tricked you, and me too. He came here and told me that Sten Schyttelius suspected that Louise Måårdh had embezzled money. No one else has ever heard anything like that and, as is commonly known, Sten Schyttelius is dead. Urban Berg probably thought it was safe to claim that a dead man had uttered suspicions about financial swindles. He lied to my face.”
“But why? Who could conceive of a pastor who lies?”
“In order to get rid of his toughest competitor for the rector’s position. Berg has two convictions for drunk driving. The only thing Bengt Måårdh has is a reputation as a ladies’ man—and actually, now that I think of it, that charge also came from Berg. Even if it is finally established that the accusations against Louise are unfounded, the decision about the new rector will have been made: Urban Berg would have become the rector of Kullahult. We’ve been joking during the investigation and saying that the pastors in this case are ‘petty gossiping pigs,’ but Urban Berg is something else. He’s a liar and a schemer.”
Kurt sighed. “And what do you think we should do about it?”
“Expose Urban Berg. We’re going to tell the public just what happened. I’m going to pull out the old drunk-driving convictions. I’m going to recount exactly what he said when he came to see me last week. Of course, we’re going to make it very clear that Louise Måårdh is innocent. You’re going to write the whole truth.”
“Is there any foundation to the charge that Mr. and Mrs. Måårdh spent a suspicious amount of money in the last few years?”
Irene smiled as she replied. “Bengt told me that he and his brother inherited a large sum of money from a childless uncle a few years ago. Neither Louise nor Bengt told anyone else about this inheritance, so that there wouldn’t be a lot of gossip.”
“And I’ll write that as well,” Kurt determined.
“Of course.”
“Poor Urban Berg. And poor me.”
“No one feels sorry for either of you. The least you can do is try to make things right. Innocent people have been hurt. Remember, there must be bold headlines on the front page!”
“Okay, okay. I’ll do it.”
“WELL. TWO days in London at our expense, and the only thing you come home with is a bandage on your forehead.”
Superintendent Andersson drummed his fingers on his desktop. Irene had just finished her account of her trip to London. They were reviewing the case in the afternoon, since morning prayers had been cut short because the superintendent had had to go to a superintendents’ meeting. With good reason, it could be assumed that this was one cause of his bad mood.
Another was that Jonny Blom had called in sick again. Since the unit was understaffed, if a single person was missing it was immediately felt. The ones who remained nearly collapsed under the requirements of the job. Work accumulated on their desks. Prioritizing was tough. It wasn’t easy explaining to the little old lady who had been threatened with a knife and robbed of a hundred and forty-three SEK, when she called for the seventh time in three days, that this investigation didn’t have the highest priority. For her, what had happened was a nightmare. For the police, it was yet another piece of paper on their desks. Maybe they would catch the culprit if there were further similar attacks in the area. If they were lucky, they might get a good description. If not, that report would just sink farther down under the pile of new cases.
“I actually think it provided us with a lot of new information. For example, I learned that Rebecka brought Christian Lefévre to Sweden last summer. They drove to Kullahult but never met her parents or brother. They drove up to Stockholm to discuss a job for Save the Children. Then they flew straight home to London again from Stockholm, without getting in touch with her parents,” said Irene.
“She never told her parents that they had been by the rectory?” Fredrik asked.
“I asked, and she said no.”
“What did they do for Save the Children?” Hannu wondered.
“No idea. That was the last question I was able to ask before she collapsed. Maybe we should contact Save the Children in Stockholm?”
“What the hell? They can’t have anything to do with the murders!” the superintendent exclaimed.
It really wasn’t one of his better days. Irene was overcome by a strong desire to send him over to Donna Thompson. Partly to get rid of him