“Please sit down,” Monika said.
Embla chose one of the chairs, while Harald and Monika sat close together on the sofa, unconsciously seeking each other’s hands. The cane creaked alarmingly beneath their combined weight.
No time for small talk—best get on with it, Embla thought.
“Are you absolutely certain the man is dead?” she began, looking at Harald.
“Definitely. All the blood . . . the head . . .” He broke off, fighting back the nausea.
He’s a huntsman. I’m sure he knows a fatal bullet wound when he sees one, Embla thought.
“When did he arrive?” she asked.
After a quick glance at her husband, who was still swallowing hard, Monika answered. “Yesterday afternoon. He signed in as Jan Müller, which was the name he’d used when he booked. And he said he didn’t want to be disturbed, so he requested the accommodation that was farthest away.”
Embla frowned. “Farthest away? But they’re all pretty close together along the slope, aren’t they?”
“It’s not one of the cabins by the lake—we have three newly built cottages on the road leading down to Klevskog—the nature reserve.”
Embla knew nothing about the nature reserve or the cottages, but decided to keep that to herself. “Are all three cottages currently occupied?”
The couple shook their heads, then Harald got to his feet with a mumbled apology. He looked terrible. He quickly walked over to a closed door, opened it, and disappeared. Monika watched him go with a concerned expression, then turned back to Embla.
“No. Our winter guests usually stay in the cabins by the lake. It was only Jan Müller who specifically asked to be by the nature reserve.”
“So how far away are these cottages?”
Monika frowned. “Let me think . . . The turnoff is about a hundred and fifty meters from here, then it’s maybe a hundred meters to the first cottage. They’re twenty meters apart—I remember that from the architect’s drawings.”
So the man had chosen to be as far away as possible from the main guesthouse, which might suggest that he’d been intending to take his own life, and didn’t want to risk being disturbed.
The door opened and Harald reappeared. His face was still flushed, but he looked calmer. He sank down on the sofa, which complained loudly.
“Sorry—I just needed a glass of water.”
Monika took his hand and squeezed it, while Embla gave him an encouraging smile.
“I assume Müller had a car.”
“Yes, an SUV—an Audi. And it was new—I remember him telling me he was breaking it in.”
“What color?”
“White.”
“Has the road to the cottages been cleared?”
“Yes—the snowplow goes all the way to the reserve.”
“Müller . . . Is he German?”
Harald frowned. “I don’t think so. He spoke Swedish; he sounded as if he came from Gothenburg. He did have a slight accent, but we have a lot of German guests and they don’t sound like that. Hard to say where he came from, really.”
Monika nodded in agreement.
“What did he look like? How old was he? Any distinguishing features?” Embla continued.
Harald nodded to his wife to take over.
“Average height or slightly below, but powerfully built. I’d say he was between forty-five and fifty. Dark hair peppered with gray, a small bald patch that he was trying to hide with a comb-over. He was in a smart suit and a blue overcoat when he arrived, and he was also well-dressed at dinner last night. I remember he was wearing a pretty strong fragrance, and he had an enormous gold watch on his wrist. I noticed it when he checked in.”
“When did he make the reservation?”
“Early yesterday morning, and he immediately asked if any of the cottages by the nature reserve were available. When I told him all three were empty, he asked for the one farthest away.”
So he must have been familiar with the three cottages. Then again, no doubt the information was on the guesthouse’s website; Embla had taken a quick look before she set off for Herremark, although she’d missed the cottages.
“How long was he planning to stay?”
Harald took over. “Just the one night. He booked a table for dinner on Friday and breakfast on Saturday. He said he was an early riser, so he ordered breakfast for seven o’clock sharp. He mentioned it more than once, so when he didn’t appear this morning, I called the cottage. It was just before seven-thirty. There was no answer, which worried me; I thought he might have come down with something. It’s pretty isolated when the other cottages are empty.”
“When did you go to check on him?”
“At about quarter to eight. I took the car.”
Embla stood up. “Okay, I’ll go and take a look. Can you give me your cell phone numbers and a key? Plus I’ll need directions.”
“I don’t think I locked the door when I left, but here’s one of our spare keys.”
Harald produced a key from his pocket and passed it over to Embla.
“Was the place locked up when you got there?”
“Yes, but the key wasn’t inside.”
A detail that could be important.
“Is it possible that someone got a hold of a spare key?”
Harald shook his head. “No,” he said firmly. “There are four keys to each cottage. I gave one to Müller, and the other three are in our locked key cabinet. I noticed when I took out that one this morning.” His finger was trembling as he pointed to the key in Embla’s hand.
According to Harald’s directions, she was to drive approximately one hundred and fifty meters heading north on the 172 before turning off when she saw the sign for Klevskog Nature Reserve. Just as Harald had said, the road had been cleared. Through the snow-mist she could see the three cottages in a row.
Large fields extended on both sides of the road. Dense snow smoke whirled across the landscape in the strong wind. Embla could see majestic fir trees beyond the cottages, where the nature reserve began. Harald had given her a quick rundown before she left.
Klevskog was famous for being home to a variety of species, particularly birds. In the middle of the reserve lay a shallow lake, ideal for waders and seabirds. There were no houses inside the reserve. The cottages had been built with birdwatchers in mind, but because the standard was so high, they also attracted visitors who weren’t particularly keen on birds. According to Harald, the project had been a very good investment. However, they weren’t rented out as much from November to March, when tourists preferred to be closer to the guesthouse.