Unseen by Mari Jungstedt Read Free Book Online Page B

arrest individuals on quite flimsy grounds.
    His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Peter.
    “Hey, could you move over?” he shouted, hidden behind the camera, concentrating on his shot and with his eye at the viewfinder. He had attached the big TV camera to a tripod, and Johan was standing in the way of the shot he was considering, panning across the beach.
    It was eleven o’clock. The editor of the noon news was prepared to make do with the morning’s material, so they didn’t need to worry about that.
    “I think we should drop by and see the sister of the old man who found the body,” said Johan as they got into the car. “Her name is Svea Johansson, and she lives nearby. We can try to get an interview with her.”
    “Sure,” replied Peter, who was usually quite cooperative.
    Svea Johansson opened the door after they knocked four times. The fragrance of newly baked cinnamon rolls greeted them.
    “Yes? And who might you be?” she asked bluntly with a lilting Gotland accent, peering up at them.
    They had never seen such a tiny old lady before. Her hair was white and pulled back into a bun. Her face had a rosy hue and delicate little wrinkles, and there was flour on the tip of her nose. She was wearing a striped cotton apron. She can’t be more than four foot seven , thought Johan, fascinated. He introduced himself and Peter.
    “Ah, well, come in then,” said Svea, letting them into the cramped, dark hallway. “I’m in the middle of baking rolls, so you’ll have to come sit in the kitchen.”
    They sat down on the kitchen bench, and in an instant two coffee cups were set on the table before them.
    “You’ll have a little coffee, won’t you?” murmured the old woman without waiting for them to reply. “You’re in luck, because the first batch of rolls will be done soon.”
    “That would be great,” they said in unison.
    Johan looked out at the yard and realized that this was going to take some time.
    “We were wondering if you could tell us about your brother finding the dead woman,” said Johan.
    “Of course I can,” she replied as she took a pan of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. “It made him very upset, the poor thing. He’s still in the hospital. They wanted to keep him another day. I talked to him this morning, and he was sounding quite cheerful.”
    “How did he happen to find her?”
    “Well, we were supposed to go out for a walk. That’s what we usually do every day, but yesterday I didn’t want to go along. No, I didn’t. Because I had a sore throat and a terrible cough. Today I’m feeling much better,” she explained, pinching the skin of her wrinkled neck.
    “Well, anyway, he came over around eleven, as usual. We had a little lunch together, the way we always do. Then he went out alone. I stayed here and did some needlework. It didn’t take long before he was back, pounding on the door even though it was open. He was very upset and babbling something about a dead woman and a dead dog and that he had to call the police.”
    Johan gave a start. “A dead dog? Can you tell us more about that?”
    “Yes, apparently there was a dog that was killed. The head had been cut off, and it was quite horrible,” she lamented, shaking her head.
    Johan and Peter exchanged glances. This was something new.
    “Did the dog belong to the woman?” asked Johan.
    “Yes, apparently she went everywhere with that dog. That’s what the police said when they were here.”
    Half an hour later Johan and Peter left the farm. By then they had Svea Johansson’s account on videotape.
    Emma Winarve was hot and sweaty. She had a disgusting taste in her mouth and a knot of fear in her stomach. The nightmare still had a grip on her. She and Helena were walking on the beach together, as they had done so many times before. Helena walked on a short distance ahead. Emma called to her to wait but received no reply. Then she picked up her pace and called Helena again. Her friend still did not turn around. Emma