Perpetual Peace E-Book

Julia Ågerud

• Herausgeber: Julia Ågerud
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 98

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Perpetual Peace is the second book in the Sleepy Torp series, a captivating Scandinavian detective novel by Julia Ågerud. Born in Ukraine and now living in Sweden, Julia is a mathematician with a love for philosophy, psychology, and gardening.This time, Inspector Benson's boring retirement is interrupted by a strange murder case in Stockholm. And its Christmas time...How does this new case connect to the little street in Torp that readers already know?Perpetual Peace invites you to solve a strange murder while immersing yourself in rich character dialogue. Attentive readers might even uncover the authors hidden messages.Dont miss the next instalment, The Curse of Silence.Each novel in the series stands alone, offering a fresh and unique mystery every time. Pick up the book and enjoy the journey!

Leseprobe

COLOPHON

Perpetual Peace

Julia Ågerud

© 2025 Julia Ågerud

All rights reserved.

Author: Julia Ågerud

Contact Data ([email protected])

Translated from Russian to English by Charlotte Ford, from blarlo.

Original Title: Вечныймир

Original work published: 2022

ISBN: 978-3-69-111480-5

Special thanks to my son and my husband

Perpetual Peace

‘Zum ewigen Frieden … diese satyrische Ueberschrift auf dem Schilde jenes holländischen Gastwirths, worauf ein Kirchhof gemahlt war …’ [1]

Zum ewigen Frieden. Ein philosophischer Entwurf (1795). Immanuel Kant.

Translation: ‘To Perpetual Peace … this satirical inscription was on a Dutch innkeeper’s sign, upon which a burial ground was painted’.

To Perpetual Peace. A Philosophical Sketch (1795). Immanuel Kant.

1 - Sudan. October.

Ali emerged from the pyramid and immediately squinted. ‘The sandstorm seems to be calming down … But only just. Look at the wind, that restless mistress. She’s already adjusted her sand-dune cushions a hundred times’.

He grinned. Covering his nose and mouth with the white fabric of his turban, he rushed to the work tent. As he stumbled over the sand-covered rocks, he swore loudly, ‘And to think there was once life here …’

Before he stepped into the tent, he shook the red dust off his long shirt and ducked down. The young scientist’s height made it difficult for him to enter without hitting his head against the thick tarpaulin.

Once inside, he quickly cleaned himself up and grabbed his mobile phone with wet hands. ‘I have some signal, but it’s weak’. He dialled a familiar number.

‘Hi, old friend! I’m not in Sweden. I’m on a job in Sudan …’, he laughed, ‘Yes, we’re studying pyramids again [2]. It doesn’t seem like I’ll be getting out of here for a while yet … Coronavirus. Hello? Damn connection … I think I found your mother’s stolen item … I’ll email you a photo. I hope this helps find the killer …’

The conversation broke off with these last few words, just as the large shadow of a man in a turban flashed past the tent … Ali cursed, ‘Look, instead of constantly fighting, it would be better for people to set up communications and internet!’ as he threw his phone angrily down on the desk beside an open laptop.

2 - Stockholm. Early December.

The young Inspector Amanda Blum examined the crime scene alongside a group of crime scene investigators.

In a wooded area of the city, the victim’s body lay wrapped in polyethylene on a bed of damp, decaying leaves. The plastic wrapping fluttered in the wind, exposing the dead woman’s face and neck.

Hearing the cough of her approaching boss, Amanda turned around.

Without so much as a hello, Chief Inspector Flood wheezed, ‘Who found the body?’ before struggling to bend over the victim, cursing the ‘corona’ he had just recovered from.

The inspector looked at her boss sympathetically. The fatigue left behind by this serious illness had added at least another 20 years to his 50. She reported, ‘A passerby walking his dog found the body. He’s already being questioned’.

‘And the dead woman’s identity?’ continued Flood, huddling in his long scarf to hide from the wind and the damp December air.

‘Margarita Nilson, 65. Her driving licence and mobile phone were found on her. There’s a bracelet on her wrist. At first glance, it seems expensive – there are diamonds on it. It doesn’t look like a mugging. We’re checking the contact details of her next of kin’, Amanda continued reporting, pleased that she’d got over her bout of coronavirus with barely any symptoms.

‘Ok, deal with this case personally. I’ll be in touch. I need to extend my sick leave by a month’, said the Chief Inspector, breathing heavily as he shuffled into the police car.

‘Understood, boss. It looks like I’ll be spending Christmas at work … Why don’t murderers ever seem to get covid? They’re always on the job’, she muttered, opening a thermos of hot coffee.

3 - Torp. Sunday. Third day of Advent.

Bengt Benson, retired police inspector, was humming an old Christmas song in his kitchen. He lit three Advent candles [3], dancing all the while. Then, he pulled a cooked dinner out of the oven. Bengt opened a bottle of red wine and, pleased with himself, called his wife to the table.

‘When will this “corona monster” finally be done, so we can move to France?’ Anna asked resentfully, sitting at the table, ‘It’s boring for two pensioners to be locked up’.

Benson sighed and looked out the window at the rainy third day of Advent, ‘At least the winter in France isn’t as long as here. Our move has been postponed again’.

He poured wine into the glasses and added, ‘Unfortunately, my dear, almost the whole world is closed. Everyone’s sitting like bees in the winter, in their hives … Even Sweden has finally grown tired of being the exception. At least the bees are making honey, but what about me? You can get dementia from doing nothing …’

A knock at the door surprised them both. Two giants stood on the doorstep: Erik, the inspector’s former assistant, and Fredrik, a private detective from Stockholm. Benson had met the latter before he retired [4].

‘Boss! Shit. I’ll never get used to you not working for the police anymore’, swore Erik. ‘Here’s the thing …So, we decided to come without calling’, and they entered the house, both wet from the rain.

Wordlessly, Anna set another two places at the table. Winking at her husband, she grabbed her plate and headed off into another room with a smile.

Benson shut the door on his understanding spouse and, struggling to contain his joy at seeing his former colleagues, raised his glass, ‘Help yourselves, young men. I can’t wait …’

***

The hungry Erik wolfed down a piece of meat, almost without chewing.

‘Boss, after you left, I took over the investigation department. Someone came to us … Well, you should remember her. Teresa the pensioner. From that same little street in Torp’, he said, looking to Benson pleadingly.

Benson nodded, and it was clear to see that he hadn’t yet grown rusty in his retirement and, at the very least, remembered his last case quite well.

‘So’, continued Erik, quickly chewing, ‘the old lady claims that a diamond brooch was stolen from her’.

‘My friend, a theft is so banal’, sighed a disappointed Benson, taking a gulp of wine. ‘Was it really worth working on a Sunday for that?’

Erik glanced at Fredrik, who was eating his delicious dinner absentmindedly. The detective wiped his mouth with a napkin and chimed in, ‘It’s not that simple, Inspector. Your former mentee ran the stolen brooch through the databases. The item ‘popped up’ in a completely unexpected place …’ Fredrik coughed for some reason and continued in a hoarse voice, ‘At the beginning of December, the Stockholm police found the body of a Margarita Nilson in a wooded area of the city. On the victim’s wrist was a bracelet shaped like an infinity symbol. In each of the ovals of the figure of eight, the infinity symbol, was a brooch identical to the one that was stolen from Teresa’.

Erik stared at Benson hopefully. Benson slowly set his glass down on the table. His maniacal gaze glowed behind the flames of the Advent candles. He made a movement with his hands as if he was knitting, only instead of needles, he used cutlery. Catching the detective’s surprised look, the inspector laid down the knife and fork.

Fredrik gulped down a glass of water and continued in a normal voice, ‘Well, the ex-husband of the dead woman came to my office. He wants us to find the killer as soon as possible. Amanda …’ the detective nervously adjusted his thick, blond mop of hair. ‘So, Inspector Blum from Stockholm gave me Erik’s contact details … We’re working together on this case now. Of course, experts are verifying that the brooch that was stolen from Teresa is the same as one of those found on the bracelet. But I think it’s too much of a coincidence. It’s all so strange …’

Erik didn’t take his eyes off Benson, ‘Boss, we came straight to you. You’re an expert in solving strange, mysterious murders in a week … And no one needs a case left hanging over Christmas’.

Bengt unbuttoned a tight waistcoat and straightened his white shirt. Adjusting the small glasses on his round nose, he switched on the iPad, before spending the next ten minutes jotting down notes. Then, he finished his dinner without saying a word … He wiped his mouth with a napkin, as devils began dancing in his eyes, ‘Friends, we need to sort out my position with the police. Let’s say … as a consultant’.

Erik relaxed back in his chair and stretched his long legs out under the table …

4 - Torp. Monday.

Early in the dark morning, Benson got in his old Volvo and took a slow drive to the familiar street in Torp.

‘Strange … Sara’s house is completely dark’.

He saw the estate agent’s sign: ‘For sale’.

He drove on. The same sign stood outside the garage of the doctors, Helene and Stephan. There was also no light in the windows.

‘It’ll be Christmas soon, but there are no Christmas decorations here … It looks like the inhabitants of both houses have been gone for more than a month.’

He looked around. In the other neighbours’ windows, Advent candles shone. Christmas tinsel twinkled in the gardens.

Reaching the end of the street, he turned around and parked the car by the doctors’ garage. ‘I hope they won’t mind me using their driveway’.

He got out of the car and headed towards Teresa and Klas’s. The pensioners’ garden was right next to Helene and Stephan’s house.

Suddenly, he heard a male voice from behind him, ‘The doctors moved to the US, if you’re looking for them. Real estate isn’t doing so well at the moment, as you can see’.

Benson turned around. ‘That’s right’, he thought. ‘Teresa’s husband, Klas. The pensioner’s complexion has clearly improved – understandable, given the unidentified little ginger dog in a funny knitted jumper at his side. Walking pets does everyone some good’.

Benson greeted him, ‘And what about Sara? Did she move away too? I see her house is also up for sale’.

‘Yeah. She also went to the US, actually. It’s all very suspicious. Don’t you think, Inspector?’

Benson was deliberately silent on the reason for his visit, ‘And what about you and your wife, are you planning to move?’

‘Oh, no’, Klas switched to a whisper, ‘we have a case pending with the police! We’re looking for a thief! Will you come in, Inspector? My wife will be happy to see you’.

***

A few minutes later, Benson was sitting in the pensioners’ cosy living room enjoying a coffee.

‘Inspector’, Teresa addressed Benson out of habit, ‘you have to help us! I went to the police, but I think you’ll find the bad guy faster’. With that, she suddenly turned sharply to her husband, ‘Did you wash his feet?’

Klas and Benson automatically looked down at the inspector’s shoes.

‘I meant the dog. Oh god, Klas! When will you learn to understand me? We’ve been together for so many years … Come here, my boy’.

The pensioner dutifully went to his wife.

‘Not you, I was talking to Charlie!’ Teresa once again snapped angrily, taking the ginger animal in her arms. After making sure her pets’ paws were clean, she looked at the guest calmly and kindly.

Benson lay his hands on his round stomach and, struggling to supress a smile, asked seriously, ‘Tell me everything you both know’.