‘This is how we will remember Michelle – well-known Swedes saying nice and utterly pointless things?’
‘The night shift in Stockholm is on to that,’ Berit said.
There was a knock on the door. It was the receptionist, loaded down with a huge stack of papers.
‘This came in over the fax,’ she said, staring at the headlines with wide eyes.
Berit relieved her of her burden, closed the door in the receptionist’s curious face, and spread the clippings across the double bed.
‘Schyman wanted us to check these out before we got started,’ she explained.
‘Good grief,’ Annika said. ‘Have we written all that about her?’
‘Where have you been the past few years?’ Berit asked.
‘Stuck in Nappyland,’ Annika retorted, picking up an article.
It was a little over a year old and dealt with the fantastic new contract that Michelle had landed when she switched from the prosaic public service network to the hard-driving commercial cable outfit TV Plus. Michelle was beaming with joy and looked forward to meeting her new colleagues. Her manager, Sebastian Follin, who had negotiated her record-breaking contract, was giving Michelle a hug on the happy picture that illustrated the story.
Annika picked up another clipping at random, a People are Talking segment that had been published when Michelle had remained number one in the ratings for fifteen weeks in a row.
They spread out the clippings; the older stories went on the bedspread, the newer ones were put on the floor, where they were soon soiled by the women’s shoes and bags.
A small info box caught Annika’s attention. Michelle’s entire life was summarized.
Born in Belorussia: mother, Latvian; father, Swedish. She had grown up with her father, an oil driller, until his death, then she had spent some time in foster care. High school in Växjö, then a job as a tourist guide in Jönköping. Likes Japanese food, enjoys a glass of wine, is interested in yoga and water sports. Currently the host of The Women’s Sofa.
‘Did you know that she was an immigrant?’ Annika remarked.
‘Well, I would hardly call her that,’ Berit said. ‘She’s lived in this country since she was three. Pass me that pile, would you?’
Annika passed her the requested pile, made herself comfortable and skimmed through some of the articles. The ones that dated back a year or so seemed, generally, to concern successful ventures, prizes, positions on lists and good-natured gossip. After the network switch, the tone changed. Michelle’s show didn’t do as well as TV Plus had hoped. Anonymous sources from the management level of the network spoke of multimillion kronor losses and ratings that kept plummeting. Suddenly, the star was criticized for every single trait that used to be seen as an asset. Where once she was ‘unaffected’, she was now perceived as being ‘gushing’. The one-time ‘charmer’ changed to ‘silly’, ‘mellow’ became ‘sloppy’. A trade union attacked her for making appearances on radio and TV game shows free of charge. ‘We realize that she doesn’t need the money,’ a union rep acknowledged, ‘but she’s undermining the market for others.’ The next clipping was about a radio station executive who was furious with Michelle for having billed them five hundred kronor for expenses after participating in a show. ‘There’s no end to the greed of some people,’ the executive claimed.
‘No matter what you do, you’re screwed,’ Annika observed.
‘Just wait until you see the columns,’ Berit said.
Columnist Barbara Hanson had devoted miles of paper to the harassment of Michelle Carlsson. Hanson called for Michelle’s resignation, as if she had been appointed to office. The columnist harangued the TV star for committing tax fraud, even though the information was erroneous. She criticized Michelle’s appearance, her diction, her salary, her morals, her capabilities and her relationships.
However, the truly massive onslaught of criticism didn’t start until Michelle hosted an analytical news review, a concept that TV critics found positively ridiculous. When the series was taken off the air after only five shows, the maliciousness took on new heights: ‘Michelle’s Fiasco’ and ‘The fall of the TV Queen’ were some of the headers, and a nice publicity shot of Michelle was captioned, ‘Bad deal for Sweden’. Highlander was quoted as saying that the network regarded Michelle’s contract as a long-term investment that would begin to show results in the appropriate demographics in a few years’ time.
‘This is insane,’ Annika said, resting a stack of papers in her lap. ‘Why have we written so much about this girl?’
Berit shrugged, pushed a few clippings into a pile and sat down on the bed. The articles slid down towards her behind, getting all disorganized.
‘She sold papers. Everyone knew who she was, and at first she didn’t mind getting personal or being controversial. She let us shoot her for the cover of an insert while she was wearing nothing but gold paint. She told the story of how she lost her virginity, talked about a lesbian encounter she’d had in high school, granted an interview at the hospital when she broke her leg – you know, stuff like that.’
‘But it didn’t last,’ Annika observed.
‘No,’ Berit agreed as she rummaged through the faxed material. ‘After a while Michelle started to cause trouble, which naturally made her even more interesting. That was when she started being the favourite celebrity screw-up in the news. Anybody who wanted to beef about Michelle Carlsson got in the headlines, and Michelle was forced to defend herself. I think you’re sitting on one of those articles, there you go …’
Annika pulled out a paper near her knee and skimmed through it. A middle-aged male TV personality from one of the other networks attacked Michelle Carlsson and claimed that she was a flop and a fraud. A million other Swedes could conduct TV interviews as well as Michelle, while no one else could compete with him.
‘What a buffoon,’ Annika said as she studied the picture of the conceited man-with-a-tan.
‘These are the articles she sued us for,’ Berit said, handing over a stack next to the bed. ‘We’d better read them a little more carefully, just so we know what to avoid.’
Annika looked at the world war-like magnitude of the headlines:
‘Michelle Carlsson – a white-collar criminal’ covered the entire front page. The picture accompanying the headline was a passport photo of Michelle Carlsson that must have been nearly ten years old. She had an apprehensive look on her face, she was wearing too much make-up and her dated hairstyle was unflattering. She looks like a carjacker, Annika thought.
The story inside covered eight pages. The piece was written by Carl Wennergren. ‘From celebrated star to white-collar criminal – Michelle moves from the top of the ratings to the courtroom’ was the creative inside headline.
Michelle Carlsson was alleged to be the subject of an investigation involving a shell-company scandal. Her company was one of many that had been bought and sold by a group of corporate raiders that the police had dubbed ‘Sweden’s smartest criminals’. Michelle, it was claimed, had commissioned their services in order to evade taxes. She was supposed to have earned twelve million kronor on the deal and was now being charged with fraud. A police superintendent at the Fraud Squad confirmed the facts in essence, while pointing out that no charges had been brought against the woman who owned the company. However, that was expected to take place before the end of the week.
The next spread was dominated by complicated graphics that illustrated the different transactions and deals. Annika blinked, understanding nearly nothing of what she was reading.
The next spread dealt with the outrage that well-known Swedish figures felt about Michelle Carlsson’s greed, and went on about how a TV star like herself should be a role model. The universal opinion was that even if she didn’t end up being convicted of a crime, it was morally reprehensible to exploit legal loopholes like that.
On the last page, Michelle Carlsson was asked to account for this fraudulent and criminal behaviour. The picture was shot at an angle from below that disto
rted her appearance and made her look grotesque.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Michelle was reported to have said to Kvällspressen’s journalist Carl Wennergren.
His questions made up the bulk of the text and were printed in boldface above the brief replies. Many of the questions had a moralizing tone, such as ‘Do you think it’s right that rich people should break the law to evade taxes?’ Her replies reflected her bewilderment and irritation. Annika doubted that Michelle Carlsson had realized that she would be quoted.
When she was asked ‘What prison would you prefer to do time in?’, the TV star had had enough. She reportedly screamed: ‘This is insane! What the hell is wrong with you?’ The second part of her statement had been used as the header.
‘I’m sorry,’ Annika said, ‘but I seem to have missed this. How did the trial go? Was she convicted?’
Berit sighed heavily.
‘As you can see, Wennergren had a good source when it came to the fraud charges. He even managed to obtain the corporate registration number for several of the companies involved, and that’s where things went wrong.’
‘In what way?’
‘No one knows how it happened, but somehow some of the digits were mixed up.’
Annika closed her eyes.
‘Oh, no …’
‘Oh, yes. Michelle Carlsson wasn’t involved in any corporate raiding scam. Wennergren claims that either the police or the Patent and Registration Office mixed up the digits, and our management chooses to believe him.’
Seeing as she had a lot of faith in police sources, Annika asked: ‘What about the police officer?’
‘No names were mentioned when he and Wennergren discussed the case. There were just references to the female suspect, the owner of the company.’
‘But didn’t he check out her identity?’
‘According to the Patent and Registration Office, the woman’s name was Karlsson, with a “K”, and her initials were M and B. As it turns out, she was just a patsy, some nutcase who agreed to be a figurehead for the raided company in exchange for a bottle of booze.’
‘Holy moley!’ Annika exclaimed. ‘What did the paper do about it?’
‘They offered Michelle the opportunity to write her own account of the events and promised to publish it.’
‘You’re kidding me! But the whole story was inaccurate!’
‘That’s right,’ Berit conceded, ‘but just think of it: if Michelle gave us her account, we’d have another headline. The tax scam in Michelle Carlsson’s own words. We would have been handed an article by Sweden’s biggest celebrity, and anyone who had missed the story the first day would catch it on day two.’
‘I’ve been gone too long,’ Annika observed.
Berit shrugged.
‘Naturally, Michelle refused to give us anything. She demanded that we publish a disclaimer and an apology. Torstensson flatly refused. He had offered her the opportunity to answer in kind, and that was that. She went to the Press Ethics Committee and filed a complaint, but they let us off the hook, amazingly enough.’
‘That’s unbelievable,’ Annika said.
‘Well, consider who’s got the spot as the Press Ethics Arbitrator. He used to host Studio 69, and he’d never pass judgement on a paper for stuff they’d published about a celebrity.’
‘How could we wriggle out of that one?’
‘Because we offered her a chance to be heard. It was her call to refuse to do it. The statement was pretty snidely worded.’
‘So now she’s suing us? Or was suing us, at any rate.’
‘That’s right, and Torstensson could go down.’
Annika quickly skimmed through the other cases. As far as she could tell, they could be found guilty of defamation of character or libel in both instances.
‘We reached a settlement in the case about her mom,’ Berit told her as she scooped up the papers. ‘Now, what was it like over at the castle?’
Annika got up, stretched her legs and flexed her knees cautiously, leaning against the small desk.
‘Unpleasant, of course,’ she said. ‘Kind of nasty at times. Anne Snapphane had her cellphone on and we talked a few times. She’s pretty damn scared.’
‘What about Wennergren?’
Annika pictured the ravaged room and recalled the smell of sulphur in the air.
‘I ran into him in one of the surrounding buildings. He was looking for something, but he wouldn’t tell me what.’
‘Carl’s a strange guy. Did he mention anything at all about what had happened?’
Annika shook her head.
‘I could figure out that there had been a fight. The lounge at the Stables was completely trashed, and it seems that Michelle Carlsson had been getting it on with John Essex.’
Berit tapped her pen against her front teeth.
‘Looking for something, you say … Something large or small?’
Annika mulled this over.
‘Small. He was feeling under a sideboard, and he picked up some small items and looked under them.’
‘A sheet of paper? A pad? Something even smaller? It could be anything. Cigarettes. A lighter. A pocket flask. An item of clothing. An address book. A cellphone. Who trashed the room?’
‘Wennergren said that Sebastian Follin did it, but I’m not sure that’s true.’
Berit got up, shook her head resignedly and headed for the door, holding her pen and her pad.
‘This place doesn’t have an in-house telephone line, so bang on the wall if you need me.’
She left Annika in the cramped room. As soon as she left, the voice returned.
Damn you! A fine mother you are!
Annika unpacked her laptop, looked for a wall socket, found one behind the drapes and turned her computer on, then stared unseeingly at the icons and start-up directions on her Mac.
Well, wasn’t this convenient! I’m never going to forgive you for this.
She went over to her bag, pulled out her cellphone and dialled Thomas’s number. Got the answering machine, so cold and scratchy. She hesitated, then hung up without leaving a message.
Next, Annika put a pillow on the uncomfortable chair by the desk to boost her up a bit and create a better angle for her forearms while she was typing. Then she rested her head in her hands for three seconds before getting to work. The short piece about the castle was the easiest one to do, so she did that first. Then she compiled what she had on the murder – it wasn’t much, but no one else would have more facts. Before she got started on the list of names, she called Anders Schyman.
‘One of them is probably the killer, right?’ he asked.
‘Probably.’
Her supervisor sighed loud enough to be heard in Flen without a telephone.
‘Damn it,’ he said. ‘This is going to require a death-defying tightrope act. And as far as you know, there weren’t any other people out there last night?’
‘Nope.’
‘But someone could have turned up and then left again.’
‘Theoretically speaking, yes.’
‘By car? On a bike? In a balloon?’
‘Yes, or by boat.’
‘By boat! That’s good. Work with that. You could approach the castle by air, by land or by water. Anyone could have killed Michelle.’
‘The companion piece about Yxtaholm describes its location as remote, since the government uses the place for secret negotiations.’
‘Oh, shit!’ Schyman said. ‘Scratch that.’
Annika moaned silently.
‘What do I run with?’ she asked. ‘That final night at the castle? The circle of friends? The witnesses? What am I supposed to call them?’
Her supervisor was silent for a while.
‘What do you think?’
She swallowed, pushed her earpiece more firmly in place and let her fingers roam the keys.
‘Quite a few people were present in the vicinity of Yxtaholm castle during the course of the evening,’ she said tentatively
as she typed the words. ‘Guests from the shows that had been taped, journalists, artists, technicians and engineers, as well as personal friends and colleagues of Michelle Carlsson were there. And according to a police source, anyone could have reached the place during the night and left later on, either by car or by boat.’
‘Is that true?’ Schyman asked.
‘More or less,’ Annika replied and continued: ‘No one is being detained at the castle against their will. The interviews conducted today were voluntary, and the subjects were eager to cooperate with the police in order to facilitate the investigation, according to Police Lieutenant Q. Kvällspressen is able to reveal the names of the eleven individuals who remained at the castle on the morning of Midsummer Eve, the people who were interviewed by the police today. The twelfth member of the party, John Essex, was interviewed elsewhere.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Yup. Then I’ll just list the names. Do we have photos of them all?’
‘Not the girl from Katrineholm – she doesn’t have a driver’s licence or a passport.’
‘She does drive, though,’ Annika said tersely. ‘Have you checked out the school pictures at Duvedholmsskolan?’
‘I’ll check.’
There was a pause. Annika felt her head buzzing with weariness.
‘I saw Wennergren,’ she said and sensed her supervisor’s reaction.
‘Why didn’t you tell me that before?’
Surprise and reproach.
‘Because he refused to talk to me,’ Annika replied, struggling to keep her voice steady. ‘He told me that his story was his. And asked me why he should hand me a front page.’
‘How about because you both work for the same paper?’
Mortified by the way she’d been treated, Annika swallowed hard and felt herself get angry for being so submissive.
‘That’s exactly what I told him.’
This statement was followed by another silence between them.
‘Good job,’ Schyman said eventually. ‘Don’t let Wennergren get you down. You know what he’s like.’
‘So how long does he get to go on being like that?’ Annika said frostily.
The managing editor paused for half a second.
Prime Time Page 10
