Silenced by Kristina Ohlsson Page A

Elsie who came out with it.
    ‘But we were closer before,’ she said in an undertone.
    ‘Any particular reason for that?’ Joar asked lightly.
    Elsie appeared to droop.
    ‘Not really, but, well, how shall I put it, I suppose we grew apart. It doesn’t just happen when you’re young, it can happen in later life, too.’
    Sven nodded eagerly, almost too eagerly, as though Elsie had said something really brilliant, though not necessarily true.
    ‘We’ve found ourselves in different circles these last few years,’ he said, looking almost cheerful as he spoke, as if the words were coming much more easily than he had thought they might. ‘And after Elsie and I gave up work, church wasn’t quite such a hub for us any longer.’
    ‘But they’d invited you to dinner yesterday?’ Fredrika enquired.
    ‘Oh yes. We still saw each other socially sometimes.’
    This steered the conversation naturally round to what had actually happened the evening before. They had rung the doorbell repeatedly, knocked and then hammered on the door. Waited and then knocked again. Tried ringing the house phone and then Jakob and Marja’s mobiles. And got no answer anywhere.
    ‘I started to have this feeling,’ Elsie said, her voice trembling. ‘A sort of premonition that something awful had happened. I can’t explain why I had that feeling and insisted we let ourselves into the flat with our key. Sven thought I was being silly and we ought to just go back home and wait. But I wouldn’t, and said if he went home I’d go in and look by myself.’
    Elsie had won the debate on the landing and unlocked the front door with the key she had in her handbag.
    ‘Why did you have their spare key with you?’ asked Fredrika.
    Sven sighed.
    ‘Because I think keys are valuables you should always keep with you,’ Elsie replied almost angrily, glaring at Sven.
    ‘So you always carry all your keys with you?’ asked Joar with a disarming laugh.
    ‘Yes, of course,’ said Elsie.
    ‘Our house keys, our younger son’s house keys, the boat keys,’ muttered Sven, shaking his head.
    Joar leant forward in his armchair and said: ‘What did you think when you found them?’
    It went very quiet.
    ‘We thought somebody had shot them,’ whispered Elsie. ‘We ran out of the flat and rang the police straight away.’
    ‘But now you know the police found a farewell note,’ ventured Fredrika.
    For the first time in the interview, Elsie looked on the verge of tears.
    ‘Jakob’s been struggling with his condition as long as we’ve known him,’ she said in a high-pitched voice. ‘But he’d never have done anything as crazy as shooting himself and Marja. Never .’
    Sven nodded in agreement.
    ‘Jacob was a man of the Church and would never have betrayed his God like that.’
    Joar stroked his coffee cup.
    ‘We all like to think we know our friends inside and out,’ he said in a controlled tone. ‘But there are a few basic facts in this particular case that can’t be ignored.’
    To Fredrika’s surprise, Joar got up and started walking slowly round the room.
    ‘One. Jakob Ahlbin suffered from chronic depression. He’d had electric shock therapy for it, several times. Two. Jakob was on medication. We found pills and prescriptions in the flat. Three. A few days ago he was told that his elder daughter had died of an overdose.’
    Joar paused.
    ‘Is it really out of the question for him to have gone mad with grief and shot his wife and himself to end their suffering?’
    Elsie shook her head vigorously.
    ‘That’s not right!’ she cried. ‘None of it. For Lina, of all people, to have taken an overdose. I’ve known that girl since she was tiny and I can swear on the Bible she’s never been anywhere near any kind of addiction.’
    Sven nodded again.
    ‘For people like us, who’ve known the family for decades, none of this makes any sense,’ he said.
    ‘But then all families have their problems and secrets, don’t they?’ Fredrika