Växjö’s silent aria - Part 01 #novelette by Thanos Kalamidas

The shrill ring of the telephone jolted them both awake hours later. Mikael reached for it, his brow furrowing as he listened. Alma sat up, dread creeping into her chest.

“Alright, I’m on my way,” Mikael said, hanging up.

“What is it?” Alma asked, though the look on his face told her everything.

“It’s Anna. She’s…dead.” He said quietly.

"Dead?" Alma's voice cracked. "How? What happened?"

Mikael shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "They found her this morning; I don’t know much... Murdered..." Mikael's voice was rough, strained

Alma's breath hitched. " Murdered? By who?"

"I need to go, Alma."

"Of course," Alma whispered, reaching for his hand.

He turned and rushed out the door, leaving Alma alone in the quiet apartment, the weight of the news settling heavily on her chest. Anna, vibrant, full of life, gone. It seemed impossible.

As the hours passed, Alma tried to distract herself, but the image of Anna, lying lifeless in the park, kept intruding on her thoughts. Who would do such a thing? And why? Fear mingled with grief, a chilling reminder of the fragility of life and the darkness that lurked just beneath the surface of their seemingly peaceful world.

*  *  *  *  *

The Elite Stadshotellet was eerily quiet as Mikael arrived. A uniformed officer led him to Anna’s room, where the door stood ajar, a policeman guarding outside the room. Inside, the scene was chilling: the once-cosy room now felt cold and sterile under the harsh glow of forensic lamps.

Anna lay on the bed, her lifeless body arranged unnaturally. The bruising around her neck and the indentation of a scarf told the grim story. A smashed wine bottle lay near the bed, the shards glinting like cruel stars. On the desk, a single note rested, the words scrawled in an unsteady hand: “Meet me at midnight.”

“Strangulation,” the medical examiner who had arrived minutes before Mikael muttered. “Judging by the bruising, the killer used gloves. No fingerprints yet.”

Mikael’s eyes scanned the room, noting the lipstick-stained glass and the torn scarf on the floor. Something about the scene felt staged, as though the killer wanted to send a message.

“Who found her?” he asked.

“Housekeeping. Came in this morning when she didn’t answer her wake-up call.” Mikael felt a bit lost between the dead body and the fact that he actually knew the victim.

Having left in a hurry, Mikael had to return home and change before heading for his office. He found Alma sat at the kitchen table, staring into her coffee cup and it was the way she looked at him that somehow made him recount the details of what he had seen.

“Strangled? In her hotel room?” Alma whispered, her voice trembling.

“Whoever did this wanted to make it personal,” Mikael said. “The scarf… the note... It wasn’t random.”

Alma hesitated before speaking. “Mikael, there’s something you should know. Anna mentioned Magnus last night. She said he was the reason for all her troubles, but she didn’t go into detail. Do you think...?”

“Magnus Ekström? Her ex...?” Mikael interrupted, scribbling the name in his notebook. “What do you know about him?”

“He was manipulative, controlling. She always said he destroyed her, financially and emotionally. But she also had a way of attracting trouble. There were younger men, flings, and her drinking… It was a lot.”

Mikael leaned back, considering the implications. “If Magnus was still in her life, even indirectly, he’ll have some questions to answer.”

Soon after Mikael was back at the station, piecing together the fragments of Anna’s life. A search of her financial records revealed large cash withdrawals in the weeks leading up to her death, raising suspicions of blackmail. Phone records showed multiple calls to an unregistered number, and a name began to surface in whispers among the team: Emil Nyström, a young aspiring singer who had been seen with Anna at the hotel bar.

Mikael’s instincts told him this case was just beginning, and the deeper he dug, the more tangled the threads became.

As night fell over Växjö, Alma sat alone in her living room, the weight of Anna’s death pressing down on her. The echoes of their last conversation replayed in her mind, fragments of Anna’s cryptic words forming a haunting melody.

In the shadows of her home, Alma whispered to the emptiness, “What were you trying to tell me, Anna?”