by Karin Nordin
Vidar laughed and then spat up another wad of yellow phlegm on the tarmac. ‘Just having a chat! It’s never just having a chat with you. It’s always “tell me what I want to know before I slam your face into the pavement.”’
‘I don’t think we need to resort to that, do you?’
Vidar waved a dismissive hand at Kjeld and started back towards the warehouse so as to get out of the rain. ‘Just ask me whatever it is you’ve come to ask and get the fuck out of here before someone sees you. I swear to God, giving you some low-key gang gossip on a couple of occasions does not give you the right to roll up on me at my place of business.’
Kjeld followed after him, keeping a close eye on their surroundings to ensure they weren’t being watched. For all of Vidar’s yammering and complaints, he had a point. Being seen with him wasn’t exactly good for the drug business. And even though Kjeld didn’t know all of the ins and outs of Portside’s management, it wasn’t much of a stretch to assume the owners were involved in something illegal. Vidar’s presence there was proof enough of that.
‘I’m here about Jonny Lindh.’
‘Jonny who?’
Kjeld took out his mobile phone and pulled up the photo of Jonny.
Vidar pursed his lips and rolled his head to the side, uninterested. ‘Okay, yeah. I’ve seen that guy around. What about him?’
‘When was the last time you saw him?’
‘Why? He do something naughty? Did he sell some weed to a few kids? Look, if you’re trying to follow a drug trail back to me, you can forget about it. Once it’s out of my hands, it’s out of my hands. I’m not responsible for who shares what with who or anything that goes down. It’s a free market, you see.’
‘This isn’t drugs, Vidar. It’s homicide.’
Vidar double blinked. ‘Jonny’s dead?’
‘He downed a punch bowl full of antifreeze.’
Vidar gagged. ‘Jesus Christ. I didn’t give him antifreeze, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘I know you didn’t. But I need to know what you did give him and when you saw him last.’
Vidar shook his head. ‘Fuck, man. I don’t know. I gave him some pills, a bit of coke. Maybe some acid. Not much, just whatever I had on me. The guy was having a rough day. He was looking for something to chase away the demons. You know. So I gave him a cocktail of the good stuff. For a bargain, too, I might add.’
‘When was this?’ Kjeld asked.
‘A week ago, maybe? It’s not like I have a personal assistant keeping track for me.’
‘Was he one of your regulars?’
Vidar frowned. Above them the rain clattered against the metal roof, scaring a group of huddled pigeons into a corner of the rafters.
‘Was he?’ Kjeld pressed.
‘He used to be. You know the kid’s story. He was a fucking mess. I don’t think he worked a single day sober. Then one day he just left.’
‘Where’d he go?’
Vidar smirked. A lightbulb seemed to go off in his mind. ‘Ah, that’s what you’re interested in. Well, let me tell you, that is a very interesting twist to the story.’
‘Don’t jerk me around, Vidar. I’ve got other people I’d rather be wasting my time with.’
‘Like that cute little partner of yours? This is twice in a row now without her. You two get into a fight or something?’
‘You said Jonny left. Where did he go?’
‘He shacked it up with those second-coming psychos.’
Kjeld frowned. ‘If you’re talking about Second Life, I already know Jonny was involved with them.’
‘But did you know he got himself clean after he joined them? I know because I ran into him outside an Espresso House in the city centre one day. He looked good. He was off the shit. Lucid. And then last week he just shows back up here on my doorstep begging for anything to make the pain go away. Poor baby.’ Vidar’s lips curled in a fake pout. ‘I have a mantra. Once an addict, always an addict. But this was different. Jonny was scared.’
‘Scared of what?’
Vidar shrugged. ‘Hell if I know.’
Kjeld took out his phone and pulled up a photograph of Louisa. ‘Did you ever see him with this woman?’
Vidar shook his head. ‘No, I’ve never seen her. But there was another woman.’
‘Who?’
‘Chestnut-coloured hair. Long, wavy. She was tall. Sexy face. But she was dressed weird.’
‘Weird how?’
‘She wore a high-cut turtleneck with sleeves that stretched over her knuckles. Like she was purposefully hiding her body. Pity, too. She looked like she was in good shape.’
Chapter 54
Daniel Santelmann’s two-storey house in Lundby was less impressive than Esme expected after reading up on him. And if she hadn’t already refreshed her memory of his case, she might have thought the myriad of security cameras he’d set up around his home’s exterior were overkill for the neighbourhood. His case wasn’t as memorable as Louisa’s or Jonny’s, although it had received national attention, but that was mostly because of the circumstances that resulted in the murders than the actual murders themselves.
Seven years ago, Daniel Santelmann had been a prominent businessman in Gothenburg’s financial district. He was one of those movers and shakers. The kind who made million-dollar deals before lunch and considered that a slow day. When it was discovered he’d been embezzling money off the various companies he did business with and helping more prominent CEOs do the same, it erupted in a nationwide scandal.
The most prominent company, and the one that propelled the case into the media, was an overseas real estate investment firm that sold non-existent rental properties to small-time homeowners with the promise of a return on investment. Thousands of people lost their life savings, many falling into bankruptcy. Daniel Santelmann hadn’t been the only one involved in this scheme, he wasn’t even the most influential or the most to blame, but he was the one it was easiest to pin it on. And he was the one who lost everything as a result of it. His career, his wife, his kids, his expensive high-rise apartment in the city centre. Even his dog. Most tragic of all, however, was the fact that he almost lost his life.
Arvid Wibe had been a well-meaning, carefree man preparing to enter retirement when he lost his entire life savings in the real estate scam. When his wife died after he could no longer afford her medical care, he snapped. He went out to the garden shed where he kept his great-grandfather’s hunting rifle. Then he drove to the city, took the elevator up to the top floor of the firm where Santelmann worked, and walked mindlessly into the boardroom where he killed everyone he blamed for the deal that lost him everything. Everyone but Daniel Santelmann, who cowered beneath a dead man’s body, praying not to be noticed.
But none of that seemed to change the fact that he was an insufferable arsehole. And after a few minutes of being in his house, Esme could understand why someone might want to kill him.
‘You certainly have a fancy camera system set-up here,’ Sixten said as he walked back into the living room from Daniel’s office.
‘Because unlike the police I anticipated the possibility that someone might come after me.’
‘What makes you think that?’ Esme asked.
Daniel shot her a dull, irritated glare. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because someone tried it once before?’
‘Do you have reason to believe that someone might want to harm you?’
‘Do I need a reason? If I understand you two correctly it sounds like this serial killer you’re chasing doesn’t need much of a reason to go after his victims. But why should I have a reason to think I could be one of them?’
Esme placed photos of Louisa, Jonny, and Andrea on the coffee table. She still didn’t know if Andrea was truly involved in the same case, but she couldn’t deny the fact that there had been multiple murders across the city and Andrea was one of them. And Kjeld had a hunch there was something more to Andrea’s case than met the eye. It couldn’t hurt to put her in the li
ne-up. Maybe they’d accidentally stumble onto something important. ‘Have you ever seen any of these people before?’
Daniel gave the photos little more than a cursory glance. ‘Yeah, sure. Those two were in the news the other day.’
Esme motioned to Andrea’s photo. ‘And her?’
‘Never seen her before.’
‘Officers responded to an emergency call from your residence yesterday. Can you tell us about that?’
Daniel rolled his eyes. ‘There was someone sneaking around my house.’
‘Did you get a good look at them?’ Esme asked.
‘No. It was dark and it was raining.’
‘What about your fancy cameras? Any of them pick this person up?’ Sixten stood beside Esme’s chair, using the backrest to casually lean his weight against. It struck her as interesting that he seemed so much more relaxed in Daniel’s presence than he had in front of Andrea’s widow.
‘No, unfortunately they did not. Nothing more than shadows. I explained all of this to the officers who came by.’
‘Not so fancy then, I guess.’
‘I want to know what the police plan to do about all of this.’ Daniel huffed as he poured himself a glass of whisky from a decanter on the shelf. He acted tough, but Esme had seen his hand shaking all night. He was scared. ‘I’m sick of answering these inane questions. If someone is trying to kill me then I want protection.’
‘We’re here to assess the possible danger to you, Herr Santelmann,’ Esme said. ‘That’s why we’re asking all of these questions. They might not seem important, but they are. And if it looks like we have a reason to be concerned we will do everything in our power to make sure you’re safe and protected.’
Daniel scoffed. ‘Why do I not feel relieved? I have a state-of-the-art security system. Nothing is supposed to be able to get past these cameras. Nothing. Not even a fox.’
‘You get a lot of foxes trying to break into houses here in Lundby?’
Daniel ignored Sixten’s smug comment. ‘It’s the best equipment money can buy. And yet yesterday someone managed to get close enough to my door without being caught on the images. That means they know my system. They know the weak spots. Someone has been watching me.’
‘We tried to get hold of you the other day, but you didn’t answer.’
‘I was visiting my sister.’
‘And where does she live?’
‘Jönköping.’ Daniel drank the entire dram in a single gulp and poured himself another. ‘I was there for four days. I got back late last night and spent the evening working.’
Esme glanced at Sixten. ‘Let’s do a search around the house and the perimeter. Check for any signs that someone has broken in or disturbed the surveillance cameras.’
Sixten nodded.
Esme returned her focus to Daniel. ‘I’ll make a call into the station about getting an officer to watch your house.’
Daniel gave a disbelieving snort. ‘One officer?’
‘You’re welcome to hire someone else, if you prefer,’ Esme said, knowing full well that Daniel couldn’t afford personal security. She’d looked him up online. He was barred from working in any reputable financial position and was relegated to doing freelance assessment work for private clients. But from the look of his home, that work wasn’t very successful.
Daniel sneered and slumped down on his sofa.
Esme stood up and motioned for Sixten to follow her. Once they were at the opposite end of the living room near the downstairs corridor, out of range of Daniel’s hearing, she spoke. ‘You check the ground floor, cellar, and exterior. I’ll go through the upstairs. I remember seeing a basement window on the way in. Make sure it’s locked.’
‘Do you really think he could be one of the killer’s targets?’
‘I don’t know, but it worries me that there was someone snooping around his house the other day.’
‘Could have just been neighbourhood kids.’
‘It could have, but I think we need to err on the side of caution.’
‘Do you want me to make a call to the station?’
‘That’d be great. See if Lindén is available.’
‘You want to put a detective on guard duty?’
‘I want someone I trust.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Sixten gave her a playful salute.
Esme shook her head to prevent herself from laughing. ‘God, you really are insufferable sometimes.’
Sixten’s expression faltered. ‘Is that why Kjeld doesn’t want me on the team?’
‘What do you mean he doesn’t want you on the team?’
‘I know he doesn’t like me.’
‘He likes you. We all do.’
‘You don’t have to say that just to be nice. I know he just tolerates me because he has to. And given a choice I think it’s clear he’d rather have someone else.’
‘Kjeld doesn’t just tolerate you, Sixten. That’s just how he is. It takes time for him to adjust to change. You actually share something in common.’
‘We do?’
‘Yeah, he’s equally insufferable at times.’
Sixten smiled in relief.
Daniel, a few more drinks in his system, knocked over the television remote from the coffee table, sending it clattering to the floor. ‘I hope whoever you send to guard me is bigger than a twelve-year-old girl!’
Esme took a deep, calming breath. ‘I’m going to check upstairs and use the bathroom. Meet you back down here in ten minutes?’
‘Sure thing, boss.’
Esme flushed the toilet and washed her hands in the sink. Daniel had an array of various soaps sitting on the vanity, none of which appeared to be antibacterial, so she used all of them just to be safe. Then she looked at herself in the high-gloss mirror and tried not to let Daniel’s drunken comment discourage her. She didn’t think she looked like a twelve-year-old. People had made fun of her size before. It wasn’t that she was below average height, but she was thin-framed and her fringe did give her a younger appearance. She’d had more than one boyfriend in the past suggest that she grow it out because it would make her look older and more attractive. More feminine. That only seemed to have the opposite effect on her. She kept it to spite those kinds of misogynistic comments. But now that she looked at herself in the mirror, she wondered if it was too harshly cut. Too childish.
Was that the reason why she was alone?
She swept her palm over her forehead, pulling her fringe back, and admired her forehead. The lack of fringe made her face look longer. Slenderer. Perhaps a little bit older. But it didn’t change her bushy eyebrows or her small nose. Nor did it change the fact that her lips had the tendency to pull downwards at the corners in a natural pout when she made a neutral expression. She let go of her fringe and matted it back down with her fingers. It was thick and fell into place with little trouble. Then she tied the rest of her hair into a low ponytail.
Not that she cared what people like Daniel said or thought about her. Their opinions didn’t matter. Esme liked how she looked. But more than that, she was comfortable with her appearance. It reminded her that she was an individual while also making her feel safe.
She stepped out of the bathroom and did another sweep of the upstairs bedrooms. There was an uncomfortable loneliness to the master bedroom that reminded her of her own apartment. She checked the windows and the closets. Locked and empty. Then she moved on to the second bedroom, which doubled as Daniel’s office. Also empty. When she reached the third bedroom she paused in the doorway. It was a little boy’s room. Probably one of Daniel’s children. The wall above the bed was decorated in galaxy wallpaper with planets and shooting stars. The duvet matched, depicting a pattern of rocket ships against a dark blue background. Even the lamp was made to look like a configuration of the solar system. When she flicked on the switch, each planet lit up in various colours. Red. Green. Blue. Purple. The rings of Saturn were made of some kind of phosphorescent material that glittered under the light.
Esme fe
lt a sentimental tug in her chest. Followed by an unexpected sorrow she couldn’t quite explain.
Then the lights went out. The entire house shrouded in blackness.
She turned into the corridor, quickly removing her weapon from its holster.
‘Sixten?’ she called out. ‘Daniel?’
She heard a rustle from downstairs, followed by a clatter.
‘Sixten?’
She made her way to the stairs.
No response. Only silence.
‘Sixten? Are you okay?’
The crack of a gunshot cutting through the silence was her only answer.
Chapter 55
Esme bolted down the stairs, gun drawn. She paused just before she reached the ground floor and peeked around the corner. She raised her weapon, checking her blind spots. The lights were out and she pressed her back up against a wall, waiting for her eyes to adjust. The low thump of her heartbeat echoed in her ears.
She stepped off the stairs and made her way into the living room where she found Daniel crouched in a corner behind the sofa. He nearly shrieked when he saw her, his face pale with fear. Esme held up a finger to her lips before mouthing, “Which way?” Daniel raised a shaky arm and pointed towards the kitchen.
Esme stepped through to the dining room. Empty. She tried the nearest light switch, but it didn’t work. Someone had cut the power. She inched forward and checked behind the doorway before pressing on into the kitchen.
The room was a mess. On the floor a carton of tropical fruit juice had fallen, spilling out across the linoleum. Her gaze darted to the left where a knife was missing from the stainless-steel magnetic knife rack above the counter. She steadied her grip, stepping over the spilled juice. She searched the space for Sixten, but he was nowhere to be seen. That was when she noticed that the door at the back of the kitchen to the right of the pantry was ajar. The basement.
She quickly checked the corridor, which circled back to the living room, ensuring no one was hiding in the downstairs toilet. Then she headed back towards the stairwell.
She slipped a small torch from her back pocket and braced it against the wrist of her right hand. The light cast a sharp beam down the steps, illuminating Sixten’s collapsed figure at the bottom. A bloody knife lying beside him.
