Page 89 of Hidden in Memories
How often has he sat here in the semidarkness and lost himself in the melancholy of jazz?
He missed a session with the band on Tuesday because of work. They usually meet up regularly to play together. It is often the highlight of the week, but this time the investigation had to come first; it couldn’t be helped.
He picks up the alto sax and slips the strap around his neck, then lets his fingers glide over the shining brass keys. This is his place, the only place he can release all the longing hidden in his heart.
As the melody of “If I Should Lose You” fills the room, he sees Carl’s beautiful face before him.
The dream of a different life filters through those muted notes. They paint a picture of what he is longing for, a relationship that seems unattainable.
It’s not for him, although he would love to be with someone.
He is so tired of being alone.
68
When Bengt Hedin wakes up, it is dark outside the window. He stretched out on the sofa after spending hours online; he must have fallen asleep. The sound of a text message woke him. From his wife, wondering where he is.
Why doesn’t he answer when she calls?
Bengt can barely bring himself to read what she has written.Stupid bitch.He is in the middle of the worst crisis of his life, and she wants everything to be as normal.
He puts his phone in his pocket. Why can’t she stop nagging? He can’t cope with going home. She’ll only start asking what’s going on, insisting he tell her what’s wrong, beg him to talk things through.
She’s even suggested he should see a therapist. Ridiculous.
He’d rather sleep at the office, or head for the hunting lodge in Ullådalen. He’ll be left in peace there. It’s the only place where he can think clearly.
Maybe that’s where he should go over Easter in order to formulate a plan?
With a grunt he sits up. The back of his neck cracks; he is sore and stiff, but he is no longer sleepy. He goes over to the desk and opens up the computer.
He brings up the home pages of the evening papers and is immediately confronted with photographs of both Charlotte and that stupid cleaner who got in the way. The more he reads, the angrier he gets. A sob story about Charlotte’s son is the final straw. The guy is standing outside Åregården with tears in his eyes, as if he’s begging for people’s sympathy.
As if he’s the one they should feel sorry for.
Bengt wants to tell him to grow up. If there’s any justice, he ought to pay for what his fucking mother has done.
He shuts down the page, considers his next move. He’s done with the porn sites for today. Instead he opts for Facebook and the Preserve Storlien group. There haven’t been many posts over the past few days. He’s had neither the time nor the energy to write anything, but suddenly the desire is back.
His fingers fly across the keyboard. He gives vent to his rage and uses cruder and more inflammatory language than ever before.
He empties out his hatred, like a mental bloodletting process.
It is almost intoxicating. And with every vile word, he feels better.
Friday, April 2 Good Friday
69
When Hanna logs in on her work computer at seven o’clock on Good Friday morning, she has decided to go through the list of hotel employees who passed through the staff entrance on Sunday. Meticulous care is the name of the game.
Today she is the first to arrive. It’s nice to have the place to herself after the intense tempo of the last few days. Tomorrow she is going to Lydia’s for Easter lunch—if the case allows, of course.
A tickling sensation in her nose makes her sneeze loudly. Her sweater is covered in cat hairs. Morris, of course. He has continued to sleep in her bed, and she has already gotten used to the comforting feeling of cuddling up with him after a challenging day at work.
No one has come forward yet to say that he belongs to them.
She studies the list. Paul Lehto is there, as is the manager, Espen Lund, and the second victim, Aada Kuus.
