Read Online The Savage Altar by Åsa Larsson - Free Book Online Page B

money into the church,” Anna-Maria commented in measured tones. “What happened to the money from his book? What will happen to it now that he’s dead?”
    Gunnar Isaksson and Vesa Larsson turned to their colleague, Thomas Söderberg.
    “I don’t quite see what any of this has to do with your murder investigation?” Thomas Söderberg inquired in a friendly tone.
    “Just answer the question, please,” Sven-Erik replied amiably, but with an expression on his face that brooked no argument.
    "Viktor Strandgård made over all royalties from his book to the church long ago. After his death any income will continue to go to the church. So nothing will change."
    “How many copies of the book have been sold?” asked Anna-Maria.
    “Over a million, including translations,” replied Pastor Söderberg dryly, “and I still don’t really see—”
    “Have you sold anything else?” asked Sven-Erik. “Posters or anything?”
    “This is a church, not Viktor Strandgård’s fan club,” said Thomas Söderberg sharply. “We don’t sell pictures of him, but a certain amount of income has been generated from other sources—for example, video sales.”
    “What sort of videos?”
    Anna-Maria adjusted her position on the chair. She needed a pee.
    “We’ve taped sermons given by the three of us, or Viktor Strandgård, or guest preachers. Meetings and services have also been recorded,” replied Pastor Söderberg as he removed his glasses and took a spotless little handkerchief out of his trousers pocket.
    “You record your services on video?” asked Anna-Maria, altering her position on the chair yet again.
    “Yes,” answered Vesa Larsson, since Thomas Söderberg appeared to be too busy polishing his glasses to reply.
    “There was a service here yesterday,” said Anna-Maria, “and Viktor Strandgård was there. Was that recorded on video?”
    “Yes,” replied Pastor Larsson.
    “Right, we want that tape,” Sven-Erik said firmly. “And if there’s a service tonight, we’d like that tape as well. In fact, we’ll have all the tapes for the last month—what do you think, Anna-Maria?”
    “Good idea," she answered briefly.
    They looked up as the noise of the vacuum cleaner stopped. The woman who was cleaning had switched it off and gone over to the well-dressed woman; they were whispering to each other and looking over toward the pastors. The young man had sat down on one of the chairs and was leafing through his Bible. His lips were moving constantly. The well-dressed woman noticed that the conversation between the pastors and the police had ground to a halt, and seized the opportunity to come over.
    “Sorry to interrupt,” she said politely, and when no one stopped her she went on, facing the pastors. “Before this evening’s service, what shall we do about…”
    She fell silent and gestured with her right hand toward the bloodstained spot where Viktor Strandgård had lain.
    “As the floor isn’t varnished, I don’t think we’ll be able to scrub away every single trace…. Perhaps we could roll up the rug and put something else over the spot until we get a new one.”
    “That will be fine,” answered Pastor Gunnar Isaksson.
    “Just leave it, Ann-Gull, my dear,” interrupted Pastor Söderberg, glancing almost imperceptibly at Gunnar Isaksson at the same time. “I’ll deal with all that shortly. Just leave it for now. The police will soon be finished with us, I imagine?”
    This last remark was directed at Anna-Maria and Sven-Erik. When they didn’t reply, Thomas Söderberg gave the woman a smile that seemed to indicate that their conversation was at an end for the time being. She disappeared like a willing handmaiden and went back to the other woman. Soon the vacuum cleaner was droning again.
    The pastors and the detectives sat in silence, staring at one another.
    Typical, thought Anna-Maria angrily. Untreated wooden floor, thick handwoven rug, chairs instead of pews. It all looks lovely, but it’s