Missing in Malmö: The third Inspector Anita Sundström mystery (Inspector Anita Sundström mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page B

night was windy. It whipped the clouds across the sky, allowing the moon to appear only fleetingly. But it was enough to light his way. At least it wasn’t raining. And it usually rained in Cumbria in his experience. He crossed the bridge and climbed up the steep incline that led into the village. He knew where the house was that he was going to break into. The instructions had been very specific. He had no choice in the matter. The threat had been specific, too. It would have been easier to park in the village, but he didn’t want the risk of someone waking in the middle of night and spotting his car. The bank up from the bridge was almost vertical, and he was soon out of breath. Not getting any younger, he thought. It was madness to be here in the first place, but the consequences would be dire if he didn’t go through with it.
    As he passed the first houses, he was relieved that there was no sign of life in any of them. At three o’clock on a Saturday morning, he reckoned that late-night revellers would have gone to bed and it would be too early for farmers to be out and about.
    At the top of the bank, the village opened out, with a green running up the middle, on either side of which ancient cottages clutched each other, as if trying to keep warm in the chill air. At the other end of the green, he could just make out a vast tree, imperious in its solitude. Even from this distance, he could hear the leaves rustling eerily in the wind. Some were being prematurely ripped off their branches by the gusts. In a month they would all be gone. To his right was the chapel, and on the left, the village pub. He had clocked the landmarks on his drive through yesterday afternoon. He had needed to get his bearings. The house he had been sent to was behind him. Like many of the buildings in the village, it was 18th-century. It was large and sturdy and may well have been a farmhouse in a previous life. An owl hooted; it was so close that it made him start. There was no sign of life at the front of the house. He knew the only occupant slept on this side. His goal was the office at the back, overlooking the garden. He quietly retraced his steps. Right on cue, the moon made another brief appearance. It was out long enough for him to make out the gleam of the wrought-iron garden gate. He had been given very precise information about where to get in. How he got in was up to him. Once inside, he knew where to go. Through the small hallway and the kitchen, along the corridor, and the office was at the end. He wouldn’t have to waste precious time trying to find what he had been sent to get. He had been told exactly where it was located.
    He carefully stepped along the stone path through the garden. Only when he reached the back door, did he dare turn on his torch. The door was half-glazed with six clear panes. He knew it would be. This was the risky bit – breaking the glass. It might disturb the occupant, or possibly some light sleeper in the house next door. He nudged the pane closest to the handle. To no effect. He was being too pussy-footed. This time he gave it a juddering blow with his elbow. It smashed, and the cacophony made his heart leap painfully. It seemed as if the shattered glass was hitting the stone-flagged floor inside the house in slow motion. Fortunately, he was just calm enough to realise that the wind would muffle the sound. He waited for a few moments to hear if he had disturbed anyone. Nothing. He took a deep breath and gingerly poked his hand through the broken pane and flicked the latch. He was in.

CHAPTER 7
    Anita let Björn lie in. She had managed to steer him onto the opened-out day bed in the living room the night before. He had made a cursory effort to seduce her by cupping a breast in his hand. She had easily evaded any other attempt. With Björn it didn’t actually mean anything – it was just a reflex action. There was one wistful moment when she saw him curled up on the sofa and remembered how wonderful