Murder in Malmö: The second Inspector Anita Sundström mystery (Inspector Anita Sundström mysteries)

by MacLeod, Torquil

  CHAPTER 18

  Hakim was reading a copy of Sydsvenskan while Anita drove in the direction of Limhamn. The paper was full of last night’s killing of a young Libyan man in Gustav Adolfs Torg. The murder of Martin Olofsson had disappeared into the inside pages, for which Anita was grateful. The “Malmö Marksman”, as the press had now dubbed him, was causing panic. It hadn’t mattered so much when he was picking off immigrants in out-of-the-way suburbs, but to kill someone in one of the busiest locations in the city was a different matter. While the motive was again obviously racial, it was little comfort for the citizens of Malmö that there was a trigger-happy gunman on the loose. It was certainly winding up Hakim, who was cursing under his breath.

  ‘It’s a disgrace. This gunman is targeting the immigrant population. My parents are afraid to go out of the apartment. You know the second shooting was a few yards away from our home.’

  ‘I didn’t realize.’

  ‘And how many Swedes will secretly be thinking he’s doing a good job!’

  ‘Look, Hakim, we’ve got to be professional about this, whatever we feel. Inspector Larsson will be given the manpower to catch this guy. We’ve got our own murder on our hands – and the Munk business to sort out. They are our priorities.’

  Hakim grunted and returned to his newspaper. Anita couldn’t help smiling to herself. She was sounding like a mother talking to a son, not colleague to colleague. She appreciated being with Hakim all the more after a quick meeting with the loathsome Westermark in his office first thing. She had reported back to him what she had found out from Carolina Olofsson. She had explained that she had wanted to re-interview fru Olofsson when she’d got over her initial shock. Westermark had been to Olofsson’s place of work, Sydöstra Banken on Torggatan, which was only just along from the scene of the shooting in Gustav Adolfs Torg. The senior staff were horrified to hear of the murder. He was well respected and very good at his job. They couldn’t think of anything that he was working on that might lead someone to kill him. Like Anita, Westermark was going to return to the bank to ask more questions, though he felt, like Moberg, that the motive was probably more likely to be personal than professional.

  Nor much luck either with Lindegren’s bank – a local Handelsbanken. Lindegren’s finances seemed to be in a “robust shape”, according to the manager that Hakim had spoken to. So that route was a dead end. Anita had asked Hakim to set up a meeting with the Munk collector Gabrielsson had mentioned, Ingvar Serneholt. Again it might be a waste of time, but, as they hadn’t got a single lead to go on, they had to give it a go.

  They reached Vikingagatan at exactly half-past ten.

  The clock in the interview room read 10.31. Daniel Johansson didn’t look relaxed at all. The intimidating presence of Chief Inspector Moberg on the other side of the table didn’t help calm his unease. Even Moberg’s reassurance that it was merely a routine chat didn’t help.

  ‘Daniel,’ Moberg said pleasantly. ‘I can call you Daniel?’

  Johansson nodded dubiously.

  ‘Just because we want a few words with you here is nothing to worry about. I thought it might be easier to talk about things away from the office. Get a sense of perspective. We appreciate that it must be difficult for you at the moment trying to run the company without its founder.’

  ‘Co-founder,’ Johansson couldn’t help himself correcting, almost as a verbal reflex action.

  ‘Whatever. We’re concentrating our investigation on the day before Tommy Ekman died. We think his spare keys were taken from his office by the murderer and then returned later that day. We’ve accounted for nearly everybody who had access – or was known to enter Ekman’s office during that time. You obviously come into that category.’ Moberg’s raised eyebrow indicated that he expected Johnasson to say something.

  ‘Well, yes. I was in Tommy’s office that morning to go through the Geistrand Petfoods presentation. And again, I was in there for the celebratory drink.’

  Moberg glanced down at a piece of paper. ‘It’s all here in your statement. But there’s something missing?’

  Johansson shifted in his seat, though he managed to return a quizzical stare.

  ‘You returned from Geistrand’s in Elin Marklund’s car.’

  ‘Yes,’ Johansson answered slowly.

  ‘Why was that? And where did you go before you returned to the office?’ There was nothing pleasant in Moberg’s tone now.

  ‘I went home.’

  ‘And that’s Salongsgatan up by the Torso. Why go home?’

  Moberg could feel the vibration from Johansson’s feet as they tapped the floor under the table. He could smell the nervous tension.

  ‘I went to collect a computer stick. With all the presentation business, I’d forgotten it. I had work on it that I needed for the studio that afternoon. Stuff I’d done at home.’

  ‘Did anybody see you?’

  ‘I don’t know. Middle of the day; not many people are about.’

  ‘Neighbours?’

  ‘No. I live alone and don’t go out much. It’s the work I love.’

  Moberg spread his mighty hands palm down on the table. ‘So, in theory, you could have gone to Ekman’s apartment, placed the crystals and—‘

  ‘What crystals?’

  ‘The poisonous gas crystals that the murderer put in Ekman’s shower. The crystals that ensured he had a horrible death.’

  Johansson appeared appalled. ‘Shit. Is that how Tommy died?’

  ‘Oh, yes. And you’ve no alibi, have you Daniel?’

  Johansson adjusted his designer spectacles. ‘Why? Why would I want to do such a thing?’

  ‘I don’t know. You tell me.’

  ‘It’s ridiculous.’

  Moberg inspected his fingers for a moment. ‘What percentage of the company do you own?’

  ‘Twenty-five percent.’

  ‘So, Tommy had seventy-five percent.’

  ‘No. Dag Wollstad had a share too. Tommy brought him on board as a silent partner.’

  ‘But now?’

  ‘I’ll get...’ He stopped.

  ‘Controlling interest?’

  Johansson screwed up his eyes. ‘Partly. But I would still have to consult with Wollstad, or possibly Kristina Ekman, about important issues. I couldn’t sell the company without his say-so, for example.’

  ‘But your financial return is going to be far higher.’

  ‘Yes, but we still have to bring in the clients. And Tommy was one of the main reasons we were successful in the first place.’

  Moberg opened a folder and pulled out a glossy brochure. He idly flicked through it. ‘I see in your company brochure that one of your clients is Buckley Mellor Chemicals.’

  ‘They’re British. Their headquarters are in Warrington in England. But they have a plant over here. We don’t do any advertising as such for them, but we designed a new website for the Swedish end of the operation a couple of months ago.’

  ‘And what do they specialize in?’

  ‘Pesticides are their main business over here. Agricultural use mainly, some domestic. Slug pellets. That sort of thing.’

  ‘Poisonous things?’

  Johansson contemplated the question for a moment. ‘I suppose so.’

  Moberg snapped the brochure shut. ‘Fine. You can go, Daniel.’

  Johansson couldn’t hide his relief as he almost jumped up from his seat.

  Moberg pointed towards the door. ‘Can you find your own way out?’

  ‘Yes. No problem.’ Johansson reached the door and opened it. Then he checked himself. ‘If you’re interested in Buckley Mellor Chemicals, have a word with our financial director, Bo Nilsson. He worked there before he came to us.’

  Moberg got up almost as quickly as Johansson had done. ‘Didn’t Bo Nilsson work for one of Dag Wollstad’s companies?’

  ‘Yeah. Buckley Mellor is part of Wollstad Industries.’

  Anita and Hakim came away from the front door of the Olofsson house and exchanged glances o
f resignation. Carolina Olofsson was still deeply upset, and there was nothing that she said in answer to Anita’s questions that shed any light on a possible personal motive for murder – or murderer. The bank was something else. Carolina knew very little about her husband’s responsibilities. She was one of those wives who had never had to work. Anita found it difficult to sympathize with such women.

  They were near the gates when a voice called.

  ‘Excuse me, Inspector.’

  Olofsson’s daughter, Sofie, had come round from the back of the house. Throughout the interview she had sat on the sofa next to her mother, holding her hand. She hadn’t said much at the time other than to confirm what her mother was saying.

  ‘I wanted a word without my mother hearing.’

  Anita nodded to her and they walked into the side street beyond the gate, out of sight of the house. Sofie took after her father in build, though she had the pretty face that her mother must have had in her prime. Anita knew from their introductions that Sofie was a doctor.

  ‘There’s something my mother didn’t tell you.’

  ‘And what is that?’

  ‘It’s difficult. In the last few months Dad seemed more preoccupied. He went out a lot, especially when they were over in Vik. ‘

  ‘He liked golf,’ said Anita.

  ‘I know. But Mamma said this was different. He was evasive. The occasional secretive phone call that he’d say was just business.’

  ‘May well have been.’

  ‘What Mamma couldn’t fathom was a suppressed excitement. A bounce in his step. She started to think that maybe...’

  ‘Another woman?’ Anita ventured.

  ‘Yes. She didn’t mention it to you because it was only a suspicion. And she finds the whole thing embarrassing. Especially in front of strangers. I think I’m the only person she’s mentioned it to. Not even to my brothers.’

  ‘So, if there is a mystery woman, she’s more likely to be over in Österlen than here in Malmö?’

  ‘That’s what Mamma thought. Though it would have been easier for him to have an affair over here because Mamma spends a lot of time in the cottage by herself when he’s in town, particularly in the summer.’

  ‘I know this is hard for you, but did your father have other affairs in the past that you are aware of?’

  ‘No. Never. I’m sure of that.’

  Anita regarded the girl who was having to come to terms with the shocking death of her father and also having to face up to the possibility that he had been unfaithful to a mother she so clearly adored.

  ‘Thank you. That might be very helpful.’

  ‘Inspector. You will catch the person who did this terrible thing?’

  Anita reached out a hand and touched Sofie’s arm. It was a gesture of reassurance. It wasn’t an answer.

  Westermark’s enigmatic grin worried Anita. What was he up to? He had called the meeting in his office on her return from the Olofsson household to discuss “his murder case”. That in itself was enough to raise Anita’s hackles. What made it worse was that he had asked Moberg to attend so that the chief inspector was fully up to speed. Westermark opened the meeting as though he were chairman of some highfalutin company board. He graciously gave Anita the floor to explain what she had come up with. Her diminished role within the team was plain to see.

  ‘I didn’t get anything of much value from the wife, but then the daughter, Sofie, wanted to speak to me without her mother around. Apparently, in the last few months Carolina Olofsson believed that her husband might be having an affair. It’s not something she wanted to discuss with me, particularly as he is now on a cold slab in Lund. Dirty linen in public and—’

  ‘Anything concrete?’ Westermark interrupted.

  Hakim saw that Anita was finding it hard to disguise her irritation before she answered. ‘No.’

  ‘It’s an angle that we must investigate,’ he added absently without any enthusiasm. It was obviously a lead he wasn’t interested in.

  ‘It might provide a motive. Spurned lover. Lover’s husband. It was you and the chief inspector who were sure that the motive was personal.’

  ‘That’s fine. I said look into it.’ Westermark couldn’t get the impatience out of his voice. Anita couldn’t work out why he failed to see that this was a valid route. She soon discovered why.

  Westermark languidly leant back in his seat and rested the crown of his head in his intertwined fingers. ‘I’ve had a very profitable meeting at Sydöstra Banken this morning.’ He brought his hands down slowly and placed them on his desk. His pleased-as-Punch smile was directed at Moberg. ‘There are significant connections between Martin Olofsson and Tommy Ekman.’

  Moberg broke his silence. ‘Well?’

  ‘Sydöstra Banken recently had a review of their advertising. Guess who won the business? Ekman & Johansson! Martin Olofsson wasn’t anything to do with the marketing department, but it was he who recommended that they speak to the agency.’

  ‘It’s a bit tenuous,’ said Moberg.

  ‘That’s not the only connection. One of Sydöstra Banken’s principal clients is Dag Wollstad. And who was Wollstad’s main point of contact at the bank? None other than Martin Olofsson.’

  Moberg sighed. ‘Everywhere we turn we can’t escape Wollstad. Both murders have a direct connection to him. Of course, that may be coincidental. On the other hand, the financial director at the agency is another Wollstad man. And one that used to work for a chemical company owned by Wollstad Industries. I need to speak to him soon.’

  ‘It makes you wonder whether Wollstad wanted Ekman and Olofsson out of the way for some reason.’

  ‘The only thing that nags at me,’ said Moberg, ‘is that the deaths are so dissimilar. If you hire a hitman, then you would expect the murders to be carried out in the same way; not an obscure poisoning and then hitting someone over the head before making a feeble attempt to pass it off as suicide.’

  ‘Unless it was deliberately done so we wouldn’t connect the two.’

  Anita felt like a bystander, which is what she assumed Westermark wanted.

  ‘Right.’ Moberg turned to Westermark. ‘If there’s the possibility of a link, I want you to look into it further. I’ll continue with Henrik and Klara Wallen on the Ekman case. We may find connections at our end. Anita, you and...’ he said waving at Hakim.

  ‘Hakim’, answered Hakim.

  ‘You two look into the mystery woman. Anything you find, report back to Westermark and he’ll come to me. By the way, how are you getting on with the painting business? Despite all the mayhem going on, the commissioner was still wittering on about it yesterday.’

  ‘We haven’t got any real leads yet,’ Anita admitted.

  ‘Well, bloody well find some!’

  Anita got the impression that Westermark had been waiting for her to appear in the car park. It was just too convenient that they “bumped” into each other. There was no escape, as he was between her and her car. He flicked away his cigarette and there was that supercilious smirk again. He had one of those faces that women either wanted to smother in love or slap in hatred.

  ‘So, what are your plans for my Olofsson investigation?’

  Anita put her hand into her bag and fished around for her car keys. She kept him waiting for an answer until she had eventually managed to locate them in a side pocket.

  ‘I’ll go over to Vik tomorrow and make enquiries. That’s if you think that’s a good idea,’ she added sarcastically.

  ‘Fine by me. As long as you keep me informed.’ He stroked his clean-shaven chin. ‘We should work closely together on this case, Anita.’

  ‘Not as close as you would like.’

  ‘Wrong end of the stick as usual. I’m only trying to help you. You need to work well on this one to restore your reputation. If you help me get a result, then it’ll look good for you.’ He waved up at the huge expanse of the police headquarters building behind them. ‘People round here might start to forgive you.’

 
‘Karl, you’re just so full of shit.’

  The smile disappeared instantly. ‘Just don’t get snotty with me.’ He then allowed the smile to re-emerge, but there was no humour or warmth in it. ‘We could be good for each other. Just think about it.’ The implication was clear. It made Anita feel ill. Westermark was turning into a caricature. It would have been funny if Anita didn’t feel she was in such a weak position. Her standing in the team had been undermined by her own actions and Westermark had exploited it. He now had the power to make or break her.

  She walked past Westermark to her car and unlocked the driver’s side door.

  ‘Maybe we should have a drink sometime?’

  Anita opened the door. ‘Probably not a good idea.’

  ‘Then we could discuss why you still have Martin Olofsson’s briefcase.’

  This stopped Anita in her tracks. She had meant to bring it in, but had forgotten. It was still in her living room.

  ‘There are papers in there that the bank wants back. When I checked, Thulin said she gave the briefcase to you. Doesn’t look good stashing away possible evidence. You’re not playing a very good game so far, are you? I want it on my desk first thing in the morning.’

  CHAPTER 19

  Anita’s brush with Westermark was still preying on her mind when they turned into Ingvar Serneholt’s short drive. It was fifteen minutes out of Malmö between Staffanstorp and Dalby. The sprawling house was set by itself and surrounded by sweeping lawns. A number of pitched roofs indicated that this 1920s home had had plenty of additions over the intervening years. You wouldn’t get a place like this for under seven million kronor these days. Hakim hadn’t been able to find out much about Serneholt. He was in his early fifties and unmarried. He presumably had a private income, as he didn’t appear to have a job. The family had been involved in the safety match business at some stage, which is where the money must have come from.

  After ringing the doorbell a number of times, the man who answered certainly wasn’t like the effete collector she had imagined. He had a towel thrown over his shoulder. His hair was still wet. He wore a white t-shirt and a pair of colourful Bermuda shorts. His hair and stubbly beard were starting to grey and there had been no attempt to conceal the aging process with unattractive dye. He was more faded Californian beach boy than art connoisseur.