guts to do anything like that.’
Bernard laughed.
‘I’m inclined to agree, Pappa. Do you know, for a while I suspected it might be you. But that was before Matte died.’
‘Me?’ Gustav gave his son an insulted look.
‘Yes. I realize how hard Grandpa had been leaning on you lately, and I thought that … that maybe you’d decided to take matters into your own hands.’ Bernard laughed again as he extinguished his cigar in the snow.
‘Now, listen here,’ said Gustav indignantly. ‘Would I kill my own father? Sometimes I wonder what makes you tick.’ He shook his head.
‘Consider it a compliment. Everybody else seems to consider you a weakling. The fact that I suspected you means that I at least think there’s a man of action hidden in my old dad.’
In spite of himself Gustav was rather pleased by the remark.
‘Hmm … well, you may be right about that.’ He too put out his cigar in the snow. Then he stuck his hands into the pockets of his black duffel coat.
‘Do you think Harald might have …?’ Bernard let the question hover in the air.
Gustav seemed about to protest, but then he paused to give the question serious consideration.
‘If it was just Ruben, maybe. But Matte? I can’t believe he would shoot his own son in cold blood.’
‘But we don’t know what happened,’ said Bernard. ‘Maybe they started to fight, and then the gun went off … I’m not saying he did do it, but I wouldn’t rule it out.’
‘You could be right,’ said Gustav reluctantly. ‘It’s not completely out of the question. Harald also inherited his share of Pappa’s … hot temper, and he’s always been so emotional.’ He paused as if to consider what he’d just said.
‘Hopefully the police from the mainland will arrive soon. Lisette’s boyfriend seems a bit wet behind the ears, so I wouldn’t put much faith in him solving the case.’ Bernard laughed crudely.
‘No, that milquetoast is not up to much.’ Gustav also laughed.
‘Milquetoast! You sound like you’re in one of those old slapstick comedies,’ said Bernard as he opened the front door.
‘Hey, watch yourself. Don’t go insulting your father!’ Gustav led the way into the house, and they swiftly dropped all signs of humour as they put on sombre expressions that were more appropriate to the situation.
‘Could I have a word with you? Do you mind?’ Martin had stuck his head in the library to speak to Harald.
Harald cast an enquiring glance at Britten, who nodded. With one last look at his wife and daughter, he left the room to join Martin.
‘I thought we’d sit in the dining room,’ said Martin. Harald didn’t reply but simply followed. They sat down at one of the tables, and Kerstin discreetly brought each of them a cup of coffee and some sandwiches before she took the rest of the food to the library.
‘Have something to eat,’ said Martin, moving the platter of sandwiches closer to Harald. He merely grimaced and pushed the plate away.
‘I need to ask you a few questions,’ said Martin. He felt terrible about having to intrude on the man’s grief, but Harald didn’t seem to mind.
‘Go ahead and ask,’ he said wearily, rubbing his hand over his face.
‘It has to do with your father’s gun,’ said Martin, noticing that Harald flinched.
‘My father’s gun? What does that have to do with—’ And then it seemed to dawn on him. ‘Is that what …?’ His face took on an ashen pallor.
‘We won’t know for certain until the techs have done their job. But the gun is missing, so there’s reason to assume that …’ He didn’t finish the sentence. ‘Who knew about it?’ he went on, wanting Harald to confirm what he’d already been told.
Harald’s hand shook as he lifted the coffee cup. ‘Everyone in the family. They all knew about it. My father was the subject of an attempted kidnapping fifteen years ago. They were only two days from putting their plan into motion, but then one of the kidnappers got drunk
Bernard laughed.
‘I’m inclined to agree, Pappa. Do you know, for a while I suspected it might be you. But that was before Matte died.’
‘Me?’ Gustav gave his son an insulted look.
‘Yes. I realize how hard Grandpa had been leaning on you lately, and I thought that … that maybe you’d decided to take matters into your own hands.’ Bernard laughed again as he extinguished his cigar in the snow.
‘Now, listen here,’ said Gustav indignantly. ‘Would I kill my own father? Sometimes I wonder what makes you tick.’ He shook his head.
‘Consider it a compliment. Everybody else seems to consider you a weakling. The fact that I suspected you means that I at least think there’s a man of action hidden in my old dad.’
In spite of himself Gustav was rather pleased by the remark.
‘Hmm … well, you may be right about that.’ He too put out his cigar in the snow. Then he stuck his hands into the pockets of his black duffel coat.
‘Do you think Harald might have …?’ Bernard let the question hover in the air.
Gustav seemed about to protest, but then he paused to give the question serious consideration.
‘If it was just Ruben, maybe. But Matte? I can’t believe he would shoot his own son in cold blood.’
‘But we don’t know what happened,’ said Bernard. ‘Maybe they started to fight, and then the gun went off … I’m not saying he did do it, but I wouldn’t rule it out.’
‘You could be right,’ said Gustav reluctantly. ‘It’s not completely out of the question. Harald also inherited his share of Pappa’s … hot temper, and he’s always been so emotional.’ He paused as if to consider what he’d just said.
‘Hopefully the police from the mainland will arrive soon. Lisette’s boyfriend seems a bit wet behind the ears, so I wouldn’t put much faith in him solving the case.’ Bernard laughed crudely.
‘No, that milquetoast is not up to much.’ Gustav also laughed.
‘Milquetoast! You sound like you’re in one of those old slapstick comedies,’ said Bernard as he opened the front door.
‘Hey, watch yourself. Don’t go insulting your father!’ Gustav led the way into the house, and they swiftly dropped all signs of humour as they put on sombre expressions that were more appropriate to the situation.
‘Could I have a word with you? Do you mind?’ Martin had stuck his head in the library to speak to Harald.
Harald cast an enquiring glance at Britten, who nodded. With one last look at his wife and daughter, he left the room to join Martin.
‘I thought we’d sit in the dining room,’ said Martin. Harald didn’t reply but simply followed. They sat down at one of the tables, and Kerstin discreetly brought each of them a cup of coffee and some sandwiches before she took the rest of the food to the library.
‘Have something to eat,’ said Martin, moving the platter of sandwiches closer to Harald. He merely grimaced and pushed the plate away.
‘I need to ask you a few questions,’ said Martin. He felt terrible about having to intrude on the man’s grief, but Harald didn’t seem to mind.
‘Go ahead and ask,’ he said wearily, rubbing his hand over his face.
‘It has to do with your father’s gun,’ said Martin, noticing that Harald flinched.
‘My father’s gun? What does that have to do with—’ And then it seemed to dawn on him. ‘Is that what …?’ His face took on an ashen pallor.
‘We won’t know for certain until the techs have done their job. But the gun is missing, so there’s reason to assume that …’ He didn’t finish the sentence. ‘Who knew about it?’ he went on, wanting Harald to confirm what he’d already been told.
Harald’s hand shook as he lifted the coffee cup. ‘Everyone in the family. They all knew about it. My father was the subject of an attempted kidnapping fifteen years ago. They were only two days from putting their plan into motion, but then one of the kidnappers got drunk
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