The Golden Calf

by Helene Tursten

  When questioned, the two doctors who had ridden in the elevator with Fuller told them that he’d fooled them completely. He had spoken to them in English with an American accent and told them that he was not sure where he was supposed to go. All he knew was the floor number and that it was a surgical unit. Both of the Swedish doctors offered help and gave him directions, explaining that the one across the hall was a pharmaceutical unit. Neither of them had suspected a thing. They had been glad to help a visiting colleague.

  Andersson updated the team on all the drama that Sunday morning. Irene had already called Tommy on Sunday and filled him in, but she hadn’t informed anyone else. The rest of the team thought the plan had been sophisticated and smart.

  “Just like a bad TV cop show,” muttered Jonny. Luckily, Andersson didn’t hear him. The superintendent was thrilled with their work, and was even happier with capturing the suspect. The plan had put an elegant feather in his cap.

  “The American embassy sent us what they have on Michael Fuller,” Fredrik said. “According to them, he was born in New Jersey and moved to New York. He is thirty-five-years-old and an American citizen. He arrived in Sweden in May of 2000.”

  “He came around the same time Sanna returned,” Irene interrupted. “Maybe it’s not connected, but it’s worth noting.”

  “Bonetti was executed that same year,” Fredrik reminded them.

  “When did Fuller start work as head of security at the Hotel Göteborg?” asked Andersson.

  Fredrik looked down at his sheet of notes. “He started upon arrival. He lives with a girl who works at the hotel’s reception desk. They’ve just moved into a new apartment on Norra Älvstranden.”

  “Nice address. Must have earned a good salary as head of security,” Jonny said.

  “Maybe I should switch jobs,” joked Fredrik.

  Andersson snorted in disgust but otherwise ignored Fredrik. Instead, he said, “As soon as Fuller is stable, he’s going to be moved from the hospital to jail, where we can question him.”

  He touched his fingertips together and looked at his team thoughtfully.

  “Since neither Sanna nor Fuller can be questioned today, I want you to interview every single employee of the Hotel Göteborg and find out what that Yank was really up to. Check when he had time off and see if it correlates to the murders. Fredrik, you question that unfaithful secretary, Malin What’s-Her-Name.…” Andersson wrinkled his brow trying to remember.

  “Malin Eriksson,” said Fredrik.

  “Right. Malin Eriksson, who had an affair with Kjell Ceder. That a woman like that could even be married to a police officer! She might know something shady about Fuller.” He turned to Irene. “Have you heard anything from London or Paris?”

  “Yes, I have. Special Agent Lee Hazel from the FBI is on the way here. He’s supposed to have gone to Paris first, and then on to London this afternoon. Tomorrow or the day after, he should arrive here.”

  “A special agent from the FBI?” Andersson said.

  Now the shit had hit the fan. Having other foreign police departments involved in the investigation was fine as long as they stayed put. Having them come here and rummage around in Andersson’s department was another story. The news infuriated him.

  “Glen Thompson says this case is much more complicated than it first appeared. Special Agent Hazel can provide us with his specific knowledge. It should help us,” Irene said, although her voice sounded doubtful.

  She really had no idea what this “specific knowledge” was supposed to be. Glen had been somewhat vague about it, too.

  Perhaps he was also unsure what the special agent actually specialized in.

  IRENE WAS AT her desk writing up her report on Sunday’s events when the telephone rang. A carefully modulated voice, speaking Swedish with an American accent, introduced himself as Jack Curtis from the American embassy. He asked that Irene send Michael Fuller’s fingerprints to the embassy as soon as possible. His tone was polite and measured, but Irene understood that “as soon as possible” actually meant “right away,” with no time for delay.

  She felt surprise as she hung up the phone. Fingerprints? Jack Curtis had rattled off his title quickly: “Director of Security Something-or-Another.”

  So what was this about?

  LATE MONDAY AFTERNOON, the detectives were called to the conference room for a quick run-through, but only Irene, Tommy, Fredrik, and Andersson were in the building. The others were still interviewing people at the Hotel Göteborg and at Östra Hospital.

  Fredrik reported first.

  “Malin Eriksson was willing to work with us. She found vacation lists, reports of employee absence, and similar records. It was odd that the normal rules did not apply to Mr. Fuller. He could come and go as he pleased. According to these records, he was given ten to sixteen weeks per year in addition to the normal five weeks off. He’d attended a number of ‘security conferences’ in the United States; all of it, bear in mind, paid by his employer. For some large hotel chain, it might be almost believable, but that’s certainly not the case here. Obviously way out of line.”

  “Strange, indeed,” Andersson agreed.

  “Another thing—he doesn’t actually manage other employees. The company used a security firm, which did all the actual work, even setting up and recording things on the security cameras. For his ‘hard work,’ he was paid a salary of fifty thousand Swedish kroner a month.”

  “Fifty thousand!” Irene and Andersson exclaimed at the same time.

  Fredrik nodded. “That’s right. Fifty thousand.”

  “No security guard, even the head of security, would earn anywhere near that amount. Did other employees receive such an exorbitant salary?”

  Fredrik shook his head. “No, theirs looked normal. Only Kjell B:son Ceder had one similar. In other words, his so-called ‘Head of Security’ earned as much as he did.”

  “Doubly strange. Still, it explains how the American was able to keep tabs on Ceder. He watched the camera when Ceder went into the garage and got in his car. All Fuller had to do was follow and park a little way away. Then he changed into jogging clothes and was unremarkable as he approached the house. By the way, the lab got back to me, and the half-fingerprint on the jogging reflector does come from Fuller,” Andersson added, happy about the positive identification.

  “But how did he get into the house without Ceder knowing about it?” Fredrik wondered.

  “Fuller had a key. Remember, Sanna told us that Fuller was helping them install a security system around the time of the murder,” Irene said. She turned to her boss and said, “I believe that Mike Fuller was already inside when Ceder got there. He came in through the back door and waited for him in the laundry room. He came out when Ceder went upstairs to get his whiskey. I believe Ceder planned to meet Fuller there, in a house Ceder believed was empty. His lover, Malin Eriksson, was parked at his apartment waiting for him. She’d have recognized Fuller and wondered why Fuller would need to come so far to meet his own boss.”

  “Don’t forget that Fuller, too, would have been surprised to see her there,” added Tommy.

  “Of course. But why the meeting in the first place? Was it something that they couldn’t talk about at work? If it were a security issue, all Fuller had to do was knock on Ceder’s office door.”

  No one could come up with any ideas why the two of them needed to meet at the Askim house.

  It was Irene’s turn to speak. “Just an hour ago, I received an email from Glen Thompson letting us know that Special Agent Lee Hazel will be landing at Landvetter Airport at two P.M. tomorrow afternoon. Glen also wrote.…” Irene picked up the sheet of paper and translated into Swedish on the fly: “… Agent Hazel is a marvel of efficiency and has incredible knowledge about these kinds of cases. Special Agent Hazel is special in many ways.”

  Tommy lifted an eyebrow but refrained from commenting.

  Andersson drummed the table with his fingers, then slammed down his palm with a loud bang. “Fuller is in a
bad spot since physical evidence ties him to the murder at Askim. Also, he was captured in the act of committing a felony with several police officers as witnesses. Not to mention assaulting an officer, rendering her unconscious. He’ll have a rough time getting out of this. I’ve been informed he’ll be moved to jail this evening. Tommy and Irene, you’ll interrogate him tomorrow. After you talk to him, go back again to that damned Kaegler woman and force her to open up! Now that Edward Fulton is dead, there’s nothing left for her to hide. And, just for a change of pace, can you get her to tell the truth?”

  Then he turned to Fredrik. “You’ll go to Landvetter Airport and pick up Agent Hassel, or whatever his name is. We’ll meet here again tomorrow afternoon and bring Mr. Totally Special Special Agent up to speed about what’s been going on here.”

  • • •

  ON TUESDAY MORNING, Michael Fuller was led into one of the interrogation rooms at Headquarters. He was in handcuffs with two huge guards on each side. Since he was judged extremely dangerous, he was fastened to the interrogation room table with both hand and foot chains. By the nasty glares he gave Tommy and Irene, this was a wise precaution indeed.

  Michael Fuller had light-olive skin, thick black hair, and dark brown eyes. His face was both attractive and powerful. There was a slight tendency toward plumpness beneath his chin. He was muscular and in good shape, but, again, there was a bit of a spare tire around his middle.

  Fuller sat there without speaking for half an hour. He didn’t even blink or nod when they asked if he was Michael Fuller. He just eyed them quietly with glowering hatred. Eventually they gave up.

  THE POLICE HAD decided to continue a watch over Sanna for the time being, since no one was sure if Michael Fuller had been acting alone. So, yet again, a police officer sat by Sanna’s hospital room door. This officer was a strong young man with swollen biceps stretching his sleeves. He didn’t know Tommy or Irene, so he demanded their identification when they arrived.

  Sanna Kaegler now looked extremely vulnerable. Dark shadows dipped into her thin face. The nurse had told them that she’d been given a large dose of tranquilizers and pain medication.

  They asked Sanna how she was doing and chatted a bit before they got down to business. Just as before, Tommy was the one who started the real questioning.

  “Were you surprised when you recognized Michael Fuller as the one was trying to kill you?”

  “Was I ever! It was Mike.… I just don’t get it.”

  “Let’s go back to Askim, to the time he tried to shoot you. How did he get you to come where he was hiding?”

  When Sanna looked unwilling to answer, Tommy said bluntly, “We know that Edward Fenton is Ludwig’s father.”

  Sanna closed her eyes, the same response she had whenever she wanted to keep the world at bay. Finally, she opened her eyes and said, “How did you know? Oh, well, it doesn’t really … matter … anymore. Edward and I never used a regular telephone. We always texted or used special cell phones. Only at certain times, too. We didn’t want anyone to find our messages or overhear us. We’d used the same meeting place once before when he was in Göteborg. I got a text message. I was supposed to go there and meet him. I was so happy—I didn’t even know he was in town! And, as it turned out, he wasn’t.…”

  She began to cry. Since Sanna couldn’t use her left arm, Irene helped her with a paper tissue to dry her tears and blow her nose. She quieted a bit and looked at them with eyes that seemed enormous in her thin face.

  “How did Mike know about our meeting place? And how did he use Edward’s cell phone? Mike even knew our code: ‘Meet me at the bushes?’ with a question mark as a signature. This meant we were supposed to meet at the other side of the field from my house by the bushes near the bike trail. I just don’t get it!”

  Irene and Tommy were not able to answer her. It was another important question. How did Michael Fuller end up with Edward Fenton’s cell phone? Since Tommy had no follow-up question just then, Irene decided to ask the one that had been burning in her mind for a long time. Maybe Sanna would prefer not to answer, but she just might.…

  “I’ve been wondering, through this investigation, why did you and Kjell B:son Ceder get married in the first place?”

  Sanna sighed and closed her eyes, but she still answered. “It was Edward’s idea. He was frightened when I told him I was expecting a baby, and I had no intention of having an abortion. His wife—she’s wealthy and her father owns the bank Edward works for. They, that is, her family, are all Catholics. If they found out that Edward and I were expecting a baby together, there’d be hell to pay. He’d already told me that the family had threatened him because of … the money.”

  She paused to blot at the tears that trickled down her face as she told the story. Irene helped her with the paper tissues again, while Tommy asked quietly, “What money?”

  Sanna’s blue, water-washed eyes flashed. “The money that disappeared, of course!” she snapped.

  Tommy continued in the same calm manner. “Which money?”

  “The ph.com money!” She was angry. The money that had puffed into smoke when the tech bubble burst—the money lurking in the background all along.

  “Was Edward’s family angry about money lost in the crash that took down ph.com?” Tommy made his question perfectly clear.

  Sanna nodded and sobbed slightly. She blew her nose again with Irene’s help and then tried to pull herself together.

  “Edward told me he had to pay it all back. All the money that was lost. That was sick! Everybody lost money in the crash!” She toned down her rant. “He said it would take years, but once it was paid, he’d be free. Free to leave her and join Ludde and me. But during that time, no one must suspect that Ludde was his son. So it was for our safety—that is, for Ludde’s safety and my safety—that he arranged my marriage to Kjell B:son Ceder.”

  She lifted her chin defiantly, but her trembling lower lip undermined the effect she wanted to make. She didn’t look proud, but like a little lost girl abandoned by all.

  Irene didn’t mention her own thoughts on the matter. She asked quietly, “What did Kjell think about this arranged marriage?”

  “He was doubtful at first, but then he agreed to it. We’d actually slept together a few times in earlier years.… We had fun, nothing more. I mean, he had nothing against me per se.… So, for friendship’s sake—friendship to both Edward and to me—he decided to help us. We got married pretty quickly after that.”

  Irene speculated that maybe Edward Fenton had some sort of blackmail on Kjell B:son Ceder, too. After all, Edward was the only witness to the disappearance of Marie Lagerfeld-Ceder from the deck of the sailboat that night. With all three now dead, no one would ever know for sure what had really happened to the first Mrs. Ceder.

  “Did you agree on your living arrangements once you were married? Your different residences and the like?” asked Tommy.

  “Yes, we were in complete agreement. Neither one of us wanted to live in the same place as the other. But the most important thing you have to keep in mind is that we were not enemies. Far from it! We had lots of fun together. For example, we went to Portugal last August. Though when we were there, I stayed with Edward, and he took a French lover. Her name was Birgitte. We rented a large house for all of us.”

  Without knowing it, Sanna smiled at the memory. Tommy and Irene exchanged glances. The pieces were falling into place. Still, a lot didn’t make sense. Parts of the puzzle were still missing, and other parts did not fit properly. Perhaps even Sanna didn’t know the whole truth. Perhaps she only knew what Edward had told her. However, her attitude now showed she’d given up lying.

  “How long did you stay in Portugal?” asked Irene.

  “For two weeks.”

  “Was Edward with you the whole time?”

  Sanna appeared horrified. “No, of course not! He stayed for only four days. His wife and children had already gone to the States, and he’d told them he had to wrap up a thing or two before he co
uld join them. Then he came down to Portugal to see me and Ludde.”

  The tone of her voice hinted at a sense of triumph over her competitor. Good old Fenton, Irene thought. You really made a mess of things, didn’t you? No wonder you ended up in the trunk of a car. When he’d shot at Irene in Paris, he must have felt desperate. Had his thumbscrews been tightening? Apparently so.

  Irene decided to ask another question about Edward. “One more thing. If I understood you correctly, Edward was the go-between for the money between you and the blackmailer.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So how did that work? Transferring the money, I mean.

  Sanna was surprised at the question. “Why, I just put the money into his account at HP Johnson, of course.”

  “And then Edward would take care of sending the money on.”

  “Yes, I told you that.”

  The question obviously irritated Sanna, and Irene suspected why. The arrangement was odd no matter how you looked at it. If nothing else, Edward Fenton must have known the identity of the extortionist.

  Tommy cleared his throat and took over the questioning. “Can you talk about those fingers?”

  Sanna nodded bravely and looked at him with trust.

  How does Tommy do it? wondered Irene. What is his special way with women that he can turn on like a switch? And why does he never use this gift on me? The answer was obvious. She wouldn’t be taken in. Maybe that’s why they had a good friendship—neither played those kinds of games on each other.

  “You told us that Edward had also received a finger. Is that right?”

  Sanna nodded.

  “Did he tell you that through a text message or did he tell you directly on the phone?”

  “A text.”

  “Do you remember the exact words?”

  Sanna closed her eyes to think and then said, “He wrote that the extortionist wanted the fingers back. I answered that I’d thrown mine away. He texted that he’d thrown his away, too. Still, if I found the finger sent to Kjell, the threat against me and Ludde would be lifted.”