Free The Intruder by Hakan Ostlundh

the grandmother has any great weight in this case. If it had been a regular will it would have been a different story, but without one of course it’s the mother who inherits.”
    “I checked with Lantmäteriet,” said Sara.
    “Yes?”
    Peter Klint laced his hands together and leaned back in the chair.
    “Four years ago Ernst Vogler transferred most of the property to Elisabet, but nothing to the other daughter, Alma. Alma on the other hand bought a smaller property on Fårö, a single-family house on an ordinary lot, about the same time the farm was signed over to Elisabet.”
    “It sounds like Grandmother’s money went to compensate the daughter who didn’t get any share in the farm,” said Klint.
    “Yes, that would be my guess anyway.”
    “You can think what you want about it, but the mother does as she wants with the inheritance from the grandmother, that’s how it is.”
    Klint threw out his hands symbolically and let the money fly away. “The letter is not enough, I would say. An individual may have a number of different thoughts and intentions about what she leaves behind, but it is always possible to maintain that the person in question changed their mind between the time she expressed them and when she actually died.”
    “So Henrik Kjellander doesn’t have much of a case?”
    “Probably not. But this does not rule out him suing them anyway. If he’s lucky they’ll be frightened enough to give in and propose a settlement.”
    It had not sounded as if Elisabet Vogler had any settlement in mind, thought Sara. More likely the contrary.
    *   *   *
    Gotland University College was housed in a beautiful old factory building that was attached to a newly constructed part with a glass façade facing toward Cramérgatan. G OTLANDS M ALT F ACTORY AB could still be read at the very top of the façade on the older part. Something that surely had given rise to many tired student jokes.
    The sea breeze swept in from Hamnplan and blew sand in the eyes of Fredrik and Sara as they got out of the car. Squinting, they turned toward Almedalen and the library, where the swinging doors let out a group of students who were done for the day. The students stopped briefly on the sidewalk and spoke with large gestures before they separated. Perhaps plans for the evening.
    Fredrik and Sara passed through the college’s can-like metal and glass entry and asked at reception for Alma Vogler.
    Alma worked at the college computer support department on the second floor in the factory building. She was blond, like Elisabet, but in contrast to her sister, she looked much more like Henrik. Especially the curious, inviting gaze and the kind, almost childish face. She was thirty, according to the census records, two years younger than her sister.
    “We can go down and sit in the mezzanine in the restaurant. There probably aren’t too many people there this time of day,” she suggested.
    They went one flight down to the restaurant to immediately go one flight up to the balcony that hovered in the middle of the glass wall facing Cramérgatan.
    Alma had guessed right. A few students were sitting at the tables on the ground level, but the balcony was empty.
    “What we mainly want to know is where you were on Saturday,” said Sara as soon as they sat down.
    “Yes, I heard that you’ve been at my sister’s, but I don’t really understand why you’re asking.”
    It was clear, Elisabet had presumably run to the phone as soon as they left. They looked at Alma, waiting for her answer.
    “Excuse me, I should answer the question. I was out shopping right before lunch, otherwise I was at home all day. You can ask my husband.”
    “So do you mean you shopped on Fårö?” asked Sara.
    “Yes, at Nyström’s.”
    “Were you alone or did you have anyone with you?”
    “I went alone; it usually goes quicker that way. Nisse and Marta were at home with Krister.”
    “Krister is your husband?”
    “Exactly.”
    “Can you estimate how