronor? Gustav?’

      With a look of despair he stretched out a hand to his wife, who quickly took a step back to avoid his touch.

      ‘Sweetheart … I …’ Gustav turned towards the window, as if trying to find a way out, but the blizzard had not let up in the slightest, and it had effectively cut off all escape routes. Then he sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. In utter silence the others stared at him. Vivi in disbelief, Harald with a triumphant expression, Bernard with obvious glee, and Britten with a certain amount of sympathy.

      ‘What did you do with the money?’ Vivi was the first to break the silence, her voice quavering. When she received no reply, she repeated her question. ‘Gustav, what did you do with the money?’

      First they heard a deep sigh, then came his answer, the words barely intelligible.

      ‘I … gambled it all away.’

      Vivi inhaled sharply. Bernard laughed. Martin saw Miranda give him a sharp jab in the side as she hissed: ‘Stop that!’

      ‘You … gambled the money away?’ Vivi shook her head and seemed unable to comprehend what she’d heard. ‘Gambled on what?’

      Still with his face buried in his hands, Gustav muttered: ‘Horses, Internet poker games – you name it. Anything that would give me that adrenalin rush. And in the beginning I won. I won big time. But then I started losing. I thought that if I kept going for a little while, I’d win it all back. Then I could return the money to the company.’