The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

excited.
    ‘Bloody hell, it’s a long building,’ she exclaimed.
    ‘There you go again, swearing,’ said Kihlgård drily.
    To reach the side facing the sea, they had to go through the gate next to the house. Jacobsson couldn’t help peeking in through the windows. First a long hallway. To the right a modest kitchen with pine cupboards and a table next to the window. A few simple chairs.
    ‘You’d think he would have indulged himself with something a bit more luxurious,’ said Jacobsson in surprise.
    ‘He was probably content to enjoy the luxury of being alone and left in peace. It’s a big house, after all. And look at the view,’ said Kihlgård with a sigh. ‘It’s not something that just anyone could afford.’
    They went over to the veranda, which faced the sea. There they stood in silence for a moment, looking out at the horizon and the entire rocky shoreline.
    Jacobsson peered into the library. The walls were covered with books, and in the middle stood bookcases holding rows of files and folders. It almost looked like a public library, with a ladder and everything. At the far end stood a beautifully designed office chair in black leather next to a desk.
    ‘So that’s where he sat, gazing out at the sea and writing. How bloody marvellous!’
    ‘Watch your language, Karin,’ admonished Kihlgård. ‘Now, if you’re done peeping in the windows, maybe we should get to work.’ He turned to the dog-handlers who were standing nearby. The dogs were panting and yapping and tugging at their leads, eager to start the search. When the two Labs were let loose, they immediately began sniffing at every centimetre of the property.
    Suddenly both dogs set off for the sea and the fence that separated Bergman’s land from Valter Olsson’s. They jumped at the enclosure, barking like crazy. Officers came running from all directions. The dogs soon found a big hole in the fence, and they easily slipped through.
    ‘There’s something on the neighbouring property,’ said one of the dog-handlers. ‘Without a doubt. Over there on the other side.’
    ‘OK,’ said Jacobsson resolutely.
    The police followed. At the water’s edge they found the upside-down rowing boat that Jacobsson had noticed on their earlier visit to Olsson’s cabin. The dogs dashed straight for the boat and continued to bark.
    The two dog-handlers lifted up the boat and moved it away.
    The dogs sat down nearby as the two officers began to dig. It didn’t take long before their shovels struck something, and slowly a decaying body came to light. Bloated and greenish-grey in colour, the skin had come loose in several places, and maggots were crawling all over the corpse. Theeyes were sunken and cloudy. The hair a shiny black. Jacobsson turned away and threw up in the water.
    Kihlgård gloomily studied the dead woman, who was wearing only a skirt and bra. In spite of the sorry state of the body, there was no question about the victim’s identity.
    ‘So at last we’ve found Stina Ek,’ he murmured.

THAT AFTERNOON, THE entire area surrounding Ingmar Bergman’s domain was cordoned off, and it didn’t take long before journalists began turning up on Fårö. Rumours spread quickly, and reporters from all over Sweden flew to Gotland. Later that evening the foreign press also began to appear, mostly from Germany, where interest in Bergman was especially strong, since he had lived in Munich for almost ten years.
    Word got out that a murdered woman had been found on property belonging to Bergman. When the foreign reporters realized that the victim had actually been discovered on a neighbour’s land, their interest waned.
    But the Swedish media was difficult enough to handle, and police spokesman Lars Norrby asked for help after only a few hours.
    ‘This is fucking sick,’ snapped Jacobsson to Wittberg as she hurried along the corridor of the Criminal Division, on her way to the late-night meeting of the investigative team. ‘We can’t even do our job because of all the media hysteria. Those journalists are nothing but a bunch of lunatics. We’re going to have to call in the armoured troops on Fårö to keep the reporters away.’
    They’d already heard that the police officers on the scene were having a hard time keeping out curiosity-seekers. Wittberg merely shook his head as they entered the conference room. At that moment Knutas phoned Jacobsson, but she didn’t take the call. She’d ring him later, after the meeting was over.
    ‘All