Rites of Spring by Anders Motte (hardest books to read txt) 📕

are for a while until you feel better. Would you like a drink?’

‘Yes, please.’

She pours him a plastic cup of water.

‘Thanks.’ His eyes are brown and friendly. ‘My name is Philippe Benoit, by the way.’ He holds out his uninjured hand.

‘Thea Lind. Are you French?’

‘Almost,’ he replies with a smile. ‘Québécois. Do you speak French?’

‘Of course.’ Thea switches languages and realises that she too is smiling. It’s a long time since she spoke French to anyone except Margaux. ‘What happened to your hand?’

‘A stupid accident. I was cutting a piece of rope and the knife slipped. In my defence, I was on the phone at the time. Then again, maybe that’s not a point in my favour.’

‘So what’s someone from Quebec doing in Skåne?’

‘I work in mineral prospecting.’

‘Gold?’

He laughs. ‘Nothing quite as exciting. Vanadium – at least that’s what we hope to find when we do the test drilling. If I can manage not to slice through an artery before then.’

Maybe it’s the fact that they’re speaking French, but something about this whole situation has put Thea in a good mood.

‘Nice trick.’ He points to the blood pressure cuff. ‘Very smart. I’m guessing you didn’t learn that at medical school?’

‘No. I used to work for Doctors Without Borders. Africa, the Middle East. You learn to improvise.’

‘Aha – that explains why your French is so good. I imagine you’ve seen worse things than a little cut.’

‘I have.’

‘I’m pleased to be in experienced hands if anything else happens.’

Philippe is just about to get up when Dr Andersson comes bustling in. She stops dead, stares at the blood-soaked cloth and the stranger half-lying on the couch.

‘Goodness me – what’s going on here?’

‘A gash to the hand. Six stitches.’

Philippe holds up his hand, displaying the dressing. So he understands Swedish, Thea thinks.

‘Very dramatic! Have you updated the daily log?’

‘Not yet – I’ve only just finished.’

‘No problem – I’ll do it.’

The doctor sits down at the desk and opens the laptop. Thea thinks she looks a little taken aback, but it passes so quickly that she can’t be sure. Then she realises that she might not have deleted the illicit search for Elita’s notes. She studies the other woman’s face carefully, but Dr Andersson gives nothing away.

25

At the end of the working day, Dr Andersson drops her off at the coach house. It might be Thea’s imagination, but she thinks her companion has been a little less talkative than usual. She can’t shake off the feeling of having been caught out.

There’s a pick-up and trailer outside the house. A man in overalls and goggles is cutting the hedges with some kind of power tool. He waves as she approaches the front door, and she recognises him. He’s the man with the bushy red beard who was in Erik Nyberg’s kitchen.

Emee is pleased to see her. Thea is about to fetch the lead to take her out when there’s a knock on the door. The man with the beard is standing there.

‘Sorry to bother you, but could I possibly use your bathroom?’

‘Of course.’ She steps aside. ‘It’s on the left in the hallway.’

‘I know – Per and I worked on the renovations.’

He disappears, and returns after a couple of minutes.

‘We’re still in a bit of a mess – we haven’t settled in properly yet,’ Thea says, waving a hand in the direction of the piles of boxes and removal crates.

‘This is nothing. I helped my eldest daughter to move before Christmas, and she’s still got stuff in boxes.’ His smile is wide and infectious. ‘Stefan Holmkvist, usually known as Little Stefan.’

‘Why?’

He laughs. ‘You’re the first person who’s asked that question for many years. There were two Stefans in my class when I started school. I was small and skinny back then, so . . .’ He spreads his arms wide. ‘I overtook the other Stefan within a few years, but by then the name had stuck.’ He laughs again. Little Stefan seems to be a very likeable person. He’s also worked for both the castle and for Erik Nyberg, so he probably knows a great deal about the area. Thea decides to postpone the dog walk.

‘Would you like a coffee?’

‘Yes, please.’

They go into the kitchen and she makes them both an Americano in David’s ridiculously expensive coffee machine. She even manages to find a packet of biscuits.

‘How many children do you have, Stefan?’ she asks, softening him up.

‘Three, plus two grandchildren and another one on the way.’

He takes out his phone and shows her pictures of his grandchildren while telling her an anecdote about their nursery school. Thea lets him talk for a while before gently nudging the conversation in the direction she wants it to go.

‘Dr Andersson and I were out at the hunting lodge the other day.’

‘Kerstin Miller’s place? She’s a fantastic teacher – she taught all my children.’

‘She and Dr Andersson told me about Elita Svart. What an awful business!’

Little Stefan nods.

‘Did you know Elita?’

‘No, although I bumped into her occasionally on the estate. She lived at Svartgården, deep in the marsh. A terrible place.’

‘In what way?’ Thea does her best to sound vaguely interested.

‘Lasse Svart ran it down to the ground. He wanted the castle to pay for every little repair, even though the tenancy agreement stated that he was responsible for the upkeep of the property. And he didn’t pay the rent on time. We often went out there to . . .’

He breaks off, helps himself to a biscuit and takes a bite.

‘We?’ Thea says encouragingly.

‘Me and Erik Nyberg. Per too, sometimes. It was best if there were two of us when it came to dealing with Lasse Svart. He was a dangerous man.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Violent – at least according to the rumours. There was a lot of gossip; plenty of people were afraid of him. I know he had a hell of a temper. It can’t have been easy for those he lived with – Eva-Britt and Lola.’

‘What about Elita’s stepbrother?’

‘Leo?’ Little Stefan pulls a face. ‘Things weren’t easy for