In Bad Company (Sandhamn Murders)

by Viveca Sten

  Leila stood up. “See you tomorrow,” she said as she left the room.

  CHAPTER 9

  There was a gentle tap on the door of Mina’s room.

  “Come in.”

  Mina had been dozing, but she propped herself up on her elbows as the door opened. She didn’t recognize the elderly woman who came in. It was difficult to make out her features in the semidarkness, but she was wearing a Red Cross badge on her sweater.

  “Hi—my name is Irene. I’m a volunteer at the hospital, and I just wanted to check if there’s anything I can do for you.”

  Mina was confused. What did she mean?

  “We can have a little chat if you like,” Irene continued. “Or I can sit here for a while if you’re feeling lonely?”

  To her own surprise, Mina nodded, even though the woman was a total stranger.

  Irene peeped into Lukas’s crib. He was lying on his back, full and contented, completely absorbed by a mobile one of the nurses had hung up for him.

  “What a sweetheart! How old is he?”

  “Three months.”

  “He’s doing really well.”

  Mina couldn’t hide a proud smile.

  “And how are you?” Irene went on. “Are you OK?”

  The smile disappeared. “Not exactly,” she whispered. She was so embarrassed by her appearance; it was obvious she’d taken a beating.

  Irene didn’t seem to mind at all. “I’m happy to listen if you want to talk,” she said. “I’m in no hurry, and sometimes it’s nice not to be left alone with your thoughts.”

  She pulled up a chair and sat down by the bed. There was something about her that made Mina feel calm. Her white hair was secured by a barrette at the back of her neck; she reminded Mina of one of her elementary school teachers that she’d always liked.

  Irene was wearing a gold ring with an ornate floral pattern on the third finger of her left hand. “What a beautiful ring,” Mina said.

  “Thank you. I never take it off. My husband gave it to me just before he died.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

  “It’s fine. He passed away several years ago.” Silence fell, but Irene was still smiling, as if it didn’t bother her at all.

  “Do you miss him?” Mina asked after a while.

  “Every day, but he was very ill at the end, so it was a relief in a way.”

  Irene’s tone made Mina feel she could ask another question. “Did you love each other?”

  “Very much. We were married for almost fifty years. We met when we were twenty-one—it was love at first sight.”

  “I was twenty-one when I got together with Andreis. That was love at first sight, too.”

  “How did you meet?”

  “In a bar in the city. I saw him as soon as I walked in.”

  Andreis had been leaning on the counter with a beer in his hand when Mina arrived with a girlfriend. His dark eyes and muscular arms had drawn her to him. She hadn’t been able to stop wondering what it would feel like to have those arms around her. He was the best-looking guy she’d ever seen.

  There was no doubt that he was the center of his circle of friends. When he cracked a joke, everyone laughed. It was as if they were all competing for his attention.

  When Mina and Andreis eventually got together, she had loved his self-assurance, his conviction that the world revolved around him.

  “How old are you now?” Irene asked.

  “Twenty-five.”

  “You’re so young.” Irene patted her hand. She didn’t know how wrong she was; Mina had never felt older. Where had that girl with the long blond hair gone? The girl who had been so much in love with Andreis that she’d trembled with happiness whenever he touched her.

  “Did you and your husband ever quarrel?” she said, unconsciously touching the dressing on her eyebrow.

  “You can’t always agree in a long marriage, but we were usually on the same page.”

  “We didn’t quarrel either, not at first.”

  “Would you like to talk about your husband?” Irene said gently, her ring glinting as she clasped her hands.

  Mina looked over at the window. The darkness outside was impenetrable; her room was on the top floor. She had stood there, gazing out, earlier in the day, thinking that death would be instantaneous if she leaned too far and fell.

  “It was like a fairy tale to begin with,” she said without meeting Irene’s gaze. “We moved in together after a few weeks, and married within six months.”

  She had been thrilled when Andreis proposed, floated on fluffy pink clouds on her wedding day. Giving up her old friends and the almost daily contact with her parents had been no sacrifice; it was wonderful that Andreis wanted her all to himself whenever he was free.

  They’d done everything together, enclosed in their own bubble.

  “We really were happy,” Mina whispered. “Andreis spoiled me—he often came home with beautiful presents. It sounds like a cliché, but he gave me everything I wanted.”

  “That must have been wonderful.”

  “He was . . . is . . . wonderful.”

  Nobody could be as attentive as Andreis; nobody could make her feel so loved. His smile was irresistible.

  “What happened yesterday wasn’t like him at all. He didn’t mean to hurt me.” Mina ran a hand over her forehead. “He loves me, I know he does.”

  “And do you still love him?” Irene’s eyes were full of sympathy; there was no judgment in her words.

  Mina hadn’t dared to ask herself that question, because she was afraid to hear the answer. She could see her reflection in the window, the swollen cheek, the split lip. As soon as she moved, everything hurt.

  Lukas gurgled in his crib.

  “I don’t know,” Mina said quietly.

  Bosnia, March 1992

  Andreis was woken by someone gently shaking him. When he opened his eyes, Aunt Blanka was perched on the side of his bed. She was his mother’s best friend, married to his father’s cousin—a big, cheerful woman who lived next door.

  “Wake up, Andreis!” she said. “Something fantastic has happened!”

  Andreis squeezed his eyes shut. He would rather go back to sleep in his soft, warm bed.

  “You have a baby brother,” Blanka informed him.

  Andreis knew that the baby in his mother’s tummy had been ready to come out. A week or so ago a crib had appeared in his room, even though there wasn’t really enough space. Now there was just a narrow passageway between the crib and his bed, but his mother had explained that from now on he would be sharing his room with the new baby.

  Blanka took his hand. “Come with me.”

  She led him into the kitchen, where his mother was sitting on a chair with a bundle in her arms. It was whimpering, a bit like a newborn puppy. When he moved closer, he saw a tiny face with red marks on its cheeks and forehead peering out from the blanket.

  “Come and say hello to your new brother.” His mother seemed tired, but she was smiling at Andreis. She held out the baby so that Andreis could see him better. Andreis didn’t really know what to do, but he edged forward.

  “It’s OK, Andreis. You can touch him if you like.”

  Andreis reached out and gently stroked the baby’s head. He had black tousled hair, just like Dad, but his eyes were closed, so Andreis couldn’t see the color.

  “You have to take care of him from now on,” his mother said. “Big brothers always take care of their little brothers.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Emir.”

  The front door opened and his father joined them in the kitchen.

  “What do you think of your new brother?” he asked with a proud smile. He was holding a half-full bottle in his hand. He went over to the counter and fetched a glass, which he filled to the brim. “Here’s to my son!” he exclaimed, knocking back the contents of the glass.

  His mother’s face stiffened. She looked at Blanka.

  “Zlatko, I think Selma needs to get some rest,”
Blanka said.

  Andreis’s father didn’t seem to hear her. He had already poured himself another drink, and raised his glass to his family.

  “Time to celebrate!” he said.

  Wednesday

  CHAPTER 10

  The tiredness crept up on Thomas as soon as he swiped his pass card to enter the police station in Flemingsberg. He plodded up the stairs to the seventh floor and the Serious Crimes Unit.

  He would much rather have been on board a boat in the archipelago. He’d worked as a maritime police officer before transferring to Nacka, and in many ways it had been the best time of his career. At sea he had felt confident, and had instinctively found the right solutions. Even when dealing with taxing issues, such as the transportation of a body or a serious collision, he had had no difficulty staying focused.

  He had rarely lain awake at night, as he often did now. Somehow any negative thoughts had been blown away as he set his course for home. The archipelago had enabled him to breathe more easily, even when things were at their worst. If it hadn’t been for Elin, he would have considered living on Harö all year round.

  He ran his hands through his damp hair and opened his office door. Yesterday had been glorious; today it was pouring rain. Typical spring weather in Stockholm.

  There was no point in wallowing in old memories.

  He hung up his jacket and went in search of coffee; he needed caffeine. In order to be in Flemingsberg before eight, he had to get up by six at the latest. Last night he hadn’t gotten to sleep until after two; he’d spent half the night lying there, brooding.

  Aram Gorgis, his partner for many years, was already sipping from his first cup of the day as he flicked through the folder containing new cases. He raised a hand in greeting when he saw Thomas. Aram looked fresh and well rested.

  Thomas pressed the button for a large cup of coffee. Extra strong, even though he actually preferred tea.

  Margit Grankvist appeared, making a beeline for the coffee machine. Another colleague who was finding life difficult.

  Margit had been acting head of the department for almost two years, even though she was clearly the best-qualified person for the role of head of the Serious Crimes Unit within the new organization. If she wasn’t appointed soon, she was likely to resign out of sheer frustration.

  She wouldn’t be the first.

  “I heard that your friend Nora Linde has taken over a case from Erik Sandberg,” she said as she also pressed the button for extrastrong coffee.

  There were no secrets around here. Thomas gave her a quick summary of the conversation he’d had with Nora the previous day.

  “Don’t forget to log anything that might impact the case,” she said, taking her cup. Thomas gave her a look; why did she need to say that? Then he realized she was just being kind. The way things were now, everyone was monitored at all times, and the formalities had assumed a disproportionate significance. In an uneasy, stressed environment, the rules were applied with increased rigor, even though this intensified the negative atmosphere. The sense of a lack of faith in leadership was growing with each passing day, while at the same time the media trumpeted the public’s diminishing confidence in the police.

  “Thanks for the reminder,” he said without a hint of sarcasm, and headed back to his office.

  He must call Pernilla later, make one last attempt to agree on the arrangement for summer vacation. He’d put it off for too long. The thought didn’t improve his mood.

  CHAPTER 11

  Leila was waiting for Nora by the reception desk at the Southern District Hospital, her long black braid draped over one shoulder, skinny jeans tucked into her leather boots. She waved to Nora.

  “It’s ward fifty-five.” Leila set off toward the elevators, heels tapping on the tiled floor. “You do know she has no intention of cooperating with us,” she went on. “She’s not going to report him, and she’s not going to leave him. This is a waste of time.”

  Leila rarely expressed herself so forcefully, but Nora decided to let it go.

  A stressed nurse pointed them in the right direction. “She has her own room,” she said. “Because of the baby.”

  Leila pushed open the door of a room with white walls and a depressing gray floor. Mina was lying on her back with her eyes closed. Nora inhaled sharply when she saw the young woman’s bruised and battered face. A white dressing covered one cheek, and Mina was on a drip.

  I could have prevented this, Nora thought.

  A man and a woman with gray hair were sitting at the far side of the bed, lines of worry etched into their faces. These must be Mina’s parents, Stefan and Katrin. There was no mistaking her resemblance to her mother, in spite of Mina’s injuries.

  A small crib on wheels stood beside Mina; her baby was sleeping peacefully beneath a pale-lemon blanket.

  Nora introduced herself and Leila and explained that they were from the Economic Crimes Authority, but had also taken over the assault case, and therefore needed to ask a few questions.

  “How are you doing?” she said to Mina. “Do you feel able to talk to us for a little while?”

  No response.

  “Who did this to you?” Leila asked.

  Mina shook her head.

  It seemed incomprehensible that she was still protecting her husband, but Nora knew this wasn’t uncommon. She was reacting in exactly the same way as many other women in her situation. Before long she would ask to go home, and on the way she would convince herself that what had happened wasn’t too bad. That this was the last time—her husband would never hit her again. From now on, everything was going to be fine.

  Stefan laid a hand on his daughter’s arm. “You need to talk to the police, darling.”

  “Please, Mina,” her mother said. “You can’t stay with Andreis.”

  “We can help you,” Nora assured the young woman. “We can move you into a shelter where he won’t be able to find you.”

  Mina turned her face away. Nora knew it wouldn’t be easy to persuade her, but without her cooperation there was no point in asking for Andreis to be arrested, and he could be held for questioning for only three days.

  “Andreis will be released on Thursday if you don’t change your statement,” she went on. “In twenty-four hours he’ll be back at home, and it starts all over again.”

  Had Mina gone paler? It was hard to tell, with all the bruises and the dressings.

  “Think about Lukas,” Katrin said. “This can’t go on.”

  “I tripped,” Mina mumbled. “I’m so clumsy.”

  Nora tried to hide her frustration; Leila had warned her that this would happen. They had to get Mina to change her mind before Kovač was released. As soon as he was out he would come to see her, beg for forgiveness, and try to put everything right. Had he already called her? Nora had no doubt that Mina would go with him if he promised never to hurt her again. She would talk herself into believing him, and things would be better for a while—until the next time.

  There was always a next time.

  “I tripped,” Mina repeated.

  “You do realize he’s going to kill you in the end?” Leila said sharply.

  Mina’s eyes filled with tears, and she clenched her fists on top of the covers. “I can’t talk to you. Please go. Leave me alone.”

  Leila moved closer to the bed. “You have to listen to us—for your own sake. You think he’s sorry, don’t you? That deep down he loves you. He didn’t mean it, not really. You’ve come up with a whole list of excuses for his behavior. He’s stressed about the upcoming trial, he was damaged by the flight from Bosnia when he was a little boy, by all the terrible memories he carries with him.”

  Mina tried to sit up, but grimaced with pain and fell back against the pillows.

  “This is mainly your fault, isn’t it?” Leila continued. “If only you made more of an effort, he wouldn’t need to get so angry. If only you could stop annoying him, stop making so many mistakes. If only you loved him a little more, everything would
be fine. But men who love women don’t hit them, Mina. That’s not how it works.”

  Nora didn’t know Leila particularly well, even though they had collaborated on a number of cases over the past few years. Leila wasn’t particularly forthcoming about her private life, but Nora knew her family had fled to Sweden from Iran toward the end of the 1980s, when Leila was only four. The details were unclear; her parents had divorced a couple of years later. The only personal item on Leila’s desk was a photograph of a dog, a Newfoundland by the name of Bamse. He was the apple of Leila’s eye, weighing in at 154 pounds.

  “Next time he’ll kill you,” Leila said, softening her tone. “You have to believe me—for your own sake and for your child.”

  Tears were pouring down Mina’s face.

  “Listen to her,” Stefan said hoarsely. “She’s a police officer, she knows what she’s talking about.” He turned to Leila and Nora. “Can you protect her? He’s a terrible person, dangerous and ruthless.” Mina tried to protest, but Stefan was having none of it. “You know I’m right! Don’t defend him!” He slammed the palm of his hand down on his leg. “For God’s sake, Mina, look at the shape you’re in! She’s right—next time he’ll kill you!”

  Katrin was beginning to look distressed. “Please, Stefan—I don’t want the two of you to argue!”

  Nora held up her hand. The situation was getting out of control. If they could get Mina to a place where Kovač couldn’t reach her, then maybe she’d feel safer. Safe enough to cooperate. “We can move you and your son to a shelter. No one will know you’re there. I’ve already contacted a place on an island in the archipelago; they can take you tomorrow. It’s in a beautiful spot. It’s almost like a summer cottage. I’m sure you’d feel at home there.”

  Leila gently placed a hand on Mina’s shoulder. “You don’t need to be afraid that your husband will harass you. We’ll keep him away, I promise.”

  “Leila can go with you if you like,” Nora offered.

  A few seconds passed. Both parents gazed pleadingly at Mina. Katrin let out a sob; her breathing was labored. Maybe it was her mother’s reaction that tipped the balance for Mina.