clothes, but he suspected he knew who they were.
The man went over to the ambulance; the woman came over to Per’s car, and he opened the door.
‘Good evening.’
‘Good evening,’ said the woman, showing him her ID. She was from police headquarters in Växjö. ‘Was it you who called the emergency services?’
‘Yes,’ said Per.
The officer asked for his name and address, and he gave them.
‘And who are you?’ she said to Jerry, who stared sullenly back at her.
Per knew that his father had never been fond of the police. Police officers and traffic wardens were two of his bugbears.
‘This is my father, Jerry Morner,’ said Per. ‘He owns the property.’
‘I see,’ said the police officer, glancing over at the fire. ‘Well, let’s hope you’re insured. Are you, Jerry?’
No response.
‘My father’s had a stroke,’ Per explained. ‘He has some speech problems.’
The officer nodded. ‘So you were both here before the fire started?’
‘Something like that,’ said Per. ‘Jerry was here … I arrived just after.’
‘Can you tell me what you saw?’
Nothing to hide , Per thought again. Then he began to tell her about going into the house, discovering Jerry and the petrol can, helping his father out and going back inside.
The officer took out a notebook and started to write down what he said. ‘So you saw somebody upstairs? And you heard cries for help?’
‘I think so.’
‘Did you see anyone else in or near the house?’
Per was silent, considering what he had seen. A figure fleeing into the trees? And tyre tracks from a car?
‘I didn’t see anything clearly … But someone had knocked my father down, and slashed him with a knife.’
‘Oh?’
‘Bremer,’ said a voice behind Per.
‘Bremer?’ said the police officer. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Hans Bremer, he’s my father’s associate,’ said Per. ‘He might be the person inside the house.’
All three of them gazed silently at the blaze, which was still defeating the efforts of the fire-fighters. Sparks were shooting up into the sky, and the heat could be felt right across the drive.
‘OK,’ said the police officer, looking around. ‘My colleagues and I will make a start on cordoning off the area.’
‘So you’re treating this as a crime scene?’ said Per.
‘It could be.’ She turned away.
‘Is it all right if we leave?’ Per said to her back. ‘I mean, there’s nothing more we can do, is there?’
She shook her head. ‘We’ll soon be done here,’ she said over her shoulder, ‘and then you can follow us up to Växjö in your car.’
‘What for?’
‘We’d just like to do another interview back at the station. It won’t take long.’
Per sighed. He looked up at the darkening sky, then down at his watch. It was quarter to eight.
He felt very tired. The plan had been to drive Jerry back to his apartment in Kristianstad, but then he wouldn’t have time to get back to Öland tonight. And Jesper would have to spend the night alone in the cottage.
He turned around. ‘Jerry, I won’t have time to drive you home tonight. You’re going to have to come to Öland with me.’
His father looked at him. ‘Öland?’
He looked doubtful, and Per had his doubts too. After all, he had promised himself that he would keep Jerry away from Nilla and Jesper.
‘Yes … well, I mean, you are my father, after all. Part of the family.’
‘Family?’ Jerry didn’t seem to understand the word.
‘My family,’ said Per. ‘So you can come and celebrate Easter with me and Nilla and Jesper in our summer cottage – on one condition.’
Jerry waited, and Per went on: ‘That you keep quiet.’
‘Quiet?’
Per nodded. Asking someone who couldn’t manage a whole sentence to keep quiet was quite funny, of course, but he wasn’t laughing.
‘I want you to keep quiet, Jerry. You are not to tell your grandchildren what you and Bremer used to do here.’
15
Vendela was wearing a white cap and a windproof
The man went over to the ambulance; the woman came over to Per’s car, and he opened the door.
‘Good evening.’
‘Good evening,’ said the woman, showing him her ID. She was from police headquarters in Växjö. ‘Was it you who called the emergency services?’
‘Yes,’ said Per.
The officer asked for his name and address, and he gave them.
‘And who are you?’ she said to Jerry, who stared sullenly back at her.
Per knew that his father had never been fond of the police. Police officers and traffic wardens were two of his bugbears.
‘This is my father, Jerry Morner,’ said Per. ‘He owns the property.’
‘I see,’ said the police officer, glancing over at the fire. ‘Well, let’s hope you’re insured. Are you, Jerry?’
No response.
‘My father’s had a stroke,’ Per explained. ‘He has some speech problems.’
The officer nodded. ‘So you were both here before the fire started?’
‘Something like that,’ said Per. ‘Jerry was here … I arrived just after.’
‘Can you tell me what you saw?’
Nothing to hide , Per thought again. Then he began to tell her about going into the house, discovering Jerry and the petrol can, helping his father out and going back inside.
The officer took out a notebook and started to write down what he said. ‘So you saw somebody upstairs? And you heard cries for help?’
‘I think so.’
‘Did you see anyone else in or near the house?’
Per was silent, considering what he had seen. A figure fleeing into the trees? And tyre tracks from a car?
‘I didn’t see anything clearly … But someone had knocked my father down, and slashed him with a knife.’
‘Oh?’
‘Bremer,’ said a voice behind Per.
‘Bremer?’ said the police officer. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Hans Bremer, he’s my father’s associate,’ said Per. ‘He might be the person inside the house.’
All three of them gazed silently at the blaze, which was still defeating the efforts of the fire-fighters. Sparks were shooting up into the sky, and the heat could be felt right across the drive.
‘OK,’ said the police officer, looking around. ‘My colleagues and I will make a start on cordoning off the area.’
‘So you’re treating this as a crime scene?’ said Per.
‘It could be.’ She turned away.
‘Is it all right if we leave?’ Per said to her back. ‘I mean, there’s nothing more we can do, is there?’
She shook her head. ‘We’ll soon be done here,’ she said over her shoulder, ‘and then you can follow us up to Växjö in your car.’
‘What for?’
‘We’d just like to do another interview back at the station. It won’t take long.’
Per sighed. He looked up at the darkening sky, then down at his watch. It was quarter to eight.
He felt very tired. The plan had been to drive Jerry back to his apartment in Kristianstad, but then he wouldn’t have time to get back to Öland tonight. And Jesper would have to spend the night alone in the cottage.
He turned around. ‘Jerry, I won’t have time to drive you home tonight. You’re going to have to come to Öland with me.’
His father looked at him. ‘Öland?’
He looked doubtful, and Per had his doubts too. After all, he had promised himself that he would keep Jerry away from Nilla and Jesper.
‘Yes … well, I mean, you are my father, after all. Part of the family.’
‘Family?’ Jerry didn’t seem to understand the word.
‘My family,’ said Per. ‘So you can come and celebrate Easter with me and Nilla and Jesper in our summer cottage – on one condition.’
Jerry waited, and Per went on: ‘That you keep quiet.’
‘Quiet?’
Per nodded. Asking someone who couldn’t manage a whole sentence to keep quiet was quite funny, of course, but he wasn’t laughing.
‘I want you to keep quiet, Jerry. You are not to tell your grandchildren what you and Bremer used to do here.’
15
Vendela was wearing a white cap and a windproof
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