‘Sure, as long as you don’t go too fast. I don’t know my way around here,’ said Patrik. He and Gösta headed for their own vehicle.
‘I’ll drive as cautiously as a driving instructor,’ laughed Ulf.
They headed through town and then entered an area with fewer buildings. After another twenty minutes, there were almost no buildings at all.
‘We’re really out in the country,’ said Gösta, glancing around. ‘Do they live out in the woods?’
‘Maybe it’s not so strange that they live way out here. There are probably a lot of things they don’t want the neighbours to see.’
‘True enough.’
Ulf slowed and turned into a driveway in front of a big house. Several dogs came running out to the cars, barking loudly.
‘Shit. I don’t like dogs,’ said Gösta, staring out of the windscreen. He jumped when one of the big dogs, a Rottweiler, began barking outside his door.
‘Their bark is worse than their bite,’ said Patrik, switching off the engine.
‘That’s what you think,’ replied Gösta, making no motion to open the door.
‘Come on.’ Patrik got out of the car but froze when three dogs surrounded him, baring their teeth and growling.
‘Call off the dogs,’ shouted Ulf. After a minute a man came out of the front door.
‘Why should I do that? They’re doing their job. Keeping uninvited visitors away.’ He crossed his arms with an amused smile.
‘Come on, Stefan. We’re just here to have a little talk. Call off the damn dogs.’
Stefan laughed, raised his hand to his lips, and whistled. The dogs stopped barking at once. They ran over to their master and lay down at his feet.
‘Satisfied?’
Patrik couldn’t help noticing that the leader of the IE was quite good looking. If it hadn’t been for the coldness in his eyes, he might even have been called handsome. His clothes detracted from that impression: worn jeans, a stained T-shirt, and black motorcycle vest. On his feet he wore wooden clogs.
More men began appearing, all of them with the same wary and hostile expression.
‘So what do you want? You’re on private property,’ said Stefan. He was following their every move.
‘We want to have a chat, that’s all,’ Ulf repeated, holding up his hands in the air. ‘We’re not here to make trouble.’
There was a moment’s pause while Stefan considered this. Nobody moved a muscle.
‘Okay, come in,’ Stefan told them at last, shrugging as if to say that he didn’t really care. He turned on his heel and walked towards the house.
Ulf, Javier, and Gösta took him at his word. His heart pounding in his chest, Patrik followed the others.
‘Have a seat.’ Stefan pointed to several armchairs standing next to a dirty glass coffee table. He sat down on an ostentatious leather sofa, stretching out his arms along the back. The table was covered with beer cans, pizza boxes, and cigarette butts, only some of them in the ashtray.
‘We didn’t have time to clean up,’ said Stefan with a grin. Then he turned serious. ‘What do you want?’
Ulf glanced at Patrik, who cleared his throat. He was feeling nervous, and that was putting it mildly, to find himself in the headquarters of a biker gang. But there was no turning back now.
‘We’re from the Tanumshede police,’ he said, noticing to his dismay that his voice was shaking. Not a lot, but enough to bring an amused glint to Stefan’s eyes. ‘We have a few questions with regard to an assault that took place back in February. On Erik Dahlbergsgatan. The man who was attacked was named Mats Sverin.’
Patrik paused while Stefan continued to stare at him.
‘And?’
‘According to a witness, he was assaulted by some men who wore your emblem on their backs.’
Stefan laughed scornfully and glanced at his men, who were keeping a close eye on the police officers from the far side of the room. They started laughing too.
‘So what does the guy have to say about it? What was his name? Max?’
‘Mats,’ said Patrik. It was obvious that the bikers were putting on a show, but he didn’t yet know enough to be able to puncture Stefan Ljungberg’s smug facade.
‘Oh, excuse me. So what does Mats have to say? Did he say it was us?’ Stefan stretched his arms out even further. It looked like he was taking up the whole sofa. One of the dogs came over and lay down at his feet.
‘No,’ Patrik said reluctantly. ‘No, he didn’t.’
‘All right then.’ Stefan grinned.
‘It seems a little strange that you haven’t asked who this man is that we’re talking about,’ said Ulf, trying to entice the dog to come over. Gösta stared at him as if he were crazy, but the dog got up and padded over to Ulf to have his ears scratched.
‘Lolita hasn’t learned to hate the smell of a cop,’ said Stefan. ‘But she will. And as far as this Mats is concerned, I can’t keep tabs on everybody. I’m a businessman and have contact with lots of people.’
‘He worked for an organization called the Refuge. Does that sound familiar?’
The longer they sat there, the more Patrik’s loathing for this man grew. He was finding this charade frustrating. Stefan knew exactly what they were talking about. It would have been better if they could have taken him down to the station so that the witness from Erik Dahlbergsgatan could identify him. Though they had no proof that Stefan had participated in the beating of Mats Sverin, Patrik was convinced that he had. Considering how personal the situation was, he didn’t think Stefan would have turned over the task to his thugs.
‘Refuge? No, never heard of it.’
‘That’s odd. Because they know you. Quite well, in fact.’ Patrik could feel himself boiling inside.
‘Is that so?’ said Stefan, feigning ignorance.
‘How’s Madeleine?’ asked Ulf. Lolita was now lying on her back so he could scratch her stomach.
‘You know what chicks are like. Things are a bit dodgy at the moment, but nothing that can’t be resolved.’
‘Dodgy?’ said Patrik tersely, and Ulf gave him a warning look.
‘Is she home?’ he asked.
Javier hadn’t said a word. He radiated sheer muscle power, and Patrik understood why Ulf had decided to bring him along.
‘Not at the moment,’ said Stefan. ‘But I’m sure she’ll be sorry to have missed you. Chicks love having visitors.’
He seemed totally calm, and Patrik had to restrain himself from punching the guy in the face.
Stefan got to his feet. Lolita instantly jumped up and crept over to her master. She pressed close to his legs, as if to apologize for leaving his side. Stefan leaned down to pat her.
‘If that’s all, I’ve got other things to do.’
Patrik still had a thousand questions to ask. About the cocaine, about Madeleine, about the Refuge, and about the murder. But Ulf gave him another warning glance and nodded towards the door. Patrik realized the other questions would have to wait.
‘I hope that guy’s okay. The one who was attacked, I mean. That sort of thing can be a bad business.’ Stefan stood in the doorway, waiting for them to leave.
Patrik stared at him. ‘He’s dead. Shot to death,’ he said, his face so close to Stefan’s that he could smell stale beer and cigarettes on his breath.
‘Shot?’
The grin was gone, and for a fraction of a second, Patrik saw a look of genuine surprise in Stefan’s eyes.
‘So was the house still standing when you got home last night?’ Konrad looked at Petra through the small, round lenses of his glasses.
‘Yeah, it was,’ said Petra, but she didn’t really seem to be listening. Her attention was focused on the computer screen. After a moment she rolled back her chair and turned to Konrad. ‘I’ve found something in the records. Wester’s wife owns property in Bohuslän, in the archipelago outside of …’ She leaned forward to read what it said. ‘Fjällbacka.’
‘That’s a great place. I’ve spent a cou
ple of summer holidays out there.’
Petra looked at Konrad in amazement. For some reason, she’d never really pictured him going on holiday. She had to bite her tongue to prevent herself asking who he’d gone there with.
‘Where is this place?’ asked Petra. ‘It looks like she owns a whole island. Called Gråskär.’
‘Between Uddevalla and Strömstad,’ said Konrad. He was going through Fredrik Wester’s phone records – both outgoing and incoming calls. It was tedious work, but it had to be done, and phones could be goldmines for criminal investigations. He doubted that they would find anything in this instance. These boys were too shrewd to leave any traces behind. They probably used a phone card that they threw away the minute anything risky took place. But it was worth a shot, and Konrad was known for his tenacity. If a clue was lurking in this endless list of phone calls, he would find it.
‘I haven’t managed to find a mobile number for her yet,’ said Petra. ‘So it would probably be faster to contact the police up there. If they have a police force, that is. It’s not exactly a big town. Maybe Göteborg is the closest station?’
‘Tanumshede,’ said Konrad as he continued to type in phone numbers to compare with the list. ‘The closest police station is in Tanumshede.’
‘Tanumshede? How come you know that?’
‘There was a big story in the papers a couple of days ago about a drug-related murder out that way.’ Konrad took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. After staring too long at the small type on the list, his eyes had begun to hurt.
‘Oh, so that sort of shit doesn’t only happen here in the big city.’
‘No, believe it or not there’s a whole world outside of Stockholm. I realize that may seem strange, but it’s a fact,’ said Konrad.
Petra had been born in Stockholm and she’d lived her whole life in the city. She rarely ventured north of Uppsala or south of Södertälje. ‘Is that so?’ she said. ‘And where do you come from?’ she added sarcastically. At the same time she realized it was odd that she didn’t know, given that they’d worked together for fifteen years. But it had never come up in conversation.
‘Gnosjö,’ replied Konrad, without taking his eyes off the phone list.
Petra stared at him. ‘In Småland? But you don’t have an accent.’
Konrad shrugged. Petra was about to ask another question but stopped herself. She had just learned where Konrad was from and where he’d spent his holidays. That was more than enough information for one day.
‘Gnosjö,’ she repeated with astonishment. Then she picked up the phone. ‘I’m going to call our colleagues in Tanumshede.’
Konrad merely nodded. He was deeply immersed in the world of numbers.
‘You look tired, sweetheart,’ Erica told Patrik, giving him a kiss. She was holding a baby in each arm, and he kissed his sons on the tops of their heads.
‘Yes, I’m feeling a bit worn out. How are things with you?’ he asked, looking guilty.
‘Everything’s fine, as a matter of fact.’ She was surprised to hear herself say that, but she really meant it. Everything had gone smoothly. Maja was at the day-care centre, and the twins had just had their bottles, so they were both content.
‘Was it worth the trip? How are Göran and Märta doing?’ she asked as she laid the twins down on a blanket. ‘There’s coffee if you’d like some.’
‘Thanks. That would be great.’ Patrik followed her to the kitchen. ‘I can only stay a short time. I have to get back to the station.’
‘Sit down for a few minutes and unwind,’ Erica said, practically shoving him down on to a kitchen chair. She set a cup of coffee in front of him, and he gratefully took a sip.
‘Look, I’ve even baked buns.’ She set a plate of buns, still warm from the oven, on the table.
‘Wow, I can’t believe it. Looks like you’re turning into a real homemaker, in spite of everything,’ said Patrik, but from the look on Erica’s face, he realized the joke wasn’t appreciated.
‘Okay, tell me what you found out,’ she said, joining him at the table.
Patrik gave her a summary of what had happened in Göteborg. A hint of resignation was evident in his voice.
‘And Göran and Märta are fine. They’re thinking of coming to visit us some weekend in the near future.’
Erica’s face lit up. ‘That would be wonderful! I’ll phone Göran this afternoon and we can agree on the date.’ Then she turned serious. ‘Something just occurred to me. Has anyone told Nathalie what happened to Gunnar?’
Patrik looked at Erica, realizing that she had a good point.
‘No, I don’t think so. Unless she phoned Signe.’
‘Signe is still in hospital. Apparently she’s not doing well at all.’
Patrik nodded. ‘Okay, I’ll ring Nathalie as soon as I get a chance.’
‘Good.’ Erica smiled. Then she got up, moved his coffee cup out of the way, and sat astride his lap. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him gently on the lips.
‘I missed you.’
‘Mmm, I missed you too,’ he said, wrapping his arms around her waist.
From the living room they could hear the twins prattling happily, and Patrik saw a familiar gleam in Erica’s eyes.
‘Is my sweet wife in the mood to accompany me upstairs for a while?’
‘Yes, please, dear sir. I would like that.’
‘So, what are we waiting for?’ Patrik stood up so abruptly that Erica almost fell off his lap. He took her hand and led her towards the stairs. But the moment he set his foot on the bottom step, his mobile rang. He fully intended to ignore it, but Erica stopped him.
‘Sweetheart, you need to take that call. It might be the station.’
‘They can wait,’ he said. ‘Because believe me, this isn’t going to take very long.’ He tugged at her hand again, yet she held back.
‘I’m not sure that’s much of a selling point,’ she said with a smile. ‘And you do have to answer the phone. You know that.’
Patrik sighed. He knew she was right, no matter how disappointed he was.
‘Will you give me a rain check?’ He went out to the front hall to get his mobile out of his jacket pocket.
‘With pleasure, dear sir,’ said Erica and curtseyed.
Patrik laughed as he answered the phone. He truly loved this dotty wife of his.
Mellberg was worried. It felt as if his whole life depended on resolving this matter. Rita was out taking a walk with Leo, and the girls were at work. He’d run home for a while to watch the sports programme. But for the first time ever, he was unable to concentrate on what was happening on TV. Instead, he found himself paying attention to all the thoughts racing through his mind.
Suddenly he gave a start. By God, he had the solution. It was right in front of his nose. He rushed out of the flat and down the stairs to the office on the ground floor. Alvar Nilsson was sitting behind his desk.
‘Hi, Mellberg!’
‘Hi.’ Mellberg gave him a big smile.
‘What’s going on? Are you here to keep me company?’ Alvar opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a bottle of whisky.
Mellberg fought a silent battle with himself, but it ended as it always did.
‘Sure, what the hell,’ he said, sitting down.
Alvar handed him a glass.
‘There’s something I want to talk to you about.’ Mellberg swirled the whisky in his glass, taking a moment to savour the sight before sipping it.
‘Is that so? What can I do for you?’
‘The girls have decided that they want a flat of their own.’
Alvar looked amused. The ‘girls’ were both over thirty.
‘That usually happens in these situations.’ He leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head.
‘The thing is, Rita and I don’t want them to move too far away.’
‘I can understand that. But it’s hard to find flats in Tanumshede at the moment.’
‘That’s e
xactly why I thought you might be able to help.’ Mellberg leaned forward and fixed his eyes on Alvar.
‘Me? You know what the situation is here. All the flats in the building are occupied. There’s not so much as a cubbyhole that I could offer you.’
‘But there’s a very nice three-room flat immediately below ours.’
Alvar gave him a surprised look.
‘But the only three-room flat in the building is …’ He fell silent. Then he shook his head. ‘Not on your life. No, that’s impossible. Bente would never agree.’ Alvar craned his neck and glanced nervously in the direction of the next room, where his Norwegian secretary and secret mistress was usually sitting at the desk.
‘That’s not my problem. But it might be yours.’ Mellberg lowered his voice. ‘I don’t think your wife Kerstin would appreciate this little … arrangement of yours.’
Alvar glared at Mellberg, who experienced a momentary discomfort. If he’d made a mistake, Alvar could throw him out of the office head first. He held his breath. Then Alvar started to laugh.
‘My God, Mellberg. You drive a hard bargain. But let’s not allow a woman to get in the way of our friendship. We’ll solve this thing. I have a few contacts, and I’m sure I can fix Bente up somewhere else. Shall we set the move-in date for a month from now? But I don’t intend paying for any sort of painting or repairs. You’ll have to handle that yourselves. Agreed?’ He held out his hand.
Mellberg breathed a sigh of relief and shook hands with Alvar.
‘I knew I could count on you,’ he said. His stomach was bubbling with joy. Leo might be moving out, but only one floor down. He’d be able to run downstairs and see the boy as often as he liked.
‘I think we should celebrate with another drink. What do you say?’
Mellberg held out his glass.
A frenzy of activity was going on at Badis, but Vivianne felt as if she were moving in slow motion. So many things had to be finished, so much had to be decided. But she couldn’t stop thinking about Anders’s evasive answers. He was keeping something from her, and that had opened up an abyss between them, so wide and deep that she could hardly see to the other side.
‘Where should we put the buffet tables?’ A waitress was giving her an enquiring look, and she was forced to pay attention.
The Lost Boy (Patrick Hedstrom and Erica Falck, Book 7) Page 40
