Tilda had vague memories of being helped up the steps to the veranda late that night. It was still cold outside, but it felt as if the wind from the sea was beginning to subside. It was Joakim Westin who was walking beside her, supporting her along a newly cleared track. High banks of snow rose up on either side of them. of being helped up the steps to the veranda late that night. It was still cold outside, but it felt as if the wind from the sea was beginning to subside. It was Joakim Westin who was walking beside her, supporting her along a newly cleared track. High banks of snow rose up on either side of them."Did you call for help?" he asked.She nodded. "They said they'd get out here as soon as they could ... but I don't know when that will be."They pa.s.sed a snowdrift with a piece of material sticking out. It was a leather jacket."Who's that?" asked Joakim."His name was Martin Ahlquist," said Tilda.She closed her eyes. There would be many questions about this night: about what had gone wrong, what she had done right and what she ought to have done differently-but she was bound to ask herself more questions than anyone else would. But she just didn't have the strength to think about that right now.The house was quiet. Joakim led her through the corridors to a big room where a mattress made up into a bed lay on the floor. There was a tiled stove nearby; it was warm, and she lay down and relaxed. Her nose was aching and was still full of blood-she couldn't breathe with her mouth closed.The wind was howling around the house. But at last she fell asleep.Tilda slept deeply, but was woken occasionally by a throbbing pain in her head and with memories of Martin's body in the snow-and by a spine-chilling fear of being back out there in the darkness of the barn, where pale arms with long fingers reached out for her. It took time to relax.Sometime before dawn a shadow leaned over her. She gave a start."Tilda?"It was Joakim Westin again. He carried on talking, slowly and clearly as if he were addressing a small child."Your colleagues called, Tilda. ... They're coming soon.""Good," she said.Her voice sounded thick through her broken nose. She closed her eyes and asked, "And Henrik?""Who?""Henrik Jansson," said Tilda. "The guy on the veranda ... how's he doing?""Pretty good," said Joakim. "I put a fresh pressure bandage on.""Tommy? Is he here?""He's gone ... the police are going to look for him when they get here."Tilda nodded and went back to sleep.An indefinable amount of time later she was woken by a droning noise and quiet voices, but she hadn't the strength to wonder what was going on.Then she heard Joakim's voice again:"The cars can't get through, Tilda ... they've borrowed an all-terrain vehicle from the army."Soon after that the room was filled with voices and movement, and she was helped up out of bed, somewhat roughly.The warm air suddenly disappeared, she was out in the cold again, but now there was barely a breath of wind. She was walking along a path that had been cleared of snow, with white mounds all around her.Christmas Eve, she thought.A door closed, another opened, she was placed on a bunk beneath a weak lightbulb. Then she was left in peace.Silence fell.She was lying in an army vehicle and she could see a body below her on the floor, wrapped in a plastic sack. It wasn't moving.Then someone beside her coughed. Tilda raised her head and saw another person lying a few yards away with a gray blanket over their legs. The body moved slightly.It was a man. He was lying on his back with his head turned away from her, but she recognized his clothes."Henrik," she said.No reply."Henrik!" she shouted, despite the fact that it made her ribs hurt."What?" asked the man, turning his head toward her.And she finally got to see his face clearly: Henrik Jansson, flooring contractor and thief. He looked just like any twenty-five-year-old guy, but his face was exhausted and chalk white. Tilda took a deep breath."Henrik, your f.u.c.king ax broke my nose."He was silent.Tilda asked, "Have you done anything else I should know about?"Still he didn't reply."There was a death here on the point in the fall," she went on. "A woman drowned."She heard Henrik move."Some people heard a boat down by the point on the day she died," said Tilda. "Was it your boat?"Then Henrik suddenly opened his eyes. "Not mine," he said quietly."Not yours?" said Tilda. "Another boat?""But I did see it," said Henrik."Did you, indeed?""I was standing by the landing stage the day she died ...""Katrine Westin," said Tilda."She had a visitor," he went on. "In a big white boat.""Did you recognize it?""No, but it was bigger than mine, built for longer trips ... a small yacht. It moored by the lighthouses and someone was standing there. I think it was her ...""Okay."Tilda suddenly realized she just didn't have the strength to talk anymore."I saw saw it," said Henrik. it," said Henrik.Tilda met his eyes."We can ... talk about it later," she said. "I'm sure you'll be having plenty of interviews."Henrik just breathed out with a heavy sigh.Silence fell in the vehicle again. Tilda just wanted to close her eyes and doze off, so that she could escape the pain and thoughts of Martin."Did you hear anything in the house last night?" Henrik suddenly asked."What?"A door slammed. Then the carrier's engine roared into life, and the vehicle moved off."Knocking noises?"Tilda didn't understand what he meant. "I didn't hear anything," she said through the noise of the engine."Me neither," said Henrik. "No knocking. I think it was down to the lantern ... or the board. But it's all quiet now."He'd been stabbed and was well on his way to ending up in jail, but Tilda still thought he sounded relieved.

42

On the morning of Christmas Eve it was still dark at Eel Point. The power hadn't been restored, and outside the windows huge banks of snow rose up. it was still dark at Eel Point. The power hadn't been restored, and outside the windows huge banks of snow rose up.Three police officers and a search dog had arrived in the all-terrain vehicle during the night and searched all the buildings without finding Martin Ahlquist's murderer. Joakim had given them permission to look wherever they liked. After about three o'clock, when they had left for the hospital with Tilda Davidsson and the guy who had been stabbed, he actually managed to sleep for a few hours.For the first time in several weeks he slept peacefully, but when he woke up at around eight in the silent house he couldn't get back to sleep. The rooms were still pitch black, so Joakim got up and lit a couple of paraffin lamps. An hour later a stronger light penetrated the snow-covered windows.It was the sun, rising over the sea. Joakim wanted to see it, but had to go upstairs, open the window on the landing, and knock aside one of the shutters in order to be able to look out toward the sea.The coast had been transformed into a winter landscape with a deep blue sky above sparkling snow dunes. The red walls of the barn looked almost black against the dazzling snow.There was an arctic silence all around the place. There wasn't a breath of wind-perhaps for the first time since Joakim had moved in.The blizzard had blown itself out. Before moving on, it had hurled up a three-feet-high wall of sea ice down by the sh.o.r.e.Joakim looked toward the sh.o.r.e. He had read about old lighthouses that tumbled into the sea during fierce storms, but the twin lighthouses had survived the blizzard. The towers rose above the banks of ice.Joakim lit fires in the tiled stove at around nine, driving the cold out of the house. Then he woke the children."Happy Christmas," he said.They had fallen asleep with their clothes on in Gabriel's bed. That was how he had found them when he came in from the barn the previous night. He had covered them with blankets and let them sleep on.Now Joakim was ready for questions about what had happened during the night, about the noise of shooting and all the rest of it, but Livia merely stretched."Did you sleep well?"She nodded. "Mommy was here.""Here?""She came in to see us while you were gone."Joakim looked at his daughter, then at his son. Gabriel nodded slowly, as if everything his sister said was true.Don't tell lies, Livia, Joakim wanted to say. Mommy can't have been here Mommy can't have been here.But instead he asked, "So what did Mommy say?""She said you'd come soon," said Livia, looking at him. "But you didn't."Joakim sat down on the side of the bed. "I'm here now," he said. "I'm not going to disappear again."Livia looked at him suspiciously and got out of bed without a word.Joakim woke Freddy, who was a quiet, calm young man without his brother. There hadn't been room for him in the army vehicle, so Freddy had stayed behind, handcuffed to one of the radiators in the hallway."Still no sign of your brother," said Joakim.Freddy nodded wearily."What were you actually looking for?""Anything ... valuable paintings.""By Torun Rambe?" said Joakim. "We've only got one. Were you looking for more in the barn?""There were no more in the house," said Freddy. "They were somewhere else, the board said. So we went out and set fire to the staircase."Joakim looked at him. "But why?""Don't know.""Are you going to do it again?"Freddy shook his head.Tilda had given Joakim the keys to the handcuffs, and he decided to show a little good faith and trust this Christmas Eve. He released Freddy from the radiator.When the power came back on at about eleven, Freddy settled down in front of the television to watch Christmas programs while he waited for the police to come and take him in. With a mournful expression he gazed at cartoons about Santa, live broadcasts showing people dancing around Christmas trees, and a cooking show filmed in some snow-covered mountain chalet.Livia and Gabriel sat down beside him, but none of them spoke. There was still a kind of Christmas community spirit, and they all seemed to relax.Joakim went and sat in the kitchen with the notebook he had found next to Ethel's jacket. For an hour he read Mirja Rambe's dramatic accounts of life at Eel Point. And the story of what had happened to her there.At the end there were some blank pages, then a couple that had been written by someone other than Mirja.Joakim looked more closely and suddenly recognized Katrine's handwriting. Her notes were scrawled, as if she had been in a great hurry.He read them several times, without fully understanding what she meant.At twelve o'clock Joakim prepared Christmas rice pudding for everyone. Joakim prepared Christmas rice pudding for everyone.The telephone was working, and the first call came after lunch. Joakim answered and heard Gerlof Davidsson's quiet voice:"So now you know what a real blizzard is like.""Yes," said Joakim, "we sure do."He looked out of the window and thought about last night's visitors."It was expected," said Gerlof. "By me, anyway. But I thought it would come a bit later. ... How did you cope?""Pretty well. All the buildings are still standing, but the roofs are damaged.""And the road?""Gone," said Joakim. "There's just snow.""In the old days it used to take at least a week to get through to some properties after a blizzard," said Gerlof. "But it's quicker these days.""We'll be fine," said Joakim. "I did as you said and bought plenty of tinned stuff.""Good. Are you and the children alone now?""No, we still have one guest here. We did have several visitors, but they've gone. ...It's been quite a difficult Christmas.""I know," said Gerlof. "Tilda called me this morning from the hospital. She'd been catching burglars out at your place.""They came here to steal paintings," said Joakim. "Torun Rambe's paintings ... They'd got it into their heads that they were here somewhere.""Oh?""But we only have one painting here. Almost all the others were destroyed, but not by Torun or her daughter Mirja. It was a fisherman who threw them in the sea.""When was that?""Winter 1962.""Sixty-two," said Gerlof. "That was the year my brother Ragnar froze to death on the coast.""Ragnar Davidsson ... was he your brother?" said Joakim."My older brother.""I don't think he froze to death," said Joakim. "I think he was poisoned."Then he told Gerlof what he had read in Mirja Rambe's book about her last night at Eel Point, and about the eel fisherman who set off into the storm. Gerlof listened without asking any questions."It sounds as if Ragnar drank wood alcohol," was all he said. "It's supposed to taste like ordinary schnapps, but of course it makes you ill. It kills you, in fact.""I suppose Mirja saw it as some kind of fair punishment," said Joakim."But did he really destroy the paintings?" said Gerlof. "I'm just wondering. If my brother got hold of something, he kept it ... he was too mean to destroy things."Joakim was silent. He was thinking."There was something else, before I forget," said Gerlof. "I've recorded something for you.""Recorded?""I've been sitting here doing some thinking," said Gerlof. "It's a tape with a few ideas about what happened at Eel Point ... you'll get it when they start delivering the mail again."Half an hour after Gerlof had hung up, the police called from Kalmar to say they would be coming to collect the suspect from Eel Point-if Joakim could just find them a piece of flat, open ground near the house where a helicopter could land. Gerlof had hung up, the police called from Kalmar to say they would be coming to collect the suspect from Eel Point-if Joakim could just find them a piece of flat, open ground near the house where a helicopter could land."We've got plenty of flat ground around here," said Joakim.Then he went out and shoveled a square in the field behind the house, hacking away the ice so that a black cross in the frozen ground marked the spot. When he heard a throbbing sound in the southwest, he went in and interrupted Freddy's viewing."Are those your cars?" Joakim asked as they were waiting out in the field. He pointed to a couple of curved mounds of snow on the road down to Eel Point. A few blunt metal corners were protruding from the drifts.Freddy nodded. "And a boat," he said."Stolen?""Yeah."Then the helicopter swept in over the field and it was impossible to talk anymore. It hovered for a moment, whirling white clouds up from the ground, before landing in the center of the cross.Two police officers wearing helmets and dark jumpsuits climbed out and came over to them. Freddy went along with them, without making any kind of protest."Are you all okay here now?" shouted one of the police officers.Joakim simply nodded. Freddy waved, and he waved back briefly.When the helicopter had vanished in the direction of the mainland, Joakim plowed back through the snow, over toward the road and the two snow-covered vehicles.He brushed away the snow from the sides of the largest of them, a van. Then he peered inside.Someone was sitting in there, motionless.Joakim seized the handle and opened the door.It was a man, curled up as if he had desperately tried to preserve the warmth in the driver's seat.Joakim didn't need to feel the man's pulse to realize he was dead.The key was in the ignition and it was switched on. The engine must have been ticking over until it stopped sometime during the night, and the cold began to creep back into the van again.Joakim closed the door gently. Then he went back to the house to call the police and tell them the last burglar had been found.

43

The wind stayed away and the sun kept on shining over Eel Point for the next few days. and the sun kept on shining over Eel Point for the next few days.The snow didn't start to thaw, but now and again a piece of the white edging hanging from the roofs came loose and fell soundlessly into the drifts on the ground. The garden birds were back outside the kitchen window, and on the morning of the twenty-sixth the isolation from the outside world was broken when a truck with a huge plow in front of it drove over from Marnas. It kept going in a straight line out along the coast road, but looked as if it were rolling along through a white sea.When he got out the blower and starting blowing away the snow leading from the house, Joakim's goal was to reach the plowed main road in an hour. It took more than two hours, but after that they could get out easily once again.Joakim put new batteries in his flashlight, went out onto the veranda steps and over to the barn.The staircase leading to the loft was black and in pieces after the fire, but there was no sign of any smoke anywhere.He looked over toward the other end of the barn. He hesitated, but then went over and crawled in under the false wall.Inside the hidden room he switched on the flashlight and listened for sounds from the upper floor, but there was nothing. Then he climbed up the ladder.Pale sunlight filtered in through the cracks in the wall as he pulled himself up into the prayer room.Everything was quiet. The letters and mementos still lay on the old wooden benches, but no one was sitting there.He started to move along the rows. When he reached the front, he saw that both the Christmas present for Katrine and Ethel's jacket were still there.But the parcel had been opened. The tape had been pulled away and the paper folded to one side.Joakim left the parcel where it was; he didn't dare look to see if the green tunic was gone.Instead he picked up Ethel's denim jacket for the first time-and suddenly his fingers felt a small, flat object sliding around inside the fabric.Joakim had placed the denim jacket in a plastic bag when Inspector Gote Holmblad arrived in his own car, two days after Christmas. denim jacket in a plastic bag when Inspector Gote Holmblad arrived in his own car, two days after Christmas.By this time an ambulance and a breakdown truck had already been to Eel Point and taken away the body of the last suspect. The crime scene team had also been there, digging for bullets in the snow. On the local radio news, Tommy had been reported as one of two deaths at the house during the snowstorm, although he wasn't mentioned by name. The storm over northern oland was already being referred to as "the Christmas blizzard," and was cla.s.sed as one of the worst snowstorms since the Second World War.Holmblad got out of the car and wished Joakim season's greetings."Thanks, same to you," he said. "And thank you for coming.""I'm actually on leave until New Year's," said Holmblad. "But I wanted to see how you were getting on out here.""Everything's very calm now," said Joakim."I can see that. The storm has pa.s.sed."Joakim nodded and asked, "And Tilda Davidsson ... how's she doing?""Pretty good, considering," said Holmblad. "I spoke to her yesterday ... she's left the hospital and is at home with her mother at the moment.""But she was here alone? It wasn't a colleague who ...""No," said Holmblad, "it was her tutor from the police academy ... a father of two, it's a real tragedy. He shouldn't really have been here." The inspector looked thoughtful, and added, "Of course, things could have gone very badly for Davidsson too, but she coped very well.""She did," said Joakim, opening the door to the house. "I've got a few things I'd really like to show you-would you like to come in for a while?""Sure."Joakim led the inspector into the kitchen, where he had cleared the kitchen table."There," he said.On the table lay the bag containing Ethel's denim jacket, and the items he had found in the jacket. There was the handwritten note-and a small gold case that had been tucked inside the lining of the jacket."What's this?" said Holmblad."I'm not sure," said Joakim. "But I hope it's evidence."When Holmblad had left, Joakim took a rucksack and went down through the snow to the northern lighthouse.On the way there he glanced over toward the forest in the north. Most of the trees seemed to have survived the storm, apart from a few of the older pines closest to the sh.o.r.e, which were lying on the ground.The white tower sparkled against the dark blue sky. Before he even set off along the stone jetty, he could see that it would be difficult to get inside it. The waves had crashed over the islands during the blizzard, and both lighthouses where encased in chalk-white ice. It looked like plaster that had set, and extended around the lower part of the tower in an arctic embrace.Joakim put his rucksack down outside the door and unzipped it. He took out the keys to the lighthouse, along with a large hammer, a spray can of oil for the lock, and three thermos flasks full of boiling water.It took him almost half an hour to get rid of all the ice around the door and undo the lock. It was still only possible to open the door a little way, but Joakim managed to squeeze through the gap.He had the flashlight with him, and switched it on when he got inside.Every little sound the soles of his shoes made on the cement floor echoed up into the tower, but he didn't hear any footsteps on the stairs. If some old lighthouse keeper was still up there Joakim didn't want to disturb him, so he stayed downstairs.Just a chance, Gerlof Davidsson had said. My brother Ragnar had the keys to the lighthouses, so there's just a chance that they might be there My brother Ragnar had the keys to the lighthouses, so there's just a chance that they might be there.There was a small wooden door leading into the s.p.a.ce under the staircase, a storeroom on the ground floor of the lighthouse. Joakim opened the door and walked in, stooping low.A calendar from 1961 hung on the stone wall. Gas cans, empty booze bottles, and old lanterns stood on the floor. The collection of objects in here made him think of all the old stuff piled high in the hayloft. But this was a little more organized, and along the curve of the outside wall stood several wooden boxes.The lids weren't secured. Joakim lifted up the closest one and shone the flashlight into the box.He saw metal pipes-sections of old drainpipes approximately three feet long, piled up at the bottom of the box. They would have been fixed together and put up around the house at Eel Point several decades earlier, if Ragnar Davidsson hadn't stolen them and hidden them in the lighthouse.Joakim put his hand in and carefully lifted out one of the pipes.

44

"Where are we going?" asked Livia as they drove away from Eel Point the day before New Year's Eve, with the car packed full. asked Livia as they drove away from Eel Point the day before New Year's Eve, with the car packed full.She was still in a bit of a bad mood, Joakim noticed."We're going to see your grandmother in Kalmar, then we're going up to see your other granny in Stockholm," he said. "But first of all we're going to visit Mommy."Livia didn't say any more. She just rested her hand on Rasputin's cat basket and looked out at the white landscape.Fifteen minutes later they pulled up at Marnas church. Joakim parked, took a bag out of the car, and opened the wooden gate."Come on," he said to the children.Joakim hadn't been there many times during the fall-but it felt better now. A little better.There was just as much snow in the churchyard as everywhere else along the coast, but the main pathways had been cleared."Are we going far?" asked Livia as they walked along the side of the church."No," said Joakim, "we're almost there now."At last they were standing in a row in front of Katrine's grave.The gravestone was covered in snow, like all the others in the churchyard. There was only one corner showing, until Joakim bent down and quickly swept it clean with his hand, so that the inscription could be seen.KATRINE MaNSTRaLE WESTIN, it said, along with her dates.Joakim took a step backwards and stood between Livia and Gabriel."This is where Mommy is," he said.His words didn't make time stop, but the children stood motionless beside him."Do you think it ... looks nice?" asked Joakim in the silence.Livia didn't reply. It was Gabriel who reacted first."I think Mommy will be cold," he said.Then he walked cautiously up to the grave in his father's footsteps and silently began to brush away all the snow. First of all from Katrine's headstone, then from the ground below it. A bunch of shriveled roses appeared. Joakim had placed them there on his last visit, before the snow came.Gabriel seemed happy with the result. He rubbed his nose with his gloved hand and looked at his father."Well done," said Joakim.Then he took a grave lantern out of the plastic bag. The ground was frozen, but it was still possible to push it down firmly. Inside he placed a thick candle. It would burn for five days, into the new year."Shall we go back to the car?" Joakim asked, looking at the children.Gabriel nodded, but bent down and started to tug at something lying beneath the snow next to Katrine's headstone.It was a piece of pale green fabric, stiff and frozen to the ground. A sweater? The strip Gabriel had hold of looked like a sleeve.Joakim felt a sudden icy chill down his back. He took a step forward."Leave that, Gabriel," he said.Gabriel looked at his father and let go of the material. Joakim bent down quickly and covered it with a layer of snow."Shall we go?" he said."I want to stay for a little while," said Livia, her gaze fixed on the headstone.Joakim took Gabriel by the hand and walked back to the main path. They waited there for Livia, who was still standing looking at the grave. After a few minutes she joined them and the family walked back to the car in silence.Gabriel fell asleep in his seat after just a few minutes.Livia didn't start talking to Joakim until they were back on the main highway, and she didn't mention Katrine. She asked how many days of the holiday were left, and talked about what she was going to do when preschool started again. Just small talk, but Joakim was happy to listen to her.They arrived in Kalmar at about twelve o'clock and rang Mirja Rambe's doorbell. She hadn't made a special effort to clean up the apartment for Christmas-quite the opposite, the piles of books on the dusty parquet floor had grown even higher. There was a Christmas tree in the main room, but it had no decorations on it and the needles had already started to fall. at about twelve o'clock and rang Mirja Rambe's doorbell. She hadn't made a special effort to clean up the apartment for Christmas-quite the opposite, the piles of books on the dusty parquet floor had grown even higher. There was a Christmas tree in the main room, but it had no decorations on it and the needles had already started to fall."I had intended to come out and see you all on Christmas Day," said Mirja as she met them in the hallway. "But I didn't have a helicopter."Ulf, Mirja's young boyfriend, was at home and seemed really pleased to see them, especially the children. He took Livia and Gabriel into the kitchen to show them some toffee that he was in the middle of making on the stove.Joakim took The Book of the Blizzard The Book of the Blizzard out of his bag and gave it back to the author. out of his bag and gave it back to the author."Thanks for the loan," he said."Was it any good?""Sure," said Joakim. "And I understand some things much better now."Mirja Rambe leafed through the handwritten pages in silence."It's a book of facts," she said. "I started writing it when Katrine told me you were going to buy Eel Point.""Katrine wrote a couple of pages at the end," said Joakim."About what?""Well ... it's a kind of explanation."Mirja placed the book on the table between them. "I'll read it when you've gone," she said."I did wonder about one thing," said Joakim. "How could you know so much about the people who'd lived at Eel Point?"Mirja gave him a forbidding look. "They used to talk to me when I lived there," she said. "Have you never talked to the dead?"Joakim couldn't answer that one."So it's all true?" he said instead."You can never be sure of that," said Mirja. "Not when it comes to ghosts.""But all the stuff you were involved in ... did that actually happen?"Mirja lowered her eyes. "More or less," she said. "I did meet Markus one last time down at the cafe in Borgholm. We talked ... then I went back to his place. His parents were out. We went up to the apartment, and he pulled me down onto the floor. Not exactly a romantic seduction, but I let him do it-I mean, I thought it proved that we ... that we were a couple. But when Markus got up afterward and I'd pulled my crumpled skirt back on, he wouldn't look me in the eye. He just said he'd met someone else on the mainland. They were getting engaged. Markus referred to what we'd done in his room as saying goodbye."There was silence in the room."So your boyfriend Markus was Katrine's father?"Mirja nodded. "He was a young man on his way out into the world ... who closed the chapter involving me in an appropriate way. Then he moved on.""But he didn't die in a ferry accident, did he?""No," said Mirja. "But he should have done."They fell silent again. Joakim could hear Livia laughing in the kitchen. It sounded like a lighter version of her mother's laugh."You should have told Katrine who her father was," he said. "She had the right to know."Mirja merely snorted. "We get by ...I didn't know who my father was either."Joakim gave up. He nodded and stood up. "We've brought some Christmas presents," he said. "I need some help to carry them up.""Ulf will help," said Mirja. "Are the presents for me?" Joakim looked over at her studio, with all its bright summer paintings."Oh yes," he said. "Lots of presents."Five hours after leaving Mirja's apartment, Joakim and the children arrived in Stockholm. It was almost as cold there as on oland. The area where Ingrid Westin lived was quiet and calm. She was the direct opposite of Mirja Rambe; her house had been cleaned to within an inch of its life, ready for the new year. Mirja's apartment, Joakim and the children arrived in Stockholm. It was almost as cold there as on oland. The area where Ingrid Westin lived was quiet and calm. She was the direct opposite of Mirja Rambe; her house had been cleaned to within an inch of its life, ready for the new year."I've got a job," Joakim told her as they were having dinner."On oland?" said Ingrid.He nodded. "They called yesterday ... I'm going to be filling in as a craft teacher down in Borgholm starting in February. I can carry on working on the house in the evenings and on weekends. I want to make the outbuilding and the upper floor look nice so that people can stay there.""Are you going to have summer visitors staying?" said Ingrid."Maybe," said Joakim. "We need more people at Eel Point."Afterward they exchanged Christmas presents in Ingrid's little living room. Joakim handed her a large, long package."Happy Christmas, Mom," said Joakim. "Mirja Rambe wanted you to have this."The package was almost three feet long and was wrapped in brown paper. Ingrid opened it and looked inquiringly at him. It was one of the drainpipes Ragnar Davidsson had hidden in the lighthouse."Look inside," said Joakim.Ingrid turned one end of the pipe to face her. She peered inside, then reached in and pulled out a rolled-up canvas. She opened it out carefully and held it up in front of her. The oil painting was large and dark, and showed a foggy winter landscape."What's this?" said Ingrid."It's a blizzard painting," said Joakim. "By Torun Rambe.""But ... is it for me?"Joakim nodded. "There are lots more ... almost fifty of them," he said. "A fisherman stole the canvases and hid them inside one of the lighthouses at Eel Point. And that's where they've been for more than thirty years."Ingrid gazed at the big painting in silence."I wonder what it's worth?" she said finally."That doesn't matter," said Joakim.In the evening Livia and Gabriel went outside to make snow lanterns with their grandmother. Livia and Gabriel went outside to make snow lanterns with their grandmother.Joakim went upstairs. He went past the closed door of the room that had been Ethel's many years ago and into the room that had been his own bedroom when he was a teenager.All the posters and most of the furniture had gone, but there was a bed and a bedside table and an old tape player. The black plastic casing was cracked from falling on the floor during some party, but it still worked. It was possible to open the slot.Joakim inserted a ca.s.sette. It had arrived at Eel Point in the mail a couple of days earlier. It was from Gerlof Davidsson.He settled down on his old bed and pressed Play so that he could hear what Gerlof had to say.

45

At about three o'clock on New Year's Eve, Joakim took the subway to Bromma to wish his dead sister a happy New Year, and to try to talk to her murderer. on New Year's Eve, Joakim took the subway to Bromma to wish his dead sister a happy New Year, and to try to talk to her murderer.He stopped to buy a small bunch of roses in a flower store by the station. Then he set off along the street, following the route past the wooden houses above the water. They looked like forts, he thought. The sun had just gone down and the lights were glowing in many windows.After a few hundred yards he reached the street where the Apple House sat, and went up to the closed gate. He gazed at his former home. It looked empty but there was a light on in the hallway, possibly to deter burglars.Joakim bent down and propped the bunch of flowers against the electrical service box by the fence. He stood there for a few moments thinking of Ethel and Katrine, then turned away.The neighboring house further along the street had the lights on in most of the rooms. It was the Hesslins' huge house-the pride of the neighborhood.Joakim remembered Michael Hesslin had mentioned on the telephone that the family would be home for New Year's. He went up to the gate, along the garden path, and rang the doorbell.Lisa Hesslin opened the door. She looked pleased when she saw who it was."Come in, Joakim," she said. "And happy New Year!""Same to you."He walked in, onto the thick carpet in the hallway."Would you like some coffee? Or a gla.s.s of champagne, perhaps?""That won't be necessary," he said. "Is Michael home?""Not at the moment ... but he's only gone over to the gas station with the boys to buy some more fireworks." Lisa smiled. "They let off all the ones we had between Christmas and New Year's. I'm sure he'll be back soon, if you can wait.""Sure."Joakim moved into the main room, which had a view of the bare trees and the ice on the bay down below the house."Would you like to read something?" he asked Lisa."What?""This note."Joakim reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and took out a copy of the note he had found in Ethel's denim jacket in the hayloft.He handed it over to Lisa. She took it and read:"'Make sure the junkie-'"She stopped abruptly and looked inquiringly at Joakim."Carry on," he said. "Wasn't it you who wrote it and gave it to Katrine?"She shook her head."Then it must have been Michael.""I ... I can't imagine that."Lisa handed back the note. Joakim took it and stood up."Can I put your stereo on?" he said. "I've got something I'd like you to listen to.""Of course ... is it music?"Joakim went over and inserted the ca.s.sette. "No," he said, "it's just talking, actually."When the ca.s.sette started, he took a couple of steps backwards and sat down on the sofa directly opposite Lisa. There was a rattling noise from the speakers, then Gerlof Davidsson's tinny, slightly grumpy voice came through:"Right, let's see ... I've borrowed a tape recorder from Tilda, and I think it's running now. I've been thinking a great deal about the death of your wife, Joakim. If you don't want to be reminded of it, you should stop listening now ... but as I said, I couldn't stop thinking about it."Lisa looked dubiously at Joakim, but Gerlof's voice went on:"I think someone killed Katrine: a person who left no traces of themselves on the sandy sh.o.r.e, and therefore must have come from the sea. I can't tell you the name of Katrine's murderer, but I believe he's a powerfully built, middle-aged man. He lives or has a house in southern Gotland, and there he keeps a big boat with an inboard motor. The boat must have been big and fast to be able to cover a day trip between the islands, but at the same time light enough to be able to come into the jetty at Eel Point, where the water is no more than three feet deep. He must have-""Joakim, who's actually talking here?" said Lisa."Just listen," said Joakim."... and aiming for the twin lighthouses as you approach oland isn't particularly difficult," Gerlof went on. "But how did the murderer know your wife was going to be home alone that day? I think Katrine knew him. When she heard the sound of the engine approaching across the water, she went down to the sh.o.r.e. The murderer was standing in the prow holding the murder weapon in his hand when she came out onto the jetty. But your wife wasn't suspicious, because he was holding something almost everyone uses when they moor a boat."Gerlof coughed quietly and continued:"The murder weapon was a wooden boat hook ... long and heavy and with a big iron hook on one end. I've seen them used in fights at sea. It's easy to grab the opponent's clothing with the hook. Then you pull, and the victim loses balance and falls into the water. If you want to drown someone, then of course all you have to do is hold the hook beneath the surface of the water. There are no fingerprints, no major injuries. All that is visible afterward is the odd small tear in the clothing. There are holes like that in your wife's clothes."Gerlof stopped again, before finishing off his recording:"Well, that's what I think happened, Joakim. This won't make things any easier for you in your grief, I know that ... but we all feel better when questions have been answered. You're welcome to come over for coffee again sometime. Now I'm going to switch this off ..."The crackling voice on the tape fell silent, and all that could be heard from the speakers was a faint hissing sound.Joakim went over and took out the tape."That's it," he said.Lisa had risen to her feet. "Who was that?" she asked again. "Who was talking?""A friend. An old man," said Joakim, slipping the tape into his pocket. "n.o.body you know ...But is it true?"Lisa opened her mouth, but seemed unable to find any words. Finally she managed to say, "No. Surely you don't believe all that?""Was Michael at your cottage on Gotland when Katrine died?""How should I know? It was back in the fall ...I don't remember.""But when was he there?" said Joakim. "I mean, he must have gone down there sometime to take the boat out of the water. Mustn't he?"Lisa looked at him without replying."I was here in Stockholm the evening Katrine drowned," said Joakim, "and I remember I rang your doorbell. But n.o.body was home."He got no reply."Does Michael have a calendar we could look at?" asked Joakim. "Or a diary?"Lisa turned her back on him. "That's enough now, Joakim ...I need to make a start on dinner."She went over to the front door, opened it, and looked at him.Joakim said nothing. Before he left the house, he stopped next to the photographs on the wall and looked closely at one of them: a picture of Michael Hesslin on board his white motor cruiser. He was standing behind the shining gunwale in the prow, waving at the camera. There was no sign of any boat hook."Nice boat," said Joakim quietly.He left, and she quickly closed the door behind him. Joakim heard the lock click into place.He sighed and went out into the street, but stopped when he heard a faint noise carried on the air. It was the hum of a car engine.When it turned onto the street, Joakim saw that it was Michael's car.Michael drove up to the garage, switched off the engine, and got out with four long fireworks under his arm. His two boys jumped out of the back seat and ran off toward the house, each clutching their own bag of firecrackers."Joakim, you're back!" said Michael, coming out into the street. "Happy New Year!"He held out his hand, but Joakim didn't take it. Instead he asked:"What did you dream about that night at Eel Point, Michael? You woke up screaming. ... Did you see ghosts?""Sorry?""You killed my wife," said Joakim.Michael was still smiling, as if he hadn't heard properly."And the previous year you lured Ethel down to the water," Joakim went on. "You gave her a fix of heroin ... then you pushed her into the water."Michael stopped smiling and lowered his outstretched hand."She was spoiling the idyll," said Joakim. "And perhaps junkies might give the neighborhood a bad name ... but I'm sure murder suspects are even worse."Michael simply shook his head slightly, as if his former neighbor were beyond all help."So you're going to try and set me up for murder?""I can help," said Joakim.Michael looked at his house and started to smile again. "Forget it." He walked straight past Joakim as if he didn't exist."There's proof," said Joakim.Michael kept on walking toward the gate."Your business cards," said Joakim. "Where did you keep them?"Michael stopped. He didn't turn around, but stood there listening. Joakim moved closer and raised his voice."Thieving is always a problem with users. They're always looking for something they can pick up. So when my sister went down to the water with you, she took the opportunity to steal something from you ... something valuable out of your jacket pocket."Joakim took a Polaroid photograph out of his pocket. It was a picture of a small object inside a clear plastic bag. A flat case, gold colored, with the words hesslin financial services engraved on the front."Your case was hidden inside Ethel's jacket," he went on. "Is it made of gold? I'm sure my sister thought it was."Michael didn't reply. He took a final quick look at Joakim and the photograph before going through the gate."I've already given this to the police, Michael," said Joakim. "I'm sure they'll be in touch."He felt a bit like Ethel, standing there yelling out in the street, but it didn't matter any longer.He stood there and watched Michael disappear up the path.His rapid footsteps gave him away. Joakim could imagine what the new year would be like for Michael: constantly watching from the window, sweating as he waited for a police car to pull up on the street all of a sudden. Two police officers getting out, opening the gate, ringing the bell on the imposing front door.In the houses further down the street, the curtains would be discreetly pulled to one side by curious neighbors. What was going on?"Happy New Year, Michael!" Joakim shouted as Michael opened the front door and went inside.The door slammed shut.Joakim was alone on the street again. He breathed out and lowered his eyes.Then he set off back toward the subway, but stopped for one last time at the gate of the Apple House.The bunch of roses he had propped up against the electrical service box had fallen over in the wind; he propped it up again.He stood for a moment, thinking of his sister.I could have done more for her, he had said to Gerlof.Joakim sighed and took a final look along the street."Are you coming?" he asked.He waited for a few seconds, then set off again, back to his little family to celebrate New Year's Eve.Far away in the east the first fireworks could be seen over Stockholm. The rockets drew narrow white lines against the night sky, before they burst into a shower of light, then went out, like ghostly lighthouses.

COMMENTARY ON THE BOOK THE BOOK.

OF THE BLIZZARD.

BY KATRINE WESTIN.

I've read your book now, Mom. And since there are some blank pages left at the end, I'm going to write down some comments before I give it back to you.

You tell a lot of stories in this book. You claim my father was a young soldier, Markus Landkvist, who died when the ferry to the mainland capsized in a blizzard in the winter of 1962-but there has never been such a ferry disaster here. At least no one on the island that I have spoken to knows anything about it.

I'm used to it, of course. I mean, I've heard other stories about my father in the past-that he was a cla.s.smate of yours at art school, that he was the son of an American diplomat, that he was a Norwegian adventurer who ended up in jail for robbing a bank before I was born. You've always liked crazy stories.

And did you really poison an old fisherman when you lived here? Did you really hit your half-blind mother, Torun, and leave her to her fate one stormy winter's night?

It's possible-but you've always rearranged things and made things up. You've always been allergic to the reality of everyday life, to duties and responsibilities. Growing up with a parent like that isn't easy-whenever I talked to you I always had to try and work out what had actually happened.

One thing I promised myself: that my own children would grow up in a much calmer, more secure environment than I did.

Joakim's sister hated me because I took care of her daughter, but she couldn't do it herself. You ought to see what drugs really do to people, Mom, you with your romantic notions about that kind of thing she couldn't do it herself. You ought to see what drugs really do to people, Mom, you with your romantic notions about that kind of thing.

Ethel's hatred just grew and grew. But she could have stood outside our house yelling for ten years, I still wouldn't have let her take care of Livia again.

People living around us were sick and tired of Ethel and the trouble she caused.

I had a feeling something was going to happen, it was in the air. But I did nothing that evening when I saw a neighbor go up to Ethel by the gate. And I couldn't feel any sorrow when she was found dead in the water-but I know it's different for Joakim. He misses his sister. If someone hurt her, he wants to know who it was.

I don't have all the answers yet, but the man who took Ethel down to the water has promised to come over to the island today to give them to me. I'm going down to the point to meet him.

Your book can stay here on the bench for the time being, along with Ethel's jacket.

Just like you, I like sitting here in the darkness of the barn, Mom. It's peaceful in here.

So far I have kept this hidden room to myself. I'm going to show it to Joakim now that he's moved here. There's plenty of room for both of us.

This is a remarkable room, full of the memories of people who once lived at Eel Point. They are gone now. They pa.s.sed the responsibility for the house and the land to us and disappeared-all that is left are names, dates, and short poems on postcards.

That's what we will all be one day.

Memories and ghosts.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

There are many beautiful lighthouses along the coasts of oland, and there are also cult sites where animals and people were once sacrificed. But Eel Point and its surroundings are freely invented, as are all the characters in this novel.A book about oland that has been particularly important to me during the writing of the novel is Fk-olandsk ovadersbok (Blizzard-A Book of Bad Weather on oland) Fk-olandsk ovadersbok (Blizzard-A Book of Bad Weather on oland) by Kurt Lundgren. by Kurt Lundgren.Thank you to Anita Tingskull, who showed me her beautiful home in Persnas, and to Hkan Andersson, who showed me the fine royal estate in Borgholm. Thanks to Cherstin Juhlin, and to Kristina osterberg, who is the daughter of a lighthouse keeper. Thanks also to three "Stockholmers": Mark Earthy (who found my maternal grandfather Ellert's loading quay), Anette C. Andersson, and Anders Wennersten.Thanks to the Gerlofsson family on oland, above all my mother, Margot, and her cousins Gunilla, Hans, Olle, Bertil, La.s.se, and their families.Among those working on The Darkest Room The Darkest Room, I would especially like to thank Lotta Aquilonius, Susanne Widen, Jenny Thor, and Christian Manfred.Hugs to Helena and Klara; my father, Morgan; and my sister, Elisabeth, and her family.Johan Theorin

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

JOHAN T THEORIN was born in 1963 in Gothenburg, Sweden, and has spent every summer of his life on northern oland. He is a journalist and scriptwriter. was born in 1963 in Gothenburg, Sweden, and has spent every summer of his life on northern oland. He is a journalist and scriptwriter. The Darkest Room The Darkest Room is his second novel. is his second novel.