Still Waters (Sandhamn Murders Book 1) by Viveca Sten Page A

fuck, fuck, thought Jonny Almhult. The persistent knocking on his front door just wouldn’t stop. His head felt like a brick, and he could have used his tongue to sand down his mother’s skiff.
    He was lying on his bed wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Lifting his head from the pillow was agony. He had no idea what time it was. He barely even knew where he was.
    As he reached out and fumbled for the alarm clock, he knocked over a half-full bottle of beer. The yellowish-brown liquid poured out onto the floor and was quickly absorbed by the rug. He swore again and flopped back on the pillow.
    The knocking continued.
    “OK, OK. I’m coming.” The words came out as a croak.
    “Jonny, Jonny.” His mother’s voice penetrated as far as the bedroom. “Are you there, Jonny?”
    “Calm down, Mom. I’m coming.”
    With a groan he sat up, got to his feet unsteadily, and staggered to the door. When he opened it, he was met by his mother’s searching gaze. Unable to stop himself, he ran a hand over his stubble, feeling embarrassed.
    “Why didn’t you open the door? I’ve been knocking forever!”
    Before Jonny had time to respond, she went on. “Do you have any idea what time it is? It’s past two! I don’t know how you can sleep at a time like this. The whole island is in an uproar!”
    Jonny stared at her. He didn’t know what she was talking about. He just wanted to go back to bed.
    Ellen Almhult went on, extremely agitated. “Haven’t you heard? They found another body. A woman, in the Mission House.”
    Jonny swallowed. If only his head hadn’t been pounding like this. He leaned on the doorframe to stop himself from swaying and felt the sweat trickling down the back of his neck.
    “What did she look like?” His voice was rough and hoarse.
    “I had a word with Krystyna, that new woman who took over last spring. She didn’t know what to do with herself.”
    Jonny grabbed his mother’s arm with unexpected strength. “I asked you what she looked like.”
    “Calm down. There’s no need to behave like that. She was nearly fifty; she turned up yesterday afternoon, according to Krystyna. Long blond hair. I suppose she looked like most people.”
    Jonny groaned inwardly. Oh God.
    “Listen, Mom, I’m not feeling too good. I need to go back to bed.”
    “You’re just like your father.” Ellen’s disapproval was clear as she compressed her lips into a thin line.
    Jonny knew that expression well. He had seen it ever since he was a little boy, every time he or his father did something she didn’t like. His father had spent his entire life living in the shadow of her disappointment. A disappointment Jonny couldn’t handle right now.
    “I’ll speak to you later,” he said.
    “I just don’t understand you,” Ellen said. “Not at all.”
    “Please, Mom. I just need to be left in peace for a while.”
    “Alcohol will be the death of you, you know.” She pointed a finger at him. He saw her lips begin to move and braced himself for the stream of words that he knew was bound to come.
    Suddenly he couldn’t bear it any longer. “I asked you to leave. I’ll talk to you later.”
    He practically pushed her out and closed the door.
    Jonny slumped to the floor. He could smell and taste his own breath. Rancid, stale beer. Too many cigarettes. The clump of fear stuck in his throat. His tongue felt like a swollen mass in his mouth. He needed a drink to calm him down and help him gather his thoughts.
    He went into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and took out a beer. Standing by the sink, he knocked back the whole can and then grimaced as he dropped it in the trash. He tried hard to remember last night. The images were vague and unclear.
    He had met that woman in the bar. They’d had a few beers together after he’d sat down at her table. After a while, he asked if she wanted to come back with him for a couple of drinks. They picked up their jackets and paid. The sun had gone down, but it wasn’t really