Buried Angels. Camilla Lackberg

that makes it even more peculiar,’ replied Martin, and Patrik laughed.

      ‘What’s so funny?’ asked Annika, peering at them through the glass panes of the reception area.

      ‘Nothing in particular,’ said Martin.

      Annika swivelled about in her desk chair and scooted over to the doorway of her small office. ‘How’d it go out there?’

      ‘We need to wait and see what Torbjörn can find out, but it does appear that someone was trying to burn down the house.’

      ‘I’ll make some coffee and we can talk.’ Annika headed down the hall, shooing Patrik and Martin ahead of her.

      ‘Have you told Mellberg?’ Martin asked as they went into the kitchen.

      ‘No, I didn’t think it necessary to say anything to Bertil. He’s got the weekend off, after all. No point bothering the boss yet awhile.’

      ‘You have a point,’ said Patrik, sitting down on a chair next to the window.

      ‘So here you all are, having a nice chat over coffee, and you didn’t think to invite me.’ Gösta was standing in the doorway, looking sullen.

      ‘You’re here? But it’s your day off. Why aren’t you out on the golf course?’ Patrik pulled out the chair next to him so Gösta could sit down.

      ‘Too hot. Thought I might as well come in and write up a few reports, then I can spend a couple of hours out on the course another day when it’s not so hot that you could fry an egg on the pavement. Where have you guys been? Annika mentioned something about arson.’

      ‘That’s right. It seems somebody poured petrol or some other accelerant under the front door and then ignited it.’

      ‘Good Lord!’ Gösta took a Ballerina biscuit and carefully separated the two halves. ‘Where did this happen?’

      ‘On Valö. The old summer camp,’ said Martin.

      Gösta gave a start. ‘The summer camp?’

      ‘Yes. It’s a bit odd. I don’t know whether you heard, but the youngest daughter – the one who was left behind when the whole family disappeared – has come back and taken over the place.’

      ‘Right. There have been a lot of rumours about that,’ said Gösta without lifting his gaze from the table.

      Patrik gave him a puzzled look. ‘You were here then, you must have worked on the case, right?’

      ‘Yes, I did. That’s how old I am,’ Gösta told him. ‘I wonder why she’d want to move back there.’

      ‘She mentioned something about losing a son,’ said Martin.

      ‘Ebba lost a child? When? What happened?’

      ‘They didn’t say anything else about it.’ Martin got up to fetch some milk from the refrigerator.

      Patrik frowned; it wasn’t like Gösta to show concern. But he’d seen this happen before. Every veteran police officer had an unsolved case that he couldn’t get out of his mind. An old investigation that he kept brooding over, constantly mulling it over, trying to solve the mystery before it was too late.

      ‘So that case stood out for you?’

      ‘Too right. I’d give anything to know what happened on that night before Easter.’

      ‘I’m sure you’re not alone in that,’ interjected Annika.

      ‘And now Ebba is back.’ Gösta rubbed his chin. ‘And somebody tried to burn the place down.’

      ‘Not just the house,’ said Patrik. ‘Whoever lit that fire must have known, maybe even counted on the fact, Ebba and her husband were asleep inside. It was sheer luck that Tobias woke up and was able to put out the fire.’

      ‘A bizarre coincidence, no doubt about it,’ said Martin.

      He jumped when Gösta slammed his fist on the table.

      ‘It’s no coincidence!’

      His colleagues stared at him in surprise, and a stunned silence descended over the kitchen.

      ‘Maybe we ought to take a look at the old case,’ Patrik said at last. ‘Just to be sure.’

      ‘I can show you what we have,’ said Gösta. His gaunt, greyhound-like face had regained its eager expression. ‘Every so often I take out the files and go through them again, so I can easily dig them out.’

      ‘Okay, do that. Then we’ll help you review the evidence. Maybe we’ll come up with something new if we approach the case with fresh eyes. Annika, could you get out everything you can find in the files about Ebba?’

      ‘Leave it to me,’ she said as she began clearing the table.

      ‘We should probably also check out the finances of Mr and Mrs Stark. And see whether the house on Valö is insured,’ said Martin, casting a cautious glance at Gösta.

      ‘Are you saying they did it themselves? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. They were inside when the house started to burn, and it was Ebba’s husband who put out the fire.’

      ‘It’s still worth investigating. Who knows, maybe he set the fire but then had regrets. I’ll make a few enquiries.’

      Gösta opened his mouth to say something but changed his mind and stomped out of the kitchen.

      Patrik stood up. ‘I think Erica has quite a bit of information too.’

      ‘Erica? Why’s that?’ Martin stopped mid-stride.

      ‘She’s been interested in the case for a long time. It’s a story that everybody in Fjällbacka knows, and considering what Erica writes about, it’s understandable that she would take a keen interest.’

      ‘So find out what she knows. The more information, the better.’

      Patrik nodded, although he was feeling a bit hesitant. He knew what would happen if he allowed Erica to get involved in the investigation.

      ‘Sure, I’ll have a talk with her,’ he said, hoping that this wouldn’t be a decision he’d come to regret.

      Percy’s hand trembled slightly as he poured two glasses of his best cognac. He handed one of them to his wife.

      ‘I simply don’t understand what they’re thinking.’ Pyttan downed her drink in several swift gulps.

      ‘Grandfather would be turning over in his grave if he knew about this.’

      ‘You’ve got to solve this somehow, Percy.’ She held out her glass, and he didn’t hesitate to refill it. It was still only early afternoon, but somewhere in the world it was past five o’clock. And if ever there was a day that called for strong drinks, this was it.

      ‘Me? What am I supposed to do?’ His voice rose to a falsetto, and he was shaking so badly that half the cognac splashed over the rim of Pyttan’s glass.

      She pulled her hand away. ‘Watch what you’re doing, you idiot!’

      ‘Sorry. I’m sorry.’ Percy sank down on to one of the big, worn armchairs in the library. They heard a ripping sound, and he realized that the upholstery had split. ‘Bloody hell!’

      He jumped up and began kicking the chair in rage. All around him everything was falling apart. The whole manor was on the verge of collapse, his inheritance had been used up long ago, and now these revenue agency bastards were claiming he had to fork over a large sum of money that he didn’t have.

      ‘Calm down.’ Pyttan wiped her hands on a napkin. ‘There must be some way to work this out. But I don’t understand how all the money can be gone.’

      Percy turned to stare at her. He knew how frightening that thought was, but he felt nothing but scorn for her.