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

‘I know. He’s always been like that, ever since we were in school.’ Sebastian shakes his head, looking faintly amused. ‘The three of us took part in a radio quiz, did you know that? We got as far as the semi-final, and the scores were even. The last question was the decider. Nettan and I knew the answer, David didn’t agree – but it was two against one. David was our designated speaker, and when it was our turn he ignored what we’d said and gave his own answer.’

‘And you lost.’

‘By one point. The team that beat us went on to win the final. If David had stuck to the plan, then . . .’ He spreads his hands in a gesture of resignation. ‘We’re worried that he’s well on the way to making the same kind of mistake now – reaching the wrong decision off his own bat, and leaving Nettan and me to suffer the consequences.’

Thea nods. There’s a question she simply has to ask.

‘You were talking about Elita Svart yesterday, weren’t you?’

Sebastian stiffens.

‘So you heard that, even though you weren’t eavesdropping. How much do you know?’

‘That all four of you were there when she died – you, David, Nettan and Jan-Olof.’

‘We were.’

‘You told the police it was Leo who killed her.’

‘We said he was riding the horse,’ Sebastian corrects her. ‘Leo confessed to killing Elita.’

‘There are suggestions that he made his confession under duress.’

Sebastian shakes his head angrily.

‘That’s crap. It was Leo we saw. Elita had arranged for him to come galloping into the stone circle and frighten us away, and he did. We ran for our lives.’

‘Except for David. He went back. He saw Leo bending over Elita.’

‘Yes, but you need to talk to him about that, not me.’

Sebastian takes a deep breath, glances demonstratively at his heavy watch.

‘One last question,’ Thea says. ‘A Polaroid was taken at the sacrificial stone at some point before Walpurgis Night. Elita was dressed as the spring sacrifice, and the four of you were wearing animal masks. Who took the picture?’

He stares at her for a few seconds.

‘I’ve no idea. I think maybe Elita took it using the automatic timer, but it’s all so long ago. I can’t really recall the details, and to be honest, it’s not something any of us wants to rake over.’ He looks at his watch again; he’s had enough of her questions. ‘Anyway, I have to go, but as I said, Nettan and I would really appreciate it if you could help us out with David. Stop him from making a mistake that could cost us all dearly.’

He gives her a meaningful look before getting back in the car. As he drives past, Thea glances at the cramped back seat. On the floor is a pair of wellington boots.

62

She takes Emee for a walk and buys lunch at the local pizzeria. Tries to force it down at her desk.

She thinks about the wellington boots in Sebastian’s car; were they the same as the ones she saw at Svartgården? A pair of boots doesn’t make him a suspect, and what would Sebastian have to hide? He was twelve years old when everything happened.

Thea gets out her finds from Svartgården: the bubbly Polaroid Elita took of herself sitting on the bed, and the beret without its badge.

She looks at the photograph first, the blue case under the bed. Elita had packed her best clothes. She was planning to run away, not to die. But the case is missing.

She fingers the beret. The fabric smells of damp. Leo’s handwriting inside is unexpectedly neat. 223 Rasmussen.

There are several things about the beret that bother her. David and the others claimed that Leo was dressed as the Green Man when he came galloping into the glade, that he had a pair of antlers on his head, not his beret. He could have had it in his pocket, of course, but in that case how did he lose the badge? And what was the beret doing on the kitchen floor?

However, that’s far from the greatest mystery at Svartgården. The remaining three inhabitants clearly left in haste. Judging by the handprint, one of them was injured. Possibly Lasse.

So what happened? Why did they flee without packing any clothes or even grabbing their medication? And where did they go?

Thea adds those questions to the growing list in her head. What should she do next? She googles the book about false confessions.

The author has a homepage with both an email address and a mobile number. He answers almost right away. Kurt Bexell has a soft, melodic voice, and seems pleased that someone is interested in his work. Thea spins him a line, tells him she’s also a writer and is planning to write a true crime book about the case.

‘The spring sacrifice? Oh yes, I remember it well. It was an old friend in the probation service who gave me the heads up and put me in touch with Leo Rasmussen. The whole thing seemed very promising at first.’

‘Did you meet Leo?’

‘No, we spoke on the phone a few times. He was living overseas. I explained the premise of my book and told him about some similar cases. I said I’d read the transcripts of his interviews and thought he’d been affected by memory distrust syndrome. Do you know what that means? I describe it in considerable detail in the book.’

He doesn’t wait for her response; he’s excited to have the opportunity to hold forth on his area of expertise.

‘The suspect is under so much pressure that he no longer trusts his own memories. Eventually reality, fantasy and police claims merge, until he believes in his own guilt, or at least doubts his innocence. Stress, sleep deprivation and isolation combined with lengthy, difficult interviews and leading questions are strong contributory factors, and Leo was subjected to all of those things. He was also mentally fragile after his stepsister’s violent death, and the fact that his family had left him in the lurch.’

‘What