An Elderly Lady Must Not Be Crossed Read online

  Maud didn’t even bother looking at her. “Sold. Auctioned off.”

  This was perfectly true—except for the Anders Zorn painting that she loved so much. She’d moved it into her bedroom. She knew it was worth a lot of money, but she’d made so much from the sale of the silver collection and everything else in the gentleman’s room that she would be able to manage comfortably for several years.

  Irene Huss and Embla Nyström stood there for a long time, staring at the bare walls and floor, then suddenly Irene swung around and fixed her gaze on Maud.

  “Was it you who hit Frazzén with the poker? Did you fall out over the price? Did he threaten you?”

  Maud had been expecting the question. She adopted a horrified expression, which she reinforced by wringing her hands.

  “What are you . . . I never met him here! I don’t know when he got in . . . or what he did . . . I wouldn’t hurt a fly! I think killing animals is terrible! Not that I’m one of those vega . . . vegitar . . . not at all. But if we have to eat meat, then . . .” She broke off, confusion written all over her face.

  Irene Huss sighed wearily. “Thanks. I think we’re done here.”

  The three of them made their way back to the hallway in silence. Irene thanked Maud again with a somewhat strained smile, and wished her a merry Christmas. Embla simply glared at her again with those lovely blue eyes, which didn’t bother Maud in the slightest.

  That had been three days ago, and she still felt a little shaken. Hopefully the police would leave her in peace from now on, but one could never be completely certain. Fortunately they wouldn’t be able to get to her for the next few weeks.

  The flight from Gothenburg to Copenhagen took only an hour. The cabin crew had dished out a meal purporting to be “a Christmas breakfast.” Disgusting, in Maud’s opinion. The bread rolls and cheese were the only things that were close to edible. Maud asked for an extra roll and didn’t touch the rest of it.

  There was a half-hour wait at Kastrup before Maud boarded the plane to Dubai.

  The lunch served by Emirates Airline was in a different class. Maud treated herself to a small bottle of red wine; after the visit from the two police officers, she felt she deserved it.

  When she’d finished both the wine and her dessert—a silky, delicious panna cotta with raspberries and blueberries—she sat back to enjoy coffee and chocolate cake, which was also delicious. The Cognac helped. Starting her South African adventure with red wine and Cognac at lunchtime felt good. Really good.

  Full and contented, she reclined her seat. She’d traveled economy class from Sweden to Denmark, but had upgraded to business class for the long flight to Cape Town. It had cost a small fortune, of course, but it was worth it. The prospect of being able to stretch out was wonderful. She’d never treated herself to such luxury on long journeys in the past.

  The hum of voices around her made her relax. Her mind began to wander, and she could feel herself falling asleep. Suddenly she realized what the couple behind her were talking about. They were bickering over which of them had forgotten to pack a pair of running shoes.

  “Why didn’t you ask me? They’re in the boiler room!” the woman hissed.

  “It didn’t occur to me,” the man snapped back.

  It was the words “boiler room” that had caught Maud’s attention. She tuned out of the couple’s conversation, but those two words continued to echo in her mind.

  The boiler room. The cellar. The coal cellar.

  The boys in the coal cellar.

  Little

  Maud Sets a Trap

  A heart-rending scream bounced off the walls surrounding the rear courtyard. Maud looked up from her math book and stared for a fraction of a second at the small picture above her desk: it showed an angel with golden curls protectively following a little girl along a dark forest path.

  “Charlotte,” she whispered to the angel. She dropped her pen and ran to the window.

  It was as she feared. Her sister was pressed up against the shed beside the garbage cans with her hands over her eyes. She wasn’t wearing a coat, just a thin dress, and she was screaming with fear. In front of her stood the Aronsson brothers. Torsten, the younger of the two, was in the same grade as Maud, while Algot was in the next grade. Algot was holding a rat, dangling it in Charlotte’s face and laughing. Torsten had his back to Maud, so she couldn’t see if he was also making fun of her sister. He probably was, because Torsten always followed Algot’s lead. Tormenting poor Charlotte was one of their great pleasures.

  It had become increasingly clear to the neighbors that the young woman wasn’t entirely well. Maud knew they talked about her sister. Charlotte had suffered from “nerves,” as their mother put it, since she was about fourteen. Her problems were so serious that she’d had to leave school; the only thing she could still tolerate was her piano lessons, taught at home by a private tutor. The tutor was a famous pianist who charged a considerable amount for passing on her skills, but Maud and Charlotte’s parents thought it was worth it—anything to make their elder daughter feel better, if only for a little while. She spent most of her time practicing; Charlotte was extremely gifted, and had been on her way to a glowing future as a concert pianist. But then there was this business with her nerves . . . She couldn’t handle appearing before an audience. Even the three members of her own family weren’t allowed to sit and watch while she played. If they wanted to listen, they had to go into the library and leave the door ajar, keeping well out of sight.

  When Charlotte wasn’t at the piano, she became restless and began to “wander,” rambling aimlessly around the large apartment. This was kind of okay during the day, but it was difficult when she walked in her sleep at night. Maud’s parents had explained that Charlotte mustn’t be woken—it would be dangerous. Quite who it would be dangerous for wasn’t clear, but Maud hadn’t dared to ask. She would lie motionless in bed pretending to be fast asleep when Charlotte came into her room. Opening her eyes a fraction, she would watch her sister drifting by, mumbling to herself as she stared blankly into space. Sometimes she would stop and bend over Maud’s bed, at which point Maud would squeeze her eyes tightly shut and slow her breathing.

  Charlotte occasionally left the safety of the apartment. Only last week she’d suddenly disappeared. Maud, her mother, and their maid, Hilda, had searched every nook and cranny. Once they’d established that Charlotte wasn’t indoors, their mother had been beside herself. Hilda, however, was a down-to-earth young woman who’d been with the family for several years.

  “If you’d like to go up to the attic, madam, then Maud and I will look outside. If she’s not there, we’ll try the cellar,” she said firmly.

  Their mother fetched the key to the attic and took the elevator up to the top floor, while Maud set off with Hilda. They quickly established that Charlotte wasn’t outside. They checked the shed, where the janitor kept his tools, and behind the garbage cans. The lilacs that formed the boundary with the apartment building next door had lost all their leaves in a storm over the weekend of November 1, All Saints’ Day, so they didn’t provide anywhere to hide. The same applied to the tall elm tree in the middle of the courtyard; the lower branches had been sawn off to stop anyone from climbing it.

  “The cellar,” Hilda said.

  Maud was excited; she hadn’t been down there for almost two years.

  It’s no place for children, her father always said.

  But now she was going to have the chance to see what it looked like. Happily, she skipped along after Hilda.

  The steps leading down to the cellar were made of granite, not marble like the main staircase in the apartment block. The walls were whitewashed, but pretty dirty. Father had said this was because of the coke that was used to heat the building. It was delivered in sacks, transported by horse and cart. Men who were as dark as chimney sweeps because of the dust unloaded the sacks and tipped them down into the c
oal cellar through a metal hatch on the outside wall. Next to the cellar was a boiler room with a connecting door. The janitor, herr Stark, would go through this door a couple of times a day to fetch coke and shovel it into the boilers. The dirt on the wall was thanks to his clothes, which was why he had to change if he had to visit one of the residents for some reason.

  Stark lived with his wife in a small one-room apartment. It had only one window, overlooking the courtyard. Stark always smelled of booze. He was bad-tempered and glared at Maud when she politely bowed her head and said hello. She was a little bit afraid of him. Fru Stark was responsible for cleaning the foyer and stairs, plus the laundry room and the large drying room where the tenants could hang their washing. She usually nodded to Maud, but didn’t smile or say a word.

  Maud followed Hilda down the granite steps. Hilda unlocked the cellar door, and the smell of dust and dampness immediately hit them. The bare bulbs on the ceiling spread a faint glow. Maud assumed there were lots of interesting things in the storage units, but she couldn’t take a peek because each unit had a wooden door secured with a padlock. Which meant that Charlotte couldn’t be in there.

  “The boiler room,” Hilda said, pointing to a particularly sturdy door. She produced another key from her pocket and opened it up. Three enormous boilers were roaring away, heating up the water in the accumulator tank that provided every apartment with hot water and central heat. Maud’s father often said that the boiler room was the heart of the building. They looked around, but there was no sign of Charlotte.

  Hilda pointed to a smaller metal door. “The coal cellar!” she shouted above the din of the boilers.

  This door didn’t have a lock, but was opened and closed with a metal bar. It looked heavy, but Hilda lifted it easily. They peered inside.

  People talk about how dark coal mines are, but a coal cellar is pretty dark too, Maud thought just before Hilda switched on the light—a single bulb on the ceiling. There were piles of coke in sacks and a heap of loose coke in the middle of the floor with a shovel stuck in it, next to a wheelbarrow.

  Not surprisingly, Charlotte wasn’t there. She would never have dared to enter the noisy boiler room.

  After their unsuccessful mission, and with soot marks on their clothes, Hilda and Maud returned to the apartment. With tears in her eyes, Maud’s mother informed them that she’d found Charlotte curled up in a corner of the drying room in the attic. She’d almost missed her because of the sheets hanging up, but now Charlotte was safely tucked up in bed. Mother was on her way to the kitchen to make her a hot chocolate—perhaps Maud would like one too?

  Maud had managed to steal half a packet of her mother’s English biscuits, which she’d hidden in the bottom drawer of her desk, and she carefully eked them out over time. She would allow herself one while doing her homework. She’d just eaten the very last one when she heard her sister’s despairing cry from the courtyard. Typical Charlotte, going outside when neither her mother nor Hilda was home—Maud had no idea when they’d be back. Twilight was falling; it would soon be dark. How was she going to rescue Charlotte from those two idiots? The Aronsson brothers were big and strong, and Maud was small and skinny. Getting into a fight wouldn’t work. They were always causing trouble! Presumably they’d been bored and wanted some excitement . . .

  Maud inhaled sharply as an idea began to take shape. Maybe there was a way to fix this.

  She hurried along to her father’s study. The girls weren’t allowed in without his permission, but Maud told herself that this was an emergency. She knew exactly where he kept the envelopes. She pulled out the bottom drawer in the highly polished mahogany desk, then hesitated briefly. Brown or white? She chose brown; those were the ones Father used when he paid his employees at the office.

  She ran into the hallway and opened the key cupboard, quickly scanning the tags. There! cellar, boiler room. They were right at the top, but she managed to reach them by standing on tiptoe. She kicked off her indoor shoes and shoved her feet into her boots. She didn’t have time to lace them up. She sped down the cellar steps and unlocked the door. She switched on the light and hurried along the corridor.

  Opening the boiler room door was easy, but the coal cellar was more of a challenge. The metal bar was heavy, and she had to make a real effort to lift it. The door opened a fraction, its hinges squeaking and complaining. Maud was about to squeeze through, but stopped herself. There would be black dust all over her shoes and clothes if she went in. She glanced around the boiler room and found the solution. The wheelbarrow and shovel were next to one of the boilers. She placed the envelope on the shovel, carried it to the coal cellar door, and tossed the envelope in through the gap. It drifted down and settled on the coke.

  Maud left the door ajar. When she slipped out of the boiler room, she closed the door but didn’t lock it.

  Charlotte had slid to the ground with her back resting against the shed. Her body was shaking, thanks to the cold, fear, and the great hulking sobs she couldn’t suppress. Maud looked at her through the glass in the front door and felt a surge of hatred toward the two brothers. Her sister might be different and kind of strange, but nobody should be tormented by two little jerks who didn’t know how to behave.

  Maud took a deep breath before opening the door. It was cold outside, and she was wearing a cardigan rather than a coat. The Aronsson brothers turned their heads when they heard her determined footsteps.

  “Look who’s here! Crazy Charlotte’s equally crazy kid sister!” Algot said.

  Maud stopped and forced herself not to look at the wriggling rat, which he was still holding by the tail.

  “Why don’t you help me look for Father’s envelope instead of messing around with Charlotte?” she said, keeping her voice steady.

  The brothers exchanged a glance.

  “Why would we do that?” Algot sneered.

  This was the critical moment. Time to deploy her acting skills, make sure they swallowed the bait.

  She fixed her eyes on the ground. “Father’s… dropped an important envelope. Today. He went through the whole building with a man from the insurance company.”

  That wasn’t entirely untrue. Except that the visit had taken place two months earlier.

  “Why?”

  “He’s sorting out a new insurance policy. The company has to check everything . . . fire risks, that kind of thing,” Maud said, being deliberately vague.

  “So they went through the whole building.”

  “Yes, from the attic down to the cellar. And somewhere along the way, Father dropped his wage . . . I mean . . . an envelope.”

  With a flick of his wrist, Algot tossed the rat among the trash cans. It scuttled away, chattering angrily to itself. Maud glanced at her sister; she was shaking even more now. It was vital to get her inside, where she would be warm and safe.

  “So why isn’t your fat, useless dad out looking?” Torsten wanted to know.

  Maud had her answer ready. “He didn’t realize it had fallen out of his pocket until he was about to leave for work, and he had to go to a meeting with . . .”A meeting with . . . ? It had to be someone really important. Maud improvised.

  “Mayor Bäärnhilm.”

  “The mayor? You’re lying,” Algot said.

  “No, Father’s involved in a big construction project. They’re building a whole new part of town.”

  “Where?”

  Maud remembered a discussion she’d overheard a few weeks ago. Father had been in the gentleman’s room with friends, drinking grog and smoking cigars. She’d taken up her usual position behind the door, peeping in through the gap. The men couldn’t see her, but Maud was able to see and hear everything that went on. They’d discussed plans for a new residential area that would be completed within five to ten years. It was to be in Johanneberg, up above Terrassgatan and Viktor Rydbergsgatan.

  “Johanneberg.”

&n
bsp; “Up in the hills! Too far from the city center. Nobody’s going to want to live there!”

  Algot laughed and poked Torsten in the side. His little brother obediently joined in the laughter.

  “They’re talking about several hundred apartments. The mayor is interested, because Gothenburg needs modern accommodation,” Maud informed them calmly.

  Algot’s eyes narrowed. Then came the question she’d been waiting for.

  “What did you say was in that envelope?”

  Maud looked confused. “I don’t . . . I’m not sure.”

  “You mentioned wages. Is there money in it?”

  “Yes! No! I . . . I don’t know.”

  Algot poked his brother again. Without taking his eyes off Maud, he said breezily, “You can stop searching now. Torsten and I will take over.”

  Time to play the innocent little girl. Maud clapped her hands with relief. “Oh, thank you! Mother and Hilda will be home soon. I’d better take care of Charlotte.”

  “You do that—but not a word to your parents about the rat,” Algot warned her.

  Maud nodded.

  “We need to fetch the keys to the attic and the cellar,” Algot whispered to Torsten.

  Maud pretended she hadn’t heard. As the brothers set off, she called after them, “Father thought he’d dropped it up in the attic.”

  Hopefully the boys would start up there, which would give Maud time to complete her preparations.

  Hilda had just arrived home when Maud and Charlotte staggered into the apartment. Maud was supporting her sister with some difficulty.

  “Goodness me, whatever’s happened?” Hilda exclaimed, dropping the bag of groceries she was carrying.

  Maud handed over her burden and the responsibility to Hilda with an enormous sense of relief.

  “She went outside. The Aronsson brothers scared her with a rat. And I . . .”

  Maud didn’t need to say any more; Hilda was already guiding Charlotte to her room, where she would be tucked up in bed and given a hot chocolate. And one of her pills, no doubt. In a little while, she would be fast asleep. Charlotte was safe.