The Return of the Dancing Master(116)

Larsson put his cup down.

“She called this morning and said that she had calmed down now and been thinking. She thought she had something else she could tell us. I’m on my way there now. I thought you might like to come with me.”

“By all means.”

Larsson opened the plastic bag and produced a photograph behind glass in a frame. It was of a woman in her sixties.

“Do you know who this is?”

“No.”

“Katrin Andersson. Andersson’s wife.”

“Why did you bring that with you?”

“Because Hanna Tunberg asked me to. She wanted to see what Abraham’s wife looked like. I don’t know why. But I sent one of the boys out to Dunkarret this morning to get the photograph.”

Larsson finished his coffee and stood up.

“Hanna lives in Ytterberg,” he said. “It’s not far.”




The house was old and well cared-for. It was beautifully situated with views of the wooded hills. A dog started barking when they parked. A woman was standing next to a rusty old tractor, waiting for them.

“Hanna Tunberg,” Larsson said. “She was wearing the same clothes the last time I saw her. She’s one of the old school.”

“Who are they?”

“People who put on their best clothes when they have an appointment with the police. Want to bet she’s been doing some baking?”

He smiled and got out of the car.

Larsson introduced Hanna Tunberg to Lindman. He found it hard to say how old she was. Sixty, perhaps, or maybe only just over fifty.

“I’ve made some coffee. My husband’s gone out.”

“Not because we were coming, I hope,” Larsson said.

“He’s a bit strange. He’s not overfond of the police. Even though he’s an honest man.”

“I’m sure he is,” Larsson said. “Shall we go in?”

The house smelled of tobacco, dog, and lingonberries. The living room walls were decorated with elk antlers, tapestries, and some paintings with woodland motifs. Hanna Tunberg moved some knitting out of the way, lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, and started coughing. There was a rattling noise in her lungs. Lindman noticed that the tips of her fingers were yellow. She had brought the coffee and filled the cups. There was a plate of buns on the table.

“Now we can talk at our leisure,” Larsson said. “You said you’d been thinking. And that there was something you wanted to tell me.”

“I don’t know if it’s important or not, of course.”

“Nobody ever knows that beforehand. But we’re all ears.”

“It’s about that woman who used to visit Mr. Molin.”

“You mean Mrs. Berggren?”

“She was sometimes there when I went to clean. She always left as soon as she saw me. I thought she was strange.”

“How exactly?”

“Impolite. I have no time for people who give themselves airs. Mr. Molin was the same.”

“Was there something particular she did to make you think she was impolite?”

“It was just a feeling I had. That she was looking down on me.”

“Because you were a cleaning woman?”

“Yes.”

Larsson smiled. “Very nice buns,” he said. “We’re listening.”

Hanna Tunberg was still smoking and didn’t seem to notice that she was spilling ash on her skirt.

“It was last spring,” she said. “Towards the end of April. I went to the house to do the cleaning, but he wasn’t there. I thought it was strange, because we’d agreed on the time.”

Larsson raised his hand to interrupt her.

“Did you always do that? Did you always schedule a time in advance when you were going to arrive?”

“Always. He wanted to know. Anyway, he wasn’t there. I didn’t know what to do. I was quite certain that I hadn’t gotten the wrong day or the wrong time, though. I always wrote it down.”

“What happened next, then?”

“I waited. But he didn’t come. I stood on a sled so that I could see in through the window. I thought he might be sick, you see. The house was empty. Then I thought about Abraham Andersson. I knew they were in touch with each other.”

Larsson raised his hand again.

“How did you know that?”

“Mr. Molin told me once. ‘I don’t know anybody around here apart from Elsa,’ he said. ‘And Abraham.’ ”

“What happened?”

“I thought maybe I’d drive to Abraham’s place. I knew where he lived. My husband fixed a bow for him once. He’s a jack-of-all-trades, my husband. Anyway, I went there and knocked on the door. There was a long pause before Abraham answered.”