Detective Inspector Huss: A Huss Investigation set in Sweden, Vol. 1

by Helen Tursten

  “Well, we know that you were often seen with Bobo Torsson. That you were good friends and that you worked together. We also know that you were the one who talked to your father-in-law and arranged for Bobo to rent the apartments on Berzeliigatan.”

  “That’s correct. But Bobo has an aunt who owned the tobacco shop across the street. She gave Bobo a tip that Richard was renovating the apartments in his building. Then he asked me to ask Richard whether there was any chance he could rent one of them.”

  “Do you know that Bobo is dead?”

  Now Charlotte’s eyes glistened and she swallowed hard before replying. “I heard it on the news. How horrible!”

  “Do you know if Bobo was involved in anything that might have made someone want to kill him?”

  Something flared up behind the turquoise blue. Unease and wariness.

  “No. Absolutely not!”

  She crossed her legs harder and started to massage her bare forearms as if she were cold.

  “Did Bobo sell drugs to you?”

  Just like Lot’s wife, Charlotte was turned into a pillar of salt. It took a long while before she replied apologetically, yet still aggressively, “Everybody uses a little smack nowadays. Everybody does it. There’s nothing unusual about that. It’s like using alcohol!”

  “I see. But it falls under different legislation. Did he sell a lot?”

  Now she was prepared and made a brave attempt to sound haughty. “Not at all! He was a prominent photographer. The little he sold was only to friends and at private parties.”

  She was almost successful, but not quite. Since Irene had a lot of other sensitive questions to ask, she changed the subject. “Do you know a man named Lasse ‘Shorty’ Johannesson?”

  Charlotte was startled, but not scared. She pursed her lips and said, “That’s Bobo’s cousin. But I’ve never met him.”

  “So you don’t know him at all?”

  “No.”

  Clearly Irene wasn’t going to get any farther with Shorty. Time to switch tacks. She continued calmly, “We also have information that you received a spare-key ring from Richard von Knecht this summer. Why did he give it to you?”

  Her astonishment was not feigned. Or else she was a better actress than Irene thought.

  “Spare keys? I never got any spare keys from Richard.”

  “Your father-in-law never gave you any keys?”

  “No.”

  “Was it Henrik who got them?”

  Now her gaze flickered before she answered, “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t know if Henrik was given the spare keys by his father?”

  “No.”

  “But you did know that there was a key ring with spare keys on it, didn’t you?”

  “No, I tell you! No!”

  A new scent broke through the heavy Cartier perfume. Terror.

  “Then we’ll have to ask Henrik when he comes home,” said Irene.

  She pretended to look at something in her blank notebook. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Charlotte relax and sink a bit in her chair. She obviously thought the danger was past.

  Thoughtfully Irene said, “Well, you know, Sylvia told me yesterday that Henrik contracted the mumps when he was in the service. Apparently he became sterile, since it also affected his testicles. I think that seems a bit strange, considering that you’re pregnant, don’t you?”

  The question remained hanging in the air over their heads, like the blade of a guillotine. Charlotte turned pale as a corpse underneath her makeup. “What are you talking about? I feel sick!”

  She got up and rushed toward the hall. On her way she knocked over a large Chinese vase. It shattered on the marble hearth in front of the open fireplace. They could hear her tear open the door to the toilet in the hall and slam it shut. Tommy pointed toward the upper floor. Irene nodded, because she had heard it too. A light thump, like a bouncing ball. Someone upstairs had dropped something on the floor.

  After nearly five minutes Charlotte returned. She was composed, but they could see she had been crying. Her voice was ice cold when she said, “This is Henrik’s child. I’m having a test, whatever it’s called. The kind they do to determine paternity.”

  “DNA tests.”

  “That’s it. But you’ll have to wait until May! And I would like you to leave now. I’m not feeling well because of the pregnancy and your horrible questions. As if in some way I’m under suspicion!”

  When they stood, Tommy smiled at her. Automatically she smiled back, but it was extinguished when he said in a friendly voice, “You are.”

  Rage glowed behind the contact lenses. Irene was almost afraid they were going to crack. She lied like a trouper, this young lady, but for the moment they would get no further with her.

  Charlotte escorted them to the entryway. Demonstratively she opened the door wide to show them out. Tommy stopped and looked at the gaudy cowboy boots without saying a word. He caught her eye and smiled knowingly. It was more than she could handle. Her hands were shaking when she grabbed hold of Tommy’s jacket and pushed him out.

  Tauntingly he said, “Watch out, that could be assault on a police officer.”

  “Fuck that! I’m going to report you! The von Knecht family isn’t just anybody! You’re going to lose your job!”

  With all her might she slammed the door shut.

  They said nothing to each other until they were sitting in the car. Tommy looked at Irene. “We were tough on her. What if she has a miscarriage?”

  “It would be more the fault of all the alcohol and God knows what else she’s put in her body. And she won’t be reporting it to any lawyer. By the way—the cowboy boots. And the jacket. We have to find out who’s upstairs,” said Irene.

  She started the car, made a “Göteborg U-turn,” and rolled down the street. When they were out of sight of the house, she stopped the car and asked, “Do you want the first shift, or shall I take it?”

  “I’ll take it. If anything happens I’ll call you. Otherwise you can come back after you meet with the Narcs.”

  “Aren’t you going to be there?”

  “It’s better if you go. You were the one out in Billdal.”

  “Yep, God knows I was . . . Okay, we’ll do it like this. I’ll be at headquarters in about half an hour. It depends a little on the streetcars and buses.”

  She climbed out of the car and headed off toward St. Sigfrid’s Circle.

  BIRGITTA WAS the first person she ran into at the division. She beamed and waved Irene into her office. There was restrained excitement in her voice.

  “I’ve been looking for you. You said you were going to question Charlotte in more detail. That stirred up something in the back of my mind. I began rummaging through the little I have on Bobo Torsson. And I found this!”

  Triumphantly she pointed at a list of names. Her index finger stopped on the name Charlotte Croona. Eagerly she went on, “I was startled when I saw this name the first time. But I had forgotten all your society gossip and never fixed the name in my mind. When you started saying that Bobo and Charlotte had some closer contact, it clicked. This is the list of the people busted in the raid in nineteen eighty-nine, when Shorty went to jail!”

  “You’ve got to be kidding! Did Jonny ask Shorty if he knew Charlotte?”

  “Yes. He says he doesn’t have any idea who she is. But the interesting thing is that Charlotte was arrested for possession of half a gram of cocaine. She got off with a suspended sentence, since she didn’t have a prior record. I searched, but couldn’t find a thing on her after ’eighty-nine.”

  Irene sat and tried to think. She told Birgitta that Tommy was staking out the place, trying to find out who Charlotte’s gentleman caller was.

  Birgitta suggested, “Could it be the father of her child? If you’re right about Henrik really becoming sterile after having the mumps. Can we check that out?”

  “No. We have no chance of getting hold of those records. I’m basing my suspicions on Sylvia’s reaction whe
n I mentioned the possibility. And on ‘Paul Fig-Ball.’”

  “‘Paul Fig-Ball’?”

  Irene explained. Birgitta agreed that it was a long shot. But she had an idea. “What if Bobo Torsson is the father of Charlotte’s child? Maybe they had a relationship the whole time.”

  “Possible. We’ll have to check that out somehow. Do we have time to eat before the meeting?”

  “Sure, if we wolf it down.”

  ASSISTANT SUPERINTENDENT Annika Nilsén and two inspectors from Narcotics were in place. Irene was taken aback when she saw them, and for a bewildering moment wondered if Nilsén had dragged along a couple of suspected dealers. But at the same time she knew that was how the undercover Narcs had to look in order to blend in. How great was the risk that they might actually blend in too well and start taking part in the activity they were assigned to monitor? To judge by the appearance of these two undercover agents, they were already a well-established part of Göteborg’s narcotics scene. Which of course was the intention. From Violent Crimes, there were Superintendent Andersson, Irene Huss, Birgitta Moberg, and Hans Borg.

  The latter looked as if he would rather lie down and sleep off his lunch. He had put his chair in the farthest corner and now sat with his head tipped back and his eyes closed.

  Andersson briefly introduced everyone. The two Narcs were Stig Bertilsson and Daniel Svensson. Irene would have guessed Cheech and Chong.

  Andersson began by reporting on what had led Violent Crimes to Billdal. He spoke for a long time about their suspicions and the evidence of Bobo Torsson’s involvement in selling narcotics. Then he switched to talking about Bobo’s death in the parking lot at the Delsjön golf course.

  “The techs determined that the bomb on Berzeliigatan and the bomb that killed Bobo were constructed on the same principle. In cach case the bomb was made from heavy iron pipe. The interesting thing is that it seems to be the same type of pipe, old-fashioned, heavy drainpipes, but of different dimensions. We had a good tip from a lady who lived in the building, but who wasn’t home when it went off. She arrived right afterward, broke down, and had to be taken to the hospital. But she’s okay now. Yesterday Fredrik met her by pure chance down on Berzeliigatan. They stood and watched as the men dug through the rubble. She started to ask how the bomb was constructed, Fredrik told me, and then she said something damned interesting. She had complained several times that there was a pile of old pipes left in the cellar from the renovation several years earlier. At that time all the drainpipes and water lines were replaced. But nothing happened. The pipes just stayed there. She had seen them as recently as two weeks ago.”

  Irene waved her hand and was recognized. “It must be possible to dig down into the cellar and find those pipes. And the lady who saw the pipes might know approximately where to dig.”

  Andersson nodded and rubbed his hands. “Precisely. That’s already been decided. But first we have to pull out von Knecht’s safe. How’s that going, Borg?”

  Hans Borg jumped. He was unlucky enough to have his chair slip out from under him as he sat leaning against the wall. With a crash it hit the floor, and he banged his head. Cheech and Chong exchanged glances.

  Borg rubbed his sore head and tried to collect his tattered dignity. Apart from these two things, he didn’t seem any the worse for wear. He picked up the chair and sat down again. Embarrassed, he said, “Excuse me. The boys are planning to pry the safe loose this afternoon, if all goes well. After that they’ll start digging for the pipes in the cellar. It’s going to take some time.”

  Andersson interjected, “How long? How soon can they start digging down there?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. If they know exactly where to dig.”

  “Okay. See that the old lady is there to show them, so we don’t waste a lot of time searching in the wrong spot. Have you got anything else?”

  “Yes. This morning that teacher at Ascheberg High School called. The one who loaned me a felt pen and paper in the parking garage when I needed to put up a note that we wanted tips if anyone saw anything. He called and said that he had come upon something. He’s a part-time teacher at the school and doesn’t have a parking place right outside the building. That’s why he’s allowed to use a spot in the parking garage, which is about a hundred meters down the street. Last Tuesday night he worked late, until five-fifteen. When he set off for home, he rushed toward the parking garage. That’s when he saw a light-colored car in the teachers’ parking area that he had never seen before. Since it was after school hours he decided not to worry about it. But he remembered it now, because the newspapers said that no one had seen anything unusual around that time. And that was unusual! Only the teachers can use these parking places until six at night. And he says that none of the teachers who usually park there has a light-colored car. He’s not sure of the exact color.”

  “What make?”

  “He doesn’t know. He was in a hurry in the pouring rain.”

  Irene could see that Andersson thought this was interesting. But the three from Narcotics looked so obviously bored that it was probably best to switch over to their domain. Andersson noticed this too and wrapped up.

  “Keep checking, Hans. You’re good at stuff with cars. Now we’ll move on to Billdal.”

  Annika Nilsén nodded and immediately gave the floor to Stig Bertilsson. He started by telling them about the many years of work Narcotics had devoted to trying to chart the role of the motorcycle gangs in narcotics trafficking. It turned out that they had a surprisingly large share of the market. The small gangs didn’t deal drugs. On the other hand, the gangs associated with the Bandidos or Hell’s Angels did. And the membership of Hell’s Angels Death Squadron No. 1 were being watched most closely at the moment. All kinds of narcotics poured in through them from Denmark and Holland.

  Irene began to formulate a vague idea about a connection to Bobo Torsson and Shorty. She broke in with a question. “How do these gangs distribute dope to buyers?”

  “Most often through dealers. It’s not easy for a fat guy in leather on a big Harley to ride around selling dope to teenagers. He’s too visible, and the risk of getting caught is too great. No, they take large quantities and sell to middlemen, who then distribute it to the market.”

  Irene nodded and said, “That sounds like Bobo Torsson. We know that he was dealing. And Shorty too, but we don’t have anything on him since he got out of prison. Do you know if he’s had any contact with this gang?”

  Bertilsson shook his head. Andersson groaned out loud and everyone could hear him muttering, “We’re going to have to release that scumbag!”

  Birgitta patted him lightly on the arm and said consolingly, “I think I’ll keep digging in the files. I’ll work on it this afternoon. If there’s any connection, that’s where it’ll be.”

  “All right. Keep digging,” her boss sighed.

  Irene leaned forward and patted Andersson on the other arm. She gave him an encouraging smile and said, “And you can ask Shorty if Bobo and Charlotte had a relationship. No doubt he won’t answer, but maybe you can read something from his reaction.”

  “You mean a sexual relationship?”

  “Yes.”

  Andersson raised his eyebrows and nodded. He turned to his colleagues from Narcotics and explained, “This is the only point of contact between Bobo and the von Knecht family we’ve found. Do you have the slightest indication that Richard von Knecht or anyone else in the von Knecht family might be mixed up with drugs?”

  Annika Nilsén cleared her throat and said in her toneless voice, “No. That name has never come up in our department, as far as I know. Have you ever seen it?” She turned to the two agents, who both shook their heads.

  Birgitta said eagerly, “But we’ve found Charlotte’s name on a list from a raid in ninteen eighty-nine! She was single at the time and her last name was Croona.”

  Stig Bertilsson looked crestfallen. “But I was in on that bust! Charlotte Croona! She was doing a striptease on the tab
le, so there wasn’t much to search. For lack of anything better I had a good look at her necklace, a little carved cylinder. And when I unscrewed it there was snow inside. Freebase, not pure. That’s why she got off with a suspended sentence. When we got to the station she was almost psychotic. Hallucinating.”

  He paused and grimaced at the memory. Then he went on, “I found out that she was a pretty well-known photo model, although there was never anything in the papers about her. But believe me, nobody who was there could forget Charlotte Croona!”

  Andersson exclaimed, “And Bobo and Shorty were there too! It has to be Bobo and Charlotte who are the point of contact.”

  The others agreed.

  Irene sighed dejectedly. “We have to find proof! We’ve got nothing but assumptions and guesses.”

  Andersson gave her an indulgent look and said, “That’s fairly normal for an investigation. We just have to find some evidence that will hold up.” He turned to Bertilsson. “What did you come up with in Billdal?”

  Bertilsson shrugged. “Not much. Judging from the statements given by the neighbors along the road, the motorcycle guys were on the scene for three days. But no one ever saw more than two at a time. And no one suspected that they had broken into those two summer cabins. The gang had picked the locks. The only trace of drugs was a number of small plastic bags containing amphetamine. No hypodermics, but some paper towels with blood spots. Both places were a mess, and we found tons of fingerprints. Two pairs have been identified, belonging to Glenn ‘Hoffa’ Strömberg and Paul Svensson. Three pairs aren’t in the records. One of them is so small that we assume it’s from the girl. We haven’t managed to identify her. We sent the other two sets to Interpol. We suspect the police in Holland may have those prints in their archives. Death Squadron had a visit from an Amsterdam club all last weekend and the beginning of this week. They came up via Malmö last Thursday. Twelve of them thundering up the coast of Halland. We followed them. Or at least we tried. They split up and stayed with various gang members. Yesterday they went back to Holland.”

  Andersson was frowning anxiously when he asked, “But how did Bobo, and possibly also Shorty, come in contact with the Hell’s Angels? Shorty vehemently denies knowing Hoffa.”