Missing in Malmö: The third Inspector Anita Sundström mystery (Inspector Anita Sundström mysteries) (33 page)

‘Where do we go from here?’ Hakim asked.

A very good question. ‘We can look more into Carol Johansson. I doubt it’ll throw up much but I think we have to go through the motions. Kevin Ash is visiting the last member of Pew’s gang in prison tomorrow. I can’t see that shedding much light. He’s been in there since being found in Australia back in the 1990s. Must be due for release soon, I would have thought. If he’d been in Sweden, he’d have been out ages ago.’

‘I’ve got an angle that I think is worth pursuing,’ said Hakim before draining his coffee.

‘OK, you’ve got a free hand. But first, I want you to go through everything that you were involved in while working with Nordlund on Greta Jansson.’

Hakim gave her a quizzical look. ‘Isn’t all that being handled by Moberg and Larsson?’

‘I want to make sure that they haven’t missed anything. Even if it turns out his murder was a random attack, Henrik was still onto something. I have to find out what.’

Anita spent the rest of the morning going through the information that Hakim had supplied her with. He had explained how he and Westermark had divided up the CCTV footage of the various bars in and around Lilla Torg – they had also double-checked, by physically going to each one with a photo of Greta Jansson. Nothing had turned up, despite the fact that Greta’s friend Ulrika Lindén was sure she was already in a bar in that area when she called to cancel their get-together. Westermark had gone into Greta’s call log and Hakim had been sent to interview Fraser’s and Holm’s colleagues.

Anita had also slipped into Nordlund’s office and managed to get hold of the recording of his interview with Björn. That had been a sad moment as she reflected on the number of times she had been there and asked for guidance, or just for some sanctuary when things were getting on top of her. There was a photo of his wife, Hannah, on his desk. Everything neat and tidy, just as he had been. In time, they would have to clear out all his possessions and pass them on to his nephew, who was acting for the family. Anita would take it on herself to sort out the office, but not just yet. She looked through his drawers. There was nothing that seemed particularly relevant to the case. Maybe there was something at home, so she would have to visit his apartment. She then went to the operations room. Westermark was already in there. He was taking the photos of Greta Jansson off the wall.

‘Is the case closed then?’ she asked in surprise.

He smirked. ‘Oh, yes. Blom has already been in court and we’ve got your husband for the next two weeks. Moberg and she are now convinced that Nordlund’s murder had nothing to do with the Greta Jansson case. Silly old bugger shouldn’t have been out in the park. You get all sorts of weirdos hanging around these places at night. We’ll nail it on one of the usual suspects soon enough.’

‘You think that’s what happened?’

‘Why not?’ He couldn’t resist a condescending grin. ‘Your conspiracy theory about Nordlund having some doubts about the Jansson case seems to be just that – a theory. Your professor murdered Greta Jansson, no question.’

Anita left before she let him really wind her up, but not before she had squirrelled a mug shot of Greta Jansson into her bag.

She looked in on Hakim, who seemed absorbed in his internet research, to tell him that she was going to work from home for the rest of the day. It would be easier to think clearly away from the bedlam of headquarters. If Hakim did find anything interesting he was to get in touch – and if Moberg wondered where she was, he was to say that she was following up a lead. She suggested he keep it vague.

Listening to the recording didn’t do anything to help get into Nordlund’s head. It was a typical Nordlund-Westermark interview. Nordlund quietly trying to get to the nub of the matter, while Westermark blustered, threatened and sneered in equal measure. Björn had held his own, but the more information he revealed, the more it seemed to confirm his guilt. The fact remained that he had lied to her right from the beginning, both about his relationship with Greta and his movements around the time that she disappeared.

After another coffee and an over-ripe banana she found hiding at the bottom of the fruit bowl, she played the tape through again. And again she gleaned nothing, other than Björn appearing even more culpable. The only question that wasn’t answered satisfactorily was the anomaly of the fingerprints. However, she had seen Prosecutor Blom in action in court and she would put up a convincing argument as to why there seemed to be a discrepancy. The rest of the evidence seemed so overwhelming that the fingerprints might not even become an issue. They proved Björn had been in the apartment, which he had reluctantly admitted to. Whatever had worried Nordlund was more subtle, more imperceptible than Anita could discern in the clear-cut conversation of the recording. Maybe it was something that Nordlund had seen during the interview that had raised his doubts. She wouldn’t even bother to attempt to get anything out of Westermark, who wouldn’t make any effort to co-operate. And why should he? He had stolen the case – and the subsequent glory – from under Nordlund’s nose. And she didn’t want to approach Björn’s lawyer as that would immediately get back to Moberg and ructions would inevitably follow. This was not
her
case. The only person she could talk to who was in that room was Björn.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. The last time she had been in this miserable room, deep inside Kirseberg prison, was to see Ewan. It had been their final meeting. Now it was the other man in her life that was brought into the room and plonked down in the chair opposite her. The shock this time was Björn’s attire. The white t-shirt and faded, blue jeans was a dramatic sartorial change from his regulation black. He was pale and drawn, and confusion and fear were etched equally on his face. Anita didn’t know whether to feel pity or anger.

‘Hello, Björn,’ she said after the guard had left the room.

‘Is this another interrogation? It’s a dangerous business talking to me. The last one who did is now dead, I understand.’

‘This is no time for any of your flippant remarks, Björn,’ Anita snapped angrily. ‘Whether you’re a murderer or not, this case is responsible for the death of Henrik Nordlund. He was a good man who didn’t deserve to die. So I’m not taking any shit from you. You either answer my questions or I’ll leave you here to rot.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said contritely. ‘How’s Lasse?’

‘Bearing up. He’s got a new girlfriend to take his mind off things.’

Björn beamed. ‘Chip off the old block.’

‘I bloody hope not. Now, I need to know one or two things. Like why did you lie to me about your movements? You didn’t tell me you went into Greta Jansson’s apartment on three separate occasions.’

‘I didn’t think you’d look for her if I told you the full truth. I was desperate.’

Anita took out her tin of snus. She didn’t offer it to Björn. ‘The trouble is that it makes you look guilty. You were with her the night she died.’

‘We argued. She threw me out. Then, when she wasn’t around the next day, I started to worry.’

‘The neighbour’s key. That was another thing you failed to mention.’

‘When she still wasn’t around a week later, I really panicked. You were the only person I could turn to. The only person I could trust.’

I was convenient is what you mean, Anita thought ruefully. ‘All right. I want you think very carefully about each visit you made and where exactly you went when you were inside the apartment. Your exact movements in each room.’

She knew this shouldn’t be a difficult task for Björn, who had always been a clear thinker.

‘The first time,’ he said contemplatively, ‘I just went into the living room. That’s where we had our confrontation.’

‘Not the bedroom?’

‘That’s where I was hoping to end up. Greta had other ideas,’ he said with a regretful grimace. ‘So, no to the bedroom. Obviously, I was in the hallway when I came in and went out.’

‘OK. You went back the next day when you pretended to be her dad.’

‘Yes. Shows I can think on my feet.’ He’s had a lot of practice at that, Anita reflected bitterly. ‘That time I went into nearly every room. Living room, kitchen, bathroom... and I glanced into the bedroom.’

‘Can you remember what you touched?’

‘Nothing much. Opened the fridge. Went into the bathroom and had a pee. Noticed her toothpaste was gone. That made me think I might have frightened her away. Maybe touched some of the books in the living room. Two were mine, anyway!’

‘What about the bedroom?’

‘Why the obsession with the bedroom?’

‘Just answer,’ she snapped.

‘Nothing, really. I didn’t lie on the bed and pine if that’s what you’re after. I just looked through the door.’

‘Was the bed made?’

Björn looked pensive. ‘It was, actually. Fresh sheets. She mustn’t have had a chance to sleep in them.’ The last words caught in his throat and she could see his eyes starting to well up. She knew he would fight any display of emotion. It was the Swedish way.

‘And your last visit?’

He was back in control of himself. ‘I was only in there a few minutes. I could see that nothing had changed and that Greta hadn’t been back. I realized she had disappeared, so I came to you.’

Anita took out a notebook and scribbled a few lines.

‘Did you make a call to the school to say that Greta wouldn’t be going back?’

‘Of course not. Why should I?’

‘My colleagues think you did. Unluckily for you, it tied in with your stupid tale about being Greta’s father.’

Björn sighed despondently.

‘One last thing. You mentioned that Greta talked about a new man in her life. Any ideas who it was?’

‘To be honest, at the time I assumed she was just making it up to get me out of the apartment. But the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’m convinced there was someone. If there was, he must have been pretty new on the scene; she hadn’t been down here that long.’

‘Her colleagues talked about her getting away from someone, presumably you, but no mention of a new man. She may have kept it quiet, though.’

‘She may only just have met him. And another thing, she wasn’t a great drinker, which was why I was surprised that she seemed pissed when I saw her at the apartment. I think she’d been with someone earlier that evening. Perhaps he came back after I’d left.’

‘There’s nothing on her mobile call log to suggest she rang anyone after you’d gone.’

‘Maybe the bastard just turned up.’

Anita wasn’t listening. She’d just had an uncomfortable thought.

CHAPTER 46

Anita had another bad night, yet she was in a determined mood when she entered the main door of the polishus at seven o’clock the next morning. Her mind had been racing as she had tossed and turned. A herbal tea at half past two hadn’t helped. It was while she was in the shower that something Björn had said came back to her. She had listened to the interview yet again. Now she knew what Nordlund had heard. Now she had a clear idea of what action she was going to take.

Headquarters was already busy. A suspect had been hauled in during the early hours of the morning. Sejad Medunjanin was well known to the Skåne County Police as a serial thief and drug dealer with a history of GBH. A knife was his chosen weapon; it didn’t make a noise. He had spent more time behind bars than on the streets. He wasn’t the only suspect to be brought in for questioning, and it was taking a lot of manpower to check out the growing list of alibis. Commissioner Dahlbeck was no longer that worried about a dead British visitor when it looked far worse that one of his own officers should be murdered in a place used for family outings and relaxation. This suited Anita, as she was mystified as to what to do next in the Todd case. She was more concerned about finding out what her old friend and colleague had discovered; she was now convinced that Nordlund had been on the verge of solving the Greta Jansson murder.

By the time Hakim came in just after eight, Anita was engrossed in some notes she had found in Nordlund’s file. She had also compiled some of her own. Hakim immediately knew it was nothing to do with their own case. But she was his superior so it wasn’t his place to question her, and he knew her well enough to trust that she knew what she was doing. However, he felt that they mustn’t give up so easily on the Todd investigation. Here was a chance for him to shine. Help to solve the case, and he would leave Malmö on a high. It would make it easier for him to be accepted in Gothenburg when he started there after Christmas.

‘Anita, can I borrow your car today?’

She gave him a quizzical glance. ‘Yeah. Where are you going?’

‘I thought I’d go back out and nosy round the Johanssons’. Just ask around. I assume they’re still officially on the radar?’

‘Yes. But why the interest?’

‘I did some digging, and discovered that Peter Johansson is quite a rich guy.’

‘Well, admittedly, it looked a nice house, but nothing out of the ordinary.’

‘Did you know that he owns all the houses around theirs as well?’

‘I thought she said— ‘

‘I know – “Stockholmers and Germans”. She lied. They also have a fancy apartment in Gamla Stan in Stockholm.’

‘Do you know what he made his money in?’

‘Property in New Zealand.’

‘It just sounds as though he’s doing the same over here.’

‘Well, we’ve nothing to lose. And I’m expecting a call or email soon from New Zealand about something else.’

‘What time is it over there?’

‘Ten hours ahead, but the person I’ve been talking to is doing me a favour. She sounded nice.’ He smiled at the recollection.

‘Whatever. I’m going out and won’t be around for a few hours.’ Anita shoved some papers into her bag. ‘Keep a low profile. We don’t want a police harassment charge on top of everything else.’ She gazed at him fondly for a moment then said brusquely, ‘Just don’t do anything stupid.’

‘Are you sure? Are you
really
sure? You’re not pulling my plonker?’

‘Oh, yes. I’m sure.’

Kevin Ash was sitting in a large, deserted hall, lined with tables and chairs. It was where the inmates of HM Prison Doncaster received visitors, if they had any. The only two other occupants were a large, unsmiling prison warder hovering near the entrance, and the shaven-headed George Dobson sitting opposite Ash. The purpose-built prison on the site of the old power station in Marshgate was the most modern one Ash had visited.