‘And what was she looking for?’ said Patrik. The priest’s whole demeanour bore witness to the fact that he was a man of great empathy, a man who radiated calm and peace. A true man of God.
Father Silvio sat quietly for a while before he replied. He seemed to want to weigh his words, but at last he looked Patrik straight in the eye and said: ‘Forgiveness.’
‘Forgiveness?’ asked Martin.
‘Forgiveness,’ Father Silvio repeated calmly. ‘It’s what we all seek, most of us without even knowing it. Forgiveness for our sins, for our failures, for our shortcomings and mistakes. Forgiveness for things we have done … and for things we didn’t do.’
‘And what was Elsa Forsell seeking forgiveness for?’ Patrik said quietly, looking hard at the priest. For a moment it seemed that Father Silvio was on the verge of telling them something. Then he lowered his eyes and said, ‘Confession is a sacrament. And what does it matter? We all have something to be forgiven for.’
Patrik sensed that there was something more behind his words, but he knew enough about a father confessor’s vow of silence not to try and press the priest.
‘How long was Elsa a member of your church?’ he said instead.
‘For eighteen years,’ said Father Silvio. ‘As I said, we became very close friends over the years.’
‘Do you know whether Elsa had any enemies? Did anyone want to harm her?’
Again the priest hesitated, then shook his head. ‘No, I know nothing about anything like that. Elsa had no one besides us, either friend or foe. We were her family.’
‘Is that usual?’ asked Martin, who couldn’t hide a sceptical tone.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ the silver-haired man said calmly. ‘But we have no such exclusionary rules, or restrictions, for our members. Most of them have both families and friends, like any other Christian congregation. But Elsa had only us.’
‘Regarding how she died,’ said Patrik. ‘Someone poured a large quantity of alcohol down her throat. What was Elsa’s attitude towards alcohol?’
Once more Patrik thought he sensed a hesitation, a reluctance to speak, but instead the priest said with a laugh, ‘Elsa was probably like most people on that point. She would have a glass of wine or two on Saturday evening sometimes. But never in excess. No, I would say that she had a quite normal attitude towards alcohol. I taught her to appreciate Italian wines, by the way, and we occasionally had wine tastings here. Very popular.’
Patrik raised an eyebrow. The Catholic priest was truly surprising him.
After pausing to consider whether he had anything more to ask, Patrik placed his business card on the table before them. ‘If you think of anything else, please give us a ring.’
‘Tanumshede,’ said Father Silvio as he read the card. ‘Where is that?’
‘On the west coast,’ said Patrik as he got up. ‘Between Strömstad and Uddevalla.’
Patrik watched in amazement as all colour drained out of Father Silvio’s face. For a moment he looked as pale as Martin had been during the ride to Lund the day before. Then the priest regained his composure and nodded curtly. Bewildered, Patrik and Martin said goodbye, both with a feeling that Father Silvio Mancini knew considerably more than he was saying.
There was an air of anticipation at the station. Everyone was eager to hear what Patrik and Martin had found out during their weekend excursion. Patrik had driven straight to the station when they returned from Nyköping and had spent a couple of hours preparing for the meeting. The walls of his office were covered with photos and notes, and he had jotted down remarks and drawn arrows here and there. It looked chaotic, but he would soon bring order to the confusion.
It was a tight squeeze when they all crowded into his office, but he hadn’t wanted to put up the investigative material anywhere else, so that’s where they had to meet. Martin arrived first and sat down at the back, then Annika, Gösta, Hanna and Mellberg arrived. No one said a word as they all surveyed the material taped to the walls. Each of them was trying to find the red thread that would lead them to a killer.
‘As you know, Martin and I visited two cities this weekend, Lund and Nyköping. Both of these police stations had contacted us because they had cases that matched the criteria we had set up based on the murders of Marit Kaspersen and Rasmus Olsson. The victim in Lund,’ he turned and pointed to a photo on the wall, ‘was named Börje Knudsen. He was fifty-two years old and a confirmed alcoholic. He was found dead in his flat. He had been dead so long that unfortunately it was impossible to find any physical traces of the type of injuries we’ve documented for the other victims. On the other hand’ – Patrik paused to take a drink of water from a glass on his desk – ‘he did have this in his hand.’ He pointed to the plastic bag pinned to the wall next to the photo, with the page from the children’s book.
Mellberg raised his hand. ‘Did we hear from NCL whether there were any fingerprints on the pages we found next to Marit and Rasmus?’
Patrik was surprised that his boss was on the ball for once. ‘Yes, we did get an answer, and the pages were returned.’ He pointed to the pages pinned up next to the photos of Marit and Rasmus. ‘Unfortunately there were no prints on them. The page found with Börje was never examined, so it will be going off to NCL today. However, the book page found with the victim in Nyköping, Elsa Forsell, was examined during the investigation. With a negative result.’
Mellberg nodded to indicate that he was satisfied with the answer.
Patrik went on, ‘Börje’s case was classified as an accident; they believed he had simply drunk himself to death. Elsa Forsell’s death, however, was investigated as a homicide by our colleagues in Nyköping, but they never found a perpetrator.’
‘Did they have any suspects?’ asked Hanna. She looked resolute and focused, but a bit pale. Patrik was worried that she might be getting sick. He couldn’t afford to lose any resources in this situation.
‘No, there were no suspects. She only associated with the members of her church, and no one seemed to bear any grudge against her. She was also killed in her own flat’ – he pointed to the photo taken at the crime scene – ‘and stuck inside a Bible next to her they found this.’ He moved his finger to point at the page from Hansel and Gretel.
‘What kind of sick devil is this person?’ said Gösta incredulously. ‘What does this fairy tale have to do with anything?’
‘I have no idea, but something tells me it’s the key to the whole investigation.’
‘We have to hope that the media doesn’t get wind of this,’ Gösta muttered. ‘Then it’ll turn into the “Hansel and Gretel killer”, considering how much they like to give murderers nicknames.’
‘Well, I hardly need to stress the importance of not leaking any of this to the press,’ said Patrik, carefully avoiding looking at Mellberg. Although he was the chief, he was something of a loose cannon. But even Mellberg seemed to have had his fill of press attention in recent weeks, because he nodded in agreement.
‘Did you get any feeling for what the tangential points between the murders might be?’ said Hanna.
Patrik looked at Martin, who said, ‘No, unfortunately we’re back at square one. Börje was definitely no teetotaller, and Elsa seemed to have had a normal attitude towards alcohol, neither abstinence nor overconsumption.’
‘So we have no idea as to how the murders are related?’ Hanna said, looking concerned.
Patrik sighed and turned