The Forest Lake Mystery Read online

  Your own Annie.

  Dear Mum,

  You mustn’t believe any of the evil things that people are saying about me, because it’s not true. For God’s sake, a girl is allowed to get herself a fiancé, and I’m still only 21 years old, Sjöström says that now we have to exchange rings and then you’ll hear more from us…

  Dear Mum,

  There’s no truth in what is being said in that magazine the magistrate sent me, it’s all slander by the evil newspaper people who need something to write about. Sjöström has absolutely not stolen from the cash box like they write and has absolutely not been dismissed, but they don’t want him to marry me, and he does, so we’re going away. And all that about my wild life isn’t true either, because, for God’s sake, you’re surely allowed to have fun when you’re young and it’s God’s fault, because he could have let me keep Elsa, then it wouldn’t have gone like this, but I’m sure It will be good again, because Hugold is very clever. And what’s in the magazines isn’t true – in the larger, good magazines there’s nothing at all, it’s just the gutter rags that have to write about something to earn their money…

  Dear Mum

  Now we’re in Berlin, and I know the place of course. It’s very cold here, but it was best that we left and Hugold will get something going down here where he knows many people. Now we’re married, we did it here at the consul, and I’m going to send the magistrate a copy of the papers, so that you can see that it’s all done correctly. We don’t have much money right now, but we’ll get more, I’m sure. I promise you’ll hear from me again soon.

  There seemed to be a long time when Annie and her “husband” were wandering around Germany and suffering badly. The first letter of any real interest in the large number of them is dated Paris, 28th December, 1899 and reads as follows:

  Dear Mum

  It’s been a hard Christmas, I’ve been here alone, you know, because Sjöström had left me and I was totally on my own. And it was like when Elsa died, that I thought now my time is also over, because God must know that I have perhaps sinned a lot and done much that wasn’t right in my time, but God has not been good to me. Because I loved him then, when I was 16 years old, and since then I haven’t loved anyone even if I haven’t behaved as I should have done, but men are evil. So I wanted to die because I’m ill and poor and have felt ashamed and I don’t want to be poor and nasty and they will look down on me, because I’m young, just thirty years old and that’s not old. But something happened when I was walking down the street, because it was so scary and cold in the attic where I was living. I followed the lights and the places where we used to go before when we had money, but I was ashamed of my clothes because they aren’t very nice any more. Then I happened to see him, so I went over and he looked at me. He has become very old now, he must be fifty and is white-haired, I haven’t seen him since it happened. But he was sort of touched at seeing how unhappy I was, and I didn’t think he was capable of that, but he was. And so we spent Christmas together. But since you have to let the magistrate read what I’m writing, I can’t tell you what happened between us – but it was the most awful experience of my life, and it even took place on a sacred Christmas Eve. Now I’ve moved and am well, because he has given me so much money that I can now easily manage with money, but I will never forget the other stuff…

  Dear Mum – so you got the money. It’s really lovely now down here in this town, where there are no proper streets, but only canals where we’re ferried around in small black boats called gondolas. We live in a house on the grandest canal of all and Sjöström likes it very much. We’re very good friends once again now, because basically he is a good man, but we didn’t love each other but there are many married people who don’t and for me it’s a great pleasure to have a man who has a nice name. Many people come here, mostly gentlemen, but also some ladies, and it’s great fun down here in Italy where everything is free and easy and especially where they sail around in the streets in the evening and sing as beautifully as at home down by the Laga in Bäckaryd in the summer evenings. I’ve become really young again and everyone says I’m so beautiful, the most beautiful of them all. And I’ve got a lot of rings and stones and the sort of things that the gentlemen give you down here. You got the 100 kroner I sent to the magistrate, didn’t you?

  … Now we’re back in Venice. Guess who I’ve met – that is, not to talk to, but she lives right next door to me. Her sister, and she looks like her, like one drop of water looks like another. You mustn’t tell the magistrate anything about her or him under any circumstances, otherwise I’ll be eternally unhappy, but I’ll tell you about it at some point. And you won’t believe who else I’ve met – his son. It’s really strange, because it makes me feel I’m getting old and I’m not at all, but he’s married to a very ugly wife, and they’re living with his aunt right next door to me. He came in here a few days ago, but his wife wasn’t with him. She doesn’t know anything at all about it. I don’t like him – he’s not like he used to be. But he liked me – I could see that. We’ll meet again, I’m sure – I’ve taken in a young girl named Johanna Ljunggren, whose father used to be the captain of the guard in his squadron. It’s nice to have someone here with me and she’s been through a lot just like me.

  … Now Sjöström has left again. He wanted to divorce me, but I don’t want that because here in these countries it’s good to have a husband, because otherwise you don’t count for anything and there are so many loose women and that kind of thing. But I think he’ll be back, he’s still the best when all’s said and done, even though he often gets worked up and hits me and he threatened to shoot me once in Monte Carlo, where there are gambling tables, because I wouldn’t give him more money because I think it’s stupid to gamble it away and I’d really like to save as much as possible so that we can come home to Sweden to live when we grow older and to see you again, Mum, because I miss you. I have some money and papers, because now I’m sensible and put money aside, and I have quite a lot, but this time I want lots and lots of money, because it’s not good when you get older. But Sjöström spends so much and sometimes is quite impossible…

  … It’s almost a year since I thought we were coming home, but we haven’t arrived yet. I can’t get away from here and I can’t tell you why, but I might be coming to Sweden this spring. But you remember I wrote about his son who is terribly rich and who gives me all the money I want and now I spend a lot because I want to live now while I’m young. I have four horses and a coachman and a servant, and Sjöström is happy with that. I don’t like him any more – I’ve never really loved him, but you have to have a husband. I think he liked me a lot before, then there was a while when he didn’t care about me, but now I think he’s started again. And that’s not very good, because I don’t like him hanging around me, and everything’s mine, of course, but I can’t explain that in more detail. If I could, I’d divorce him, but that’s not good either, and it’ll stay the same as it was, I suppose. The other man, the one I talked about, loves me a lot and will do anything for me, but I don’t like him because he’s his son. But I realised that I can get him to do whatever I want, and take revenge for everything that he put me through, both long ago and that terrible Christmas in Paris, and so I set out to be really nasty, and I can be because people have made me into that sort of person, and, as you know, Mum, I was good once. But it’s all God’s fault, and that’s how it should be. Now I’ll send some money home to the bank in Kristianstad, and Madam Karlkvist’s son, him the lawyer, will look after it because it’s a lot of money and I have more so you won’t want for anything in your old age, Mum…

  The rest of the letters were shorter, but still contained messages about the large amount of money Annie had and would send home. The last two were quite short and the most important of them all. The penultimate was dated Copenhagen 21st March, 1902, and read as follows:

  Dear Mum

  Now I’m in Copenhagen and you’ll see me soon. Sjöström won’t be coming with me,
because now I’ve finished with him and we’re going to get divorced. He has begun drinking and he and Johanna, who I don’t like any more, are now together, and he’s often quite wild and wants to harm me and I won’t put up with it. I don’t need any more men, for now I’m certainly going to take my revenge on him as I’ve promised, and now I know where to hit him, but I don’t really care any more. I can’t write what it is, but I’ll tell you all that later. In eight days, it’s done and then I’ll come…

  The last letter was dated Elsinore, 27th March, 1902, and read as follows:

  Dear Mum,

  If Sjöström writes or comes, don’t tell him where I am, because I don’t want to see him any more, he’s got what was coming to him and more. I’ll send 200 kroner so that you’re okay or if the magistrate can get a house because I’m rich and can pay and have a lot of money in the bank. I have to wait here, but it won’t be for long. Finally, remember about Sjöström, because he’ll probably write…

  The money hadn’t arrived. This last letter was written on a closed postcard and sent from Elsinore, probably on Annie’s last day alive. Most of her life story was told in these letters, but what seemed to be her evil destiny was hidden for an ordinary reader. However, it was possible that the magistrate knew something about this. In any case, the old woman had to know who the person was whose name Annie didn’t dare mention, and who seemed to have played such a big part in her life. With regard to the actual murder, it was simple to conclude what the accompanying circumstances were and especially who the killer was. It was Sjöström, strange that the magistrate hadn’t thought so, but the individual circumstances could hardly have been clear to him. Another important point was that Annie had eventually left a considerable fortune, which could probably be traced, even though the killer had most probably taken possession of it, although it was possible of course that he didn’t know where it had been deposited. But it was clear that the case, as it now stood, had become considerably more interesting and Holst couldn’t deny that the spoils looked considerable and this factor was important for him now.

  However, now he wanted to rest – to sleep on it and get cracking for all he was worth immediately the next morning because there was something to get cracking on.

  IX

  Immediately after their first meal together, the magistrate and Holst set about considering what they already knew. It soon became apparent that the magistrate didn’t know anything more than what could be deduced from the letters and his personal knowledge of Annie and her mother. The old woman had read the early letters herself, but in the autumn of 1899 her eyesight had become so weak that she couldn’t read any more, so the magistrate had stepped in. He had often asked her about the vague allusions to ‘him’ and the old woman had always answered that she wasn’t at liberty to say. He had thought about it, but as he was a person of sober mind and not romantic in the slightest, he had gradually got used to these allusions without thinking any more about them. He didn’t understand how Annie had come into the money that she clearly had. He didn’t believe in the marriage to Sjöström and was inclined to share Holst’s suspicion about this. Everything seemed quite natural and it would in particular be important to learn where Annie’s money had been deposited and how much of it was left, or if, after her death, Sjöström had taken possession of it all. Information about this could be obtained from the lawyer, Karlkvist, in Kristianstad, so that would be the next place to which Holst would have to turn.

  Holst didn’t say a word to the magistrate about knowing Ankerkrone and Kurk, or of his suspicions about any connection that could possibly exist between Annie and Ankerkrone. In any case, it didn’t have any relevance to the case and in the years the three friends had visited Bäckaryd, the magistrate had been away so he couldn’t personally know anything about what may have happened. On the other hand, it was possible Holst would be able to find out something from old Mrs Bengtson. He now knew that what was most important was the content of Annie’s last two letters. It was particularly strange that Sjöström hadn’t ever contacted Annie’s mother in writing or in person, as Annie had assumed he would. It clearly implied that it was him who had committed the murder and his motive, quite understandably, had been to get hold of his lover’s money. Holst didn’t believe that Sjöström had been married to Annie; it was a possibility, of course, but since she had alluded to a divorce and had written that the matter had now been settled, it must be possible to obtain information about this matter from her legal adviser in Kristianstad.

  It turned out that what Mrs Bengtson would tell them was really only about Annie’s relationship with the unnamed man and, even then, just the favourable aspects of who he was. Holst had to admit that his motive for looking for clarification on this question was purely personal and that he had no serious doubts about who he was. He also had to admit that it would be heartless of him, in order to get an answer to this question, to reveal to the old woman the terrible fate that had met her daughter. After the manner in which the magistrate had laid the ground, the notification of Annie’s death would come to her smoothly and naturally and find her fairly well prepared. It was even possible that the investigation of the daughter’s fortune could lead to the old woman, although receiving the information about Annie’s death, at the same time feeling comforted by the news that she wouldn’t have to suffer hardship in her old age. Holst therefore decided to refrain from any attempt to learn anything from the old woman about the strange and sinister connection that undoubtedly had to exist between Annie’s fate and that of his friend, Captain Ankerkrone. There was basically nothing else for him to do than to make the necessary copies of Annie’s letters and then go to Kristianstad to follow the trail that might lead to the apprehension of the murderer.

  Holst’s familiarity with written work meant that the copying went smoothly, but it still took time and a few days went by while he worked conscientiously and at full speed while, to be on the safe side, making sure he had copies of all the letters, even those that seemed unimportant.

  At midday on the third day, the magistrate came in to him just as he was finishing the copy of the last letter. He looked very solemn, which instinctively startled Holst who thus expected a message of great importance.

  “Lieutenant,” said the magistrate, “I’m afraid old Mrs Bengtson has fallen seriously ill. She has sent for the priest and for me. I thought it possible that the Lieutenant would like to come with me, in case something was said that might be of some importance.”

  Holst got up quickly to accompany him. It was obvious that it might be very important for him if the old woman had something to say in her last moments – because there could be no doubt that she was in her final hours.

  They went to the house together and entered the small living room where the old woman was lying in bed, supported by pillows, weak and dying, while the priest bent over her and delivered the holy sacraments. Holst and the magistrate stood silently by until the holy act was over, then the old woman nodded to the magistrate and looked up at him with a faint smile.

  “Yes, Magistrate, now I have to go,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll meet my little Annie before you, because I dreamt so clearly that night you told me about the stranger from Denmark that little Annie had passed on before me.”

  Her voice sounded quite strong as she turned her eyes on Holst.

  “Well, now,” she continued, “perhaps this is the stranger, the one who had heard about little Annie.”

  The magistrate nodded, while the dying woman seemed to look at Holst but didn’t say anything. She gestured to the magistrate to come closer; as he approached her, she didn’t appear to be concerned about the others.

  “Magistrate,” she said in a whisper, “when I die, would you take the letter lying in the drawer over there and make sure it gets to the person who should have it. It’s written on the outside.”

  She waved the magistrate even closer and whispered to him in a scarcely audible voice, “The name of the man the magistrate has as
ked about so often is Arvid Ankerkrone, but the magistrate may not tell anyone else in the whole world and the letters should be passed on to him.”

  Holst heard every word clearly, but he didn’t bat an eyelid.

  The old woman’s voice became weaker; she sank into a drowsiness, and when the doctor arrived a quarter of an hour later, she was dead.

  Holst and the magistrate went home together. Holst asked if the old woman had given any message, but it was clear that the magistrate was reluctant to answer and they didn’t discuss it any more.

  Holst had planned to leave in the evening. He thanked his host for his hospitality and wanted to pay for his stay, but the magistrate would on no account accept any reimbursement. On the other hand, he was very troubled, thought Holst, and after a while he understood that the magistrate was very uncertain as to what to do with the letter he had taken from the old woman’s corner cupboard. He didn’t think he could refrain from informing Holst and it was of course an official matter that could bring him an official reprimand from his superior if he dealt with it incorrectly. On the other hand, he didn’t want to ignore the wish of a dying woman.