Rites of Spring, Anders Motte [reading diary .TXT] 📗

the budget! If we want a top-class restaurant, then it’s going to cost. We’re aiming for a Michelin star within three years.’

‘That’s what you’re aiming for, David. Sebastian and I were perfectly happy with the original plan, which had a realistic chance of turning a profit. This . . .’ She points to something on the table, presumably a document or drawing. ‘This is a daydream. A fucking utopia that we’re not prepared to pay for.’

‘Take it easy, Nettan . . .’ Sebastian ventures.

‘I’m trying to do something good for the area. Give back.’ David waves his arms, just as he always does when he’s on the defensive.

‘Bullshit! You’re only thinking of yourself.’ Nettan is slurring her words.

‘That’s rich, coming from you! You took off for Switzerland with a week’s notice, for fuck’s sake! We hardly had time to say goodbye!’

‘We were seventeen. We weren’t even together anymore.’

‘Calm down, both of you!’ Sebastian gets to his feet. ‘Can we please stick to the matter in hand? We’re worried about the budget, David. Costs are spiralling, and you’re still making changes without consulting us. You seem to assume that we’ll be happy to pay for them.’

‘You mean you can’t afford it?’ David gives a mirthless laugh. ‘How many millions is your company worth? A hundred?’

‘That’s irrelevant. We agreed to finance the restaurant for old times’ sake, because we were friends, but we can’t carry on pouring money into something that isn’t going to make a profit. This isn’t a charity project.’

‘Charity!’ David hisses. ‘Thirtieth of April 1986 – do you remember that date? What we went through together on that terrible night?’

‘Shut the fuck up!’ Nettan leaps up from her chair. ‘You promised you’d never bring that up again! You promised . . .’ Her voice gives way.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean . . .’ Now David is on his feet too, suddenly looking regretful. The three friends stand there staring at one another.

‘I should never have agreed to any of this,’ Nettan says quietly. ‘Maybe I thought that the castle and the restaurant would somehow put things right, help us.’ She spreads her arms wide. ‘But we’re fucked, aren’t we? Elita’s ghost will always haunt us.’

She turns on her heel and weaves her way towards the door.

‘Wait, Nettan!’ David follows her. Sebastian remains at the table. He picks up his wine glass and unexpectedly glances over at the window.

Thea steps back, but it’s too late. Sebastian has already seen her. He stiffens, stares at her for a moment, then raises his glass in a toast. He empties it and follows the others out of the dining room.

Thea leads Emee down the terrace steps. The new moon hangs above the forest, its reflection just visible in the moat. There are no lights on in Hubert’s apartment, but she sees a movement behind the curtains at one of the library windows.

She stops. The window is ajar, offering an excellent view of the terrace and dining room. Has Hubert seen her eavesdropping? Probably, but for some reason she thinks he was there because he was every bit as interested in the conversation in the dining room as she was.

56

‘Fuck, Margaux. How did I end up in the middle of this mess? That’s a good question, isn’t it? If you like it, I have plenty more.’

Thea wakes just before sunrise again. Emee is snoring on the floor next to her bed.

Thea has been dreaming, but she can’t quite remember the details. Something about her father, and horrible little Green Man figures.

She doesn’t switch on the light; she lies in the darkness trying to gather her thoughts. Is she really considering helping her father with his petition? Does she have a choice? And does she seriously think he’ll help her get closer to the truth about Elita Svart’s death?

This all began with her wanting to find out what David had gone through, hoping she could support him. It’s clear that both he and his friends are haunted by the experience. However, that explanation no longer holds water. She has become obsessed by the spring sacrifice, by what happened on Walpurgis Night 1986.

Bill’s hoof prints place Leo in the stone circle, as do his cap badge and the testimony of the children, mainly David. Leo confessed to having killed Elita, said she’d asked him to do it. So why isn’t Thea convinced of his guilt?

Two reasons, apart from what she read in False Confessions.

First of all, there’s the missing page from the autopsy report. Someone did their utmost to conceal Elita’s pregnancy, but who and why? Who was the father of Elita’s child, and how is the pregnancy linked to her death?

Secondly, Thea doesn’t believe Lasse Svart’s story. Why should he, after a life lived on the fringes of society, suddenly decide it’s his duty to speak to the police, make sure justice is done? The question seems even more apposite after yesterday’s encounter with her father. Leif would never have gone to the police, she’s sure of it. Lasse must have felt the same at the start – so what made him change his mind?

The discovery of the cap badge is also kind of strange. Why didn’t it turn up when the crime scene was first searched? According to the interviewer, it was found by a witness.

She switches on the light, takes out the folder and turns to the section marked Evidence. It takes her a few minutes to locate the right form.

The witness who found the badge was Erik Nyberg. He says he’d gone to the stone circle to clear up after the police, and that was when one of his dogs came across it.

She checks the date; Nyberg signed the form the day before Lasse Svart walked into the police station and changed his statement. So on a single day, Leo’s defence suffers two serious setbacks – setbacks which, possibly combined with Eva-Britt’s disappearance, finally make him confess.

Thea realises she hasn’t given much thought to where the Svart family actually went. She picks up her phone and googles first Lasse,