BooksBarbecue
Back Bad Apples
Chapters (65)
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  40. 40
  41. 41
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  65. Acknowledgements

He grunts his hello, then says, ‘Constable Thord isn’t available.’

‘I’m in Visberg and I’ve found a tooth in my pocket.’

‘You found a what in your pocket?’

‘A tooth. Looks like a child’s tooth.’

He’s quiet for a moment.

‘How’d it get in there? Who’s tooth is it, Moodyson?’

‘I have no idea.’

Another gunshot. Then another.

‘Can you bring it straight on over to the station and I’ll pass it over to the forensic team. Try not to touch it or…’ He pauses. ‘Just keep it safe but leave it alone.’

‘On my way.’

‘Oh and Moodyson.’

‘Yeah?’

‘You seen the watchmaker today, Wimmer, his name is. You seen him around Visberg town?’

‘I did earlier. Think he’s still inside his shop.’

‘Okay, then. If I’m not here when you arrive, someone else will have to process the item.’

He rings off.

You work as a journalist in LA or Cairo and you’ll rarely get close to the actual crimes, the actual evidence. It’s the opposite here. The town is so incredibly small and cut off that I get hands-on with crime scenes and I get too close to perpetrators. That’s the deal with small-town journalism: the big stories are few and far between, but when they break you’re right there in the middle of it all.

An expensive-looking minibus drives round past Konsum. The writing on the side of the bus says ‘Edlund’s Private Members Club’. It parks by the rear of the Hive. Six women and one man step out. All blond, all in golfing gear. They look around then disappear into the building.

More gunshots but they’re further away this time.

Ragnar Falk limps out of his old newspaper office and turns towards the Hive as well. Fuck me, everyone in this town is more focused on emptying their private storage units than they are on finding poor Emil.

I feel the tooth through the fabric of my jacket but I try not to touch it directly.

There’s a new sound coming from the forest down the hill. Sounds like trees being felled. Sounds like screaming chainsaws.

The streetlights are on and the air feels close to zero.

I get to my truck and start the engine. Heated seats on. Heated steering wheel on. I sync my hearing aid to my phone and set off. My dash reads zero degrees.

Feels like this whole town has something to hide today. Like there are groups and partnerships beneath the surface, secretive, closed communities with their own agendas. The sky may not be as dark as on Pan Night but this is worse. Clandestine chats and people emptying God-knows-what from anonymous storage units.