by Leif Persson
‘A difficult period in our lives . . .’, ‘getting used to a new environment . . .’, ‘Linda made new friends, started a new school . . .’, ‘I got a new job as a teacher while I was still studying . . .’, ‘when I met my husband I was working as a secretary . . . that’s how we met . . .’, ‘then, once we were married and I had Linda and we moved to the US, I was mostly just a trophy wife . . .’, ‘I was terribly bored, although Henning took to it like a fish to water. The person Linda and I saw least of was probably her dad . . . in fact, we hardly ever saw him . . .
‘But of course, in a financial sense I was very privileged. We might have had a prenuptial agreement, but the first thing he did before Linda and I moved back to Sweden was give me the building where . . . where it all happened . . . and we lived there until Linda suddenly . . . that was when she was already in high school . . . decided that now that her father had deigned to come home, she wanted to live with him out in the country . . . although as soon as she wanted to be back in town she’d live with me again . . .’
Boyfriends?
‘The first one was probably a little black boy who was in the same class as Linda when we lived in the States . . . Linda was only seven, the same as him . . . his name was Leroy, and he was so sweet you just wanted to eat him all up . . . that was probably the first time Linda fell in love . . .’
After that? Boyfriends that she had a sexual relationship with?
Not many, according to her mother, albeit with the proviso that Linda always kept very quiet about things like that. The longest relationship Linda had been in had lasted about a year, and came to an end about six months ago.
‘The son of some family friends. One of the few families that I still see since I divorced my ex-husband. Another very nice boy, went by the name Noppe, although his real name’s Carl-Fredrik. I think Linda simply got fed up with him. It got too much for her once she’d started at police college.’
Was Linda ever difficult, did she ever argue, did she have any enemies, could there even be anyone who wished her harm?
Not in her mother’s world. Not when it came to her beloved daughter, because when she was at her worst she was probably like most teenage girls were most of the time – Lotta had realized that from friends with daughters the same age – but Linda wasn’t often like that. Bad sides? Linda could be very stubborn. And she could be a bit naïve. A bit too trusting, believing people were better than they really deserved.
During his twenty years as a murder detective, Rogersson had conducted hundreds of interviews with close relatives of murder victims. So it was no surprise that Linda’s mother herself was the last point on his list of questions, and no surprise at all that she reacted the same way all the others before her had. Why did he want to talk about her? She didn’t have anything to do with Linda’s murder. She was a victim as well. Someone had snatched her only daughter from her, and she was expected to live on with nothing but her grief to cling to.
Rogersson gave her the usual answers. That this was about finding Linda’s murderer. That he had absolutely no suspicion that Linda’s mother might have had anything to do with the crime, but that the actual point of someone like him and his questions was that he sometimes uncovered things that the mother of a murdered daughter might not notice, precisely because her grief stopped her from seeing them. She took it better than most of them did.
Had she seen any new men since the divorce from her husband? Had any of them ever shown any interest in her daughter? Had she ever met anyone who could possibly want to harm her by attacking her only child?
Naturally, she had seen other men since the divorce. Several, in fact, but they had mostly been short or even fleeting relationships, and the most recent of them had been several years ago now. Someone she worked with, someone one of her friends worked with, someone else she met through work, even the divorced father of one of her former pupils. And several brief encounters with other men, mostly when she was on holiday abroad. She had actually fallen for one of those, and had kept in touch for a while. But it hadn’t led to anything, and had dwindled to phone calls, then emails, with increasingly large gaps between them, before finally silence.
Must have been gay, Bäckström thought. Blind and gay.
The thought that one of these men could have murdered her daughter was completely impossible to imagine. They just didn’t belong in that context, that wasn’t the sort of man she ever met, most of them had never met Linda, and at least a couple of them didn’t even know that she had a daughter.
‘She must have been attacked by a complete maniac,’ Linda’s mother said. ‘As I said, Linda thought the best of everyone. She could actually be very naïve at times.’
‘What the hell were we doing out there?’ Bäckström asked in the car on their way back to the police station. ‘That didn’t give us anything at all.’ Suck on that, you pedantic bastard, he thought.
‘There was nothing wrong with that cordial, considering that it was just cordial,’ Rogersson retorted. ‘For a while I got the impression that there was something she suspected, or was still trying to work out. Something on her mind.’
‘And what the hell would that have been?’ So Rogge isn’t just an alcoholic, Bäckström thought, he’s got second sight as well.
‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ Rogersson replied. ‘Just a feeling, really. I’ve been wrong before.’ He shrugged. ‘Right now her head must be complete chaos. I wonder how many tranquillizers they’re pushing into her.’
‘If you ask me, she was completely gone,’ Bäckström said. Like most women, just considerably better looking, he thought.
‘And that might well be a good enough reason to go back and talk to her again,’ Rogersson said.
‘Well, if nothing else, she’s a damn fine woman,’ Bäckström declared. ‘Once she’s back to normal, I mean. Let me know when you’re going again and I’ll tag along.’
42
EVEN THOUGH TRAINEE police officer Löfgren was a changed person, almost accommodating, and even though he seemed to be telling the truth in all important respects, Lewin still thought he had shown his better side the first time he had met him, when he mostly sat there and messed them about.
Now that Erik ‘Ronaldo’ Löfgren had been eliminated from the murder investigation, his gentlemanly reservations about discussing his sexual relationship with Linda seemed to have vanished. The first time had been in the middle of May, at Linda’s father’s house out in the country. The plan had been to watch a football match on television together. But rather more than that had actually happened, and they had carried on for more than a month, until the end of term at police college when everything had come to an end. They had met on their own on four or five occasions, all of them with the exception of the first in Löfgren’s lodgings in Växjö. On one occasion they had gone to the cinema, and on another they went to a coffee shop, but mostly they had sat and watched television and DVDs, just relaxing or having sex with each other.
‘So which one of you ended it?’ Lewin asked.
That wasn’t entirely clear, according to young Löfgren. It was probably coming to an end of its own accord anyway, but if someone had taken the initiative, then it was probably him.
‘Things weren’t really going anywhere,’ Löfgren said with a shrug. ‘Linda was a great girl, lovely, and really quite pretty, and there was nothing exactly wrong with the sex either, but it wasn’t brilliant. It wasn’t like I was moping about at home when she wasn’t there or anything. So I suggested we could maybe rewind a bit and just be ordinary friends again. Not even fuck-buddies, in fact.’
What sort of sex had they had? What sort of sex did Linda prefer? And who had taken the initiative and made the decisions, if there was anything like that in their relationship?
Ordinary sex, normal sex, not too much, and not too little, in Löfgren’s estimation, and the one responsible for anything happening was him.
‘She was in good shape and all that. And she used to come, as
long as I worked at her. I was in the driving seat and she used to ride along, if I can put it like that. It wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t brilliant. I know I shouldn’t talk about her like this now she’s dead, but seeing as it seems to be so important for you . . . Maybe a six, six and a half maybe, out of ten, but some of that’s because she was pretty good-looking. She wasn’t very experienced, and . . . and I know this sounds harsh . . . she didn’t have that glint in her eye.’
‘I understand that you’re an experienced man when it comes to women, and that’s why I’m going to ask this question.’ Lewin nodded thoughtfully towards Löfgren, though really he felt like picking up his chair and smashing him over the head with it. ‘You never got the impression that Linda was really after slightly harder sex? If you really wanted to get her going, I mean?’
‘No,’ Löfgren said in surprise. ‘I would have noticed if she had been. I mean, if that was the case, then she would have got it. I’m absolutely sure she just wanted to go through the basic programme, so that’s what she got.’
Linda’s previous boyfriends, her relationship with her parents, friends of either gender?
They hadn’t really talked much about that sort of thing. Although she mentioned her ex-boyfriend. A complete disaster in bed, according to what Linda had told Löfgren. As far as friends were concerned, they had mostly talked about her female friends. Which wasn’t so odd, in Löfgren’s opinion, seeing as he knew a lot of them and had even slept with a couple.
‘Did Linda know that?’ Lewin asked.
‘No. Are you mad, Lewin? No one knew about it. That’s the first rule. Never tell girls that sort of thing. Only girls are allowed to tell other girls that sort of stuff. It’s a typical girl thing. I mean, if I slept with the girlfriend of one of my friends, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to tell him. You’d find yourself looking for new kneecaps.’
‘So Linda might well have known that you’d slept with two of her friends?’ Lewin summarized.
‘If she did, she never mentioned it,’ Löfgren said sourly. ‘But sure.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Girls talk a fuck of a lot, after all.’
According to Löfgren, there was one person who seemed to have meant more to Linda than everyone else put together. Her dad.
‘Talk about a daddy’s girl,’ Löfgren said. ‘Everything seemed to revolve about her damn father. It looked like she got everything she ever wanted, without even having to ask. It was pure Beverly Hills. I don’t know if you’ve met him, but they’re . . . or rather, they were . . . pretty damn similar. If they’d been the same age, you would have thought they were twins. He used to call her all the time as well. One evening when she was round mine, he called her mobile three times. And they used to talk constantly, even though they didn’t really have anything to say. Hello darling, hello Daddy, I forgot to say, darling. All that sort of thing, if you get what I mean.’ Löfgren pretended to hold a phone to his ear.
‘You didn’t like Linda’s father?’
‘I don’t think I had a problem,’ Löfgren snorted. ‘It was more like he did.’
‘I thought you only met him once?’ Lewin said.
‘Once was more than enough,’ Löfgren said. ‘I could tell right away what he thought of me. About people like me, I mean.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Black men,’ Löfgren said. ‘In his world, nothing else mattered. Someone like me was fucked from the start. It was probably no coincidence that he lived in the US for years. Linda’s dad was a real racist.’
‘But Linda wasn’t like that?’ ‘No, her thing seemed to be that you should like people like me. I’m sure she really did as well. Really liked people like me precisely because that was who we were. And how great do you think that makes you feel?’
‘Did you and Linda ever talk about that?’ Lewin asked. Can’t have been very nice if it’s true, he thought.
Once, according to Löfgren. He had actually said what he thought of her father, that he thought he was racist.
‘She got furious,’ Löfgren said. ‘Mind you, she agreed with me, but all she kept saying was that it wasn’t the old man’s fault. Some sort of generational thing, and that he was really the kindest man in the world, and for him it was all about individuals, all that bullshit.’
‘What about her mother, then?’ Lewin wondered. ‘What did she think of her mum?’
‘Not much, if you ask me,’ Löfgren said with a crooked smile. ‘They used to argue like crazy all the time. I heard them going at it over the phone once. Complete cat-fight.’
‘I thought Linda used to live at her mother’s quite a lot?’
‘When she was in town, yes, and when she knew her mum wasn’t at home. Otherwise she used to go back to her dad’s. Sometimes she’d even get a taxi from town to take her out there, even though it must have cost – what? – five hundred kronor or so?’ Löfgren shook his head.
‘So why was she so angry with her mum, then?’
‘I think it was all to do with her dad, because he was pretty much god,’ Löfgren said. ‘She used to go on about her mum leaving her dad, that she’d only been interested in his money and all that. That her mum had betrayed her dad, and that it was her mum’s fault he had a heart attack, all that sort of thing.’
‘Did you ever meet Linda’s mother?’ Lewin asked.
‘Once,’ Löfgren said with a smile. ‘I met her when Linda and I and a group of other friends were out in town one evening. Back in the spring. Before we got together. I only said hello. To her mum, I mean.’
‘What sort of impression did you get of her?’
‘She seemed really okay, actually. She’s a teacher, apparently.’
‘Anything else that struck you?’ Lewin asked. You’re holding something back, he thought.
‘Okay,’ Löfgren said with a grin. ‘I thought she looked bloody good. I mean, she must be at least forty, but, well . . .’
‘So explain it to an old man,’ Lewin said.
‘Talk about having a glint in her eye!’ Löfgren said. ‘If you ask me, Linda’s mum was a clear ten. If you get what I mean. I wouldn’t have said no if she’d asked.’
‘I think I understand what you mean,’ Lewin said.
‘That’s what was so weird,’ Roland said. ‘With Linda and her mum, I mean. They weren’t at all alike. Linda was a lovely, sweet girl, a good friend. But her mum . . . Talk about a really cool woman! The sort of woman who could take you places you’d never been before.’
‘Really?’ Lewin said, nodding thoughtfully. Really? he thought.
43
THE ASSOCIATION VÄXJÖ Men Against Violence to Women had received a very positive welcome in the local media, and even though it was summer and height of the holiday season some fifty men had already said they would like to take part. In practical terms, this was considerably more than they really needed. Växjö’s nightlife, particularly in summer, wasn’t exactly hectic, to put it mildly, and in order to balance their resources with demand, they had divided the volunteers across the days of the week. They had even decided that the association’s fellow menfolk would patrol the town’s streets and squares in teams of two. This offered other advantages besides ease of planning, partly because it increased the security of the menfolk themselves, and partly because it acted as an extra control in case some joker managed to get through the eye of the association’s needle.
They had also adapted to the weather, and had a load of T-shirts printed bearing the word MENFOLK in red lettering across the wearer’s chest and back. This meant that the wearers were easily recognizable by those they were there to help and protect, while offering a means of authorization that didn’t have to be fished out of a pocket if anything ever happened.
Communications had been set up in the simplest possible way, with the Menfolk on the same shift making sure they had each other’s mobile numbers before they headed out into town. And of course there was also a special emergency number to the police, in case they ever found themselves in a
dangerous situation. And, finally, they had also had the foresight to place an order with a local clothing company for rainproof jackets with detachable linings, bearing the same logo, in plenty of time before the autumn, when rather different weather could be expected. Last but by no means least, and particularly not in parsimonious Småland, there had been so much interest from different sponsors that they would really have needed to wear overalls to have room to promote them all.
Against this background, it was especially unfortunate that a regrettable incident that could easily have ended in tragedy occurred during the very first week. On Tuesday night two of the association’s committee members who, together with two other pairs, were patrolling the central area between the Tegnér Cemetery, the health centre, the fire station and the cathedral tried to mediate between half a dozen youngsters who were arguing outside McDonald’s, at the junction of Storgatan and Liedbergsgatan.
All of those involved came from immigrant backgrounds, and all of them apart from the two that the dispute was actually about were boys or at most young men. Committee member Bengt Karlsson had first attempted to lower the tension by talking to them, which was the introductory step in the three-step model of conflict resolution – conversation, intervention, immobilization – that they had chosen to follow.
In spite of this, two of them had started fighting anyway, eagerly cheered on by the rest of them, regardless of gender, and at this point Karlsson and his partner had been forced to proceed directly to step three of the CII model and try to separate the two opponents. The effect of their action had been immediate. The two fighting men had immediately forgotten their differences and along with their supporters had turned on the two Menfolk as one. If Karlsson’s partner hadn’t already rung the emergency number on his mobile, things could have ended very badly indeed.
Within a couple of minutes one of the other Menfolk teams had arrived at a run from the railway station, and tried to help as best they could in accordance with the recommended method. At roughly the same time a patrol car containing von Essen and Adolfsson had also arrived. Because of the stretched resources within the Växjö Police, they had had to pull on their uniforms and do an extra shift in the station’s rapid-response unit. First out was Police Constable Adolfsson, and, although it is unclear exactly what he and his partner did, within the space of a minute and a half they had separated all those involved and Adolfsson had got the two most active of them on the ground.
