‘Yes, that too. And dead boys in attics. So you’ll probably have to be a bit more precise if I’m going to be able to tell you anything interesting.’
Sofia feels Victoria taking over. The lies pop up by themselves, without her having to think about them. The whole thing is an act, and she knows her role by heart.
‘Petter Christoffersson was at Fredell’s Building Supplies out in Sickla working last winter. He says he remembers driving a load of insulation material to an apartment on S?dermalm just after New Year. He doesn’t remember exactly where, but it was somewhere in the area of SoFo. He claims that the woman they delivered the supplies to was the same woman Samuel was with the day before his body was found.’
Sofia clears her throat.
‘Can you trust that he’s telling the truth and not just trying to make himself look important? Didn’t you say he was trying to bargain?’
Jeanette folds her arms and rocks on her chair. She doesn’t take her eyes off Sofia’s.
‘That’s exactly what I’m wondering. But there’s something believable about his story. Details that make it sound credible.’
She leans forward and lowers her voice slightly.
‘Admittedly, his description is extremely vague. A fair-haired woman, a bit above average height, blue eyes. He said he thought she was attractive, maybe a bit more attractive than most, he said. But otherwise that could describe any number of people. I mean, it could even be you.’
Smile.
Sofia laughs and pulls a face to show what a ridiculous idea she thinks that is.
‘I can see you’re not feeling too good,’ Jeanette says. ‘Maybe it would be best if you went home.’
‘Yes … I think so.’
‘Get some rest. I can come over to your place after work.’
‘Do you want to?’
‘Definitely. Go home to bed now. I’ll bring some wine. Does that sound OK?’
Jeanette gives Sofia a long look.
Vita Bergen – Sofia Zetterlund’s Apartment
THE METRO FROM R?dhuset to Central Station, then change to the green line to Medborgarplatsen. Then the same walk as a couple of hours before, just the opposite direction. Folkungagatan, four blocks, then home. One hundred and twelve steps.
When she gets home she puts the CD she’d copied into her laptop.
‘First interview with Bengt Bergman. The time is 13.12. Lead interviewer Jeanette Kihlberg, assisted by Jens Hurtig. Bengt, you’re a suspect in a number of crimes, but this interview is primarily concerned with rape and/or aggravated rape, as well as bodily harm and/or grievous bodily harm, which carries a minimum sentence of two years in prison. Shall we begin?’
‘Hmm …’
‘Can I ask you to speak clearly into the microphone from now on? Obviously if you nod it can’t be heard on the recording. We want you to express yourself as clearly as possible. OK. Let’s begin.’
There’s a brief pause, and Sofia can hear someone drinking, then putting a glass down on the table.
‘How does it feel, Bengt?’
‘To begin with, I’m wondering what sort of formal training you’ve had?’
She recognises her dad’s voice immediately.
‘What makes you competent to question me? I’ve done more than eight years of higher education, I’ve got a degree, and I’ve studied a fair bit of psychology on my own. Do you know Alice Miller?’
His voice makes Sofia start, and she pulls back automatically, raising her arms to shield herself.
Even as an adult her body is so primed that it reacts instinctively. The adrenalin is pumping, and her body is ready for flight.
‘Bengt, you have to understand that I’m the one leading this interview, not you. Is that clear?’
‘I don’t really know –’
Jeanette Kihlberg interrupts him at once. ‘I said, is that clear?’
‘Yes.’
Sofia understands that his defiance is because he’s still used to being in charge and feels uncomfortable in the role of the accused.
‘I asked how you think it feels?’
‘Well, what do you think? How would you like to sit here, falsely accused of a whole lot of revolting things?’
‘I’d probably think it was awful, and do anything I could to try to get things sorted out. Is that how you feel? That you want to tell us why you were arrested?’
‘As I’m sure you already know, I was stopped by the police south of the city, when I was on my way home to Grisslinge. That’s where we live, out in V?rmd?. I’d picked up that woman who was standing at the side of the road, covered in blood. My only intention was to help her, and get her to S?dermalm Hospital so she could get proper treatment. That can’t be a punishable offence, surely?’
His voice, his way of pronouncing his words, the pauses and his forced calm make her feel like she’s ten years old again.
‘So you’re saying you’re innocent of causing the injuries to the plaintiff, Tatiana Achatova, as documented on the charge sheet you’ve already read?’
‘This is utterly ridiculous!’
‘Do you feel like reading what it says on the sheet?’
‘Let’s get this straight – I abhor violence. I never watch television except for the news, and on the rare occasions that I do watch a film or go to the cinema, I choose quality films. I simply don’t wish to have anything to do with the wickedness that’s so widespread in this –’
The feeling of the pine-needle-strewn path down to the lake. She had already learned as a six-year-old how to touch him so that he was nice, and she remembers the taste of Aunt Elsa’s sweets. The cold water from the well, and the stiff brush on her skin.
Jeanette Kihlberg interrupts him again. ‘Do you want to read it, or shall I?’
‘Well, I’d rather you did. Like I said, I don’t want to –’
‘According to the doctor who examined Tatiana Achatova, she was admitted to S?dermalm Hospital on Sunday evening at approximately 1900 hours, with the following injuries: severe ruptures in her anus, as well as …’
It’s as if they’re talking about her, and she remembers the pain.
How much it had hurt, even though he had said it was lovely.
How confused she had been when she realised what she did with him was wrong.
Sofia can’t bear to hear any more and turns it off.
His terrible deeds have evidently caught up with him at last, she thinks. But he won’t be punished for what he did to me. That’s not fair. I’m forced to survive with my scars while he can just go on and on.
Sofia lies down on the floor and stares up at the ceiling. She just wants to sleep. But how can she?
Her name is Victoria Bergman, and he is still there.
Bengt Bergman. Her dad. He is still alive.
And no more than twenty minutes away from her.
When they hug, Sofia can tell that Jeanette has showered and smells of a different perfume to earlier. They go into the living room, and Jeanette puts a wine box on the coffee table.
‘Sit yourself down. I’ll get some glasses. I’m assuming you’d like some?’
‘Yes, please. It’s been a hell of a week.’
Get the carafe. Fill it up with wine. Fill the glass.
Sofia pours some wine.