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

by MacLeod, Torquil

  ‘I understand what you’re saying. However, we need to know about Tommy Ekman,’ prompted Anita, whom Nordlund was happy to let lead the questioning.

  ‘Tommy Ekman. Smooth Tommy Ekman. I thought he had hired me because of my excellent track record. I soon discovered he was less interested in my mental attributes and more interested in my physical ones. I’d only been at E&J a few days when he hit on me. That’s when I invented a husband. It didn’t keep him at bay for long. Suggestive remarks when we were alone and endless flirty emails. Then he called me in for a late meeting one evening a couple of months ago. He’d been out with clients all afternoon on a boozy lunch. He must have topped that off with a lot more drink when he got back. He tried it on again. It was easy enough to fend him off, as he was very drunk. Then he started coming out with things about some group he was in. All to do with Gustav Adolf. It didn’t make much sense. He burbled on about how he and his powerful friends were going to take Sweden back for the Swedes, as it had been in the golden age of Gustav Adolf the Great. It was a side of him that no one in the company had seen. We all thought he was apolitical. But that evening the mask dropped. I don’t know whether he thought I’d be impressed or if he was just showing off, but he unlocked a drawer in a cabinet he kept in his office. He produced this canister. He was so proud of the bloody thing. Said he’d bought it off a dealer on a business trip to Germany. I couldn’t believe it when I twigged what it was. It was horrifying. And he just thought it was funny. It didn’t occur to him that I might have Jewish blood. Mind you, it hadn’t occurred to me that Tommy was a fascist, racist or whatever. It was the first time I’d heard him express any political views before.’

  ‘And after?’ asked Anita.

  ‘Not after either. He came to me the next day in a panic and said I was to forget about what I’d seen or I’d never get a job in advertising again.’

  ‘But you didn’t.’

  ‘No. After the initial revulsion, I became angry. I wanted to find out more. Late one evening, when the building was empty, I went to his office and got on his computer. I found the Sjätte November folder. I downloaded it onto a memory stick.’

  ‘It makes interesting reading.’ Anita’s first reaction to what they’d found in Ekman’s files, downloaded from Marklund’s computer, had been one of disbelief. The information would send shock waves around Sweden. The people mentioned had been above suspicion, which is why the group hadn’t registered with the national police monitoring right-wing organizations.

  ‘Oh, yes. Such respected, wealthy men planning to change the face of Sweden. Using their money to spread fear. Paying people – including young Muslims - to hound an increasingly frightened Jewish community. As a cop, you must know more than most how difficult it is for Jews to live in Malmö at the moment. And then fermenting trouble amongst the immigrant populace, particularly Muslim. They paid agitators. Every incident is catalogued. I’m sure you’ve cross-checked the dates?’ They had.

  ‘Why are all the activities referred to taking place here in Malmö?’

  ‘I assume it’s because all the names on the list live here in Skåne. They have to start their revolution somewhere. And we have a large immigrant population in Malmö. Strangely, if you read the material from their meetings and correspondence, they don’t seem to be archetypical neo-Nazis and racists. Or certainly they don’t think of themselves as such. In their eyes they’re not fascist Swedes like Per Engdahl or Sven Olov Lindholm in the past. They see themselves as patriots - saviours of Sweden and its values. More like medieval knights on a crusade, or warriors following their hero, Gustav Adolf, and building an empire everyone would look up to. What they seem to have forgotten is that welcoming refugees to Sweden is an integral part of our contribution to civilization. It was only Tommy who seemed to have true Nazi tendancies, though he kept that well concealed. Hence the hidden Zyklon B. Even then it was like an exciting game to him.’

  Anita got out her snus tin. She offered it to Marklund, who shook her head. Anita took a sachet and glanced at Nordlund.

  ‘When did you decide to kill Tommy Ekman?’

  Marklund paused before speaking. It was as though she wanted to get the story right so that they could understand why she had done what she had.

  ‘At first I wanted to do something about what I’d found out, but didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘Why didn’t you come to us?’

  Marklund snorted in derision. ‘The police! You’re joking. For all I know, you’re in Wollstad’s pocket. Everything would have been covered up. The group have untold wealth. They can buy silence and make things or people disappear. Or at least they could. But not now. Now, I can have my day in court and they – or the police - can’t shut me up.’

  Her calmness cracked as she squeezed the water bottle tightly. For the first time, Anita could see the vehemence, the passion, the anger and the hatred in those smouldering brown eyes. For the first time she could really imagine this woman as a murderer.

  ‘We’re here to uphold justice,’ put in Nordlund.

  She gave Nordlund a scathing glare. ‘Even after this, you’ll never bring Dag Wollstad to account.’

  ‘We will if we discover he’s behind this. Inciting civil unrest is a serious crime,’ Anita said with conviction. ‘Back to Ekman, please.’

  ‘What made up my mind was that disgusting cleric. On the film.’

  They had recovered a copy at Marklund’s home.

  ‘The bile he came out with, so cold and calculating. You’ve seen it. Tommy even filmed that with equipment from the agency. The cleric went on about the Holocaust and how it hadn’t really happened. Just clever Zionist PR. I was so consumed by bitterness and revulsion, but I felt powerless to do anything. All I could think about was my grandmother and what she had been through, and how her parents had died. And then, suddenly, I thought I knew what I had to do. Do to them what they pretended hadn’t happened to the Jews. I had a list of leading members of the group. They were only initials but I worked them out from other notes in Tommy’s files. I read up about Zyklon B and worked out how I could use it. It helped that I’d studied chemistry at university before I decided advertising was more glamorous.’ Her background should have been checked out more thoroughly, thought Anita.

  ‘Then, a few days before, Tommy told me he’d be at home by himself on the night of the pitch. Wife and children away. He suggested that I should pop round for a drink. He was never very subtle. I said I’d think about it, though I had no intention of taking him up on his offer. Then, I realized he was presenting me with an opportunity.’

  ‘You knew about his spare set of house keys.’

  ‘Nearly everybody did. I also remembered where the key was to the cabinet where he kept the Zyklon B. The canister was easy enough to pinch. I erased all “The November 6th Group” files the day after Tommy was poisoned, so you wouldn’t find any information before I had a chance to get to the others. I didn’t dare go in the day he actually died in case I gave myself away.’ She pulled a face. ‘I’m not used to killing people. So I took a sick day. You know the rest.’

  ‘I think so. But just let me get this straight. When you left the agency early, ostensively to go to the pharmacist’s on the way Geistrand Petfoods, you picked up your car from near the station and then drove directly to Ekman’s apartment?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You let yourself in, found his bedroom and put the crystals in the en suite shower.’

  ‘I figured it would be the one he’d use.’

  ‘There’s something that’s still bugging me. Why did you make love to Ekman?’

  Marklund blew out her cheeks and smiled. ‘It wasn’t meant to happen. I had to hang around during the celebration drink so that I could put his spare house keys back. I didn’t get an opportunity before. I knew that if they were missing, then you would conclude that it was someone from the agency. When we were alone, he thought he’d forgotten his house keys and was about to go into the drawer. To distract h
im I seduced him. Well, it wasn’t as though he needed much encouragement. So we did it on the desk. Afterwards, he went off to the bathroom to sort himself out and I put the keys back. The ironic thing is that he found his normal keys in his briefcase and didn’t go into the drawer after all.

  ‘Afterwards, I realized that you’d probably discover that we’d made love, and that you would draw the conclusion that, having done so, I was very unlikely to have killed him. Especially if I seemed horrified at the thought of my “husband” finding out.’

  ‘It worked very well. You were discounted early on.’ Anita caught Marklund’s eye. ‘Didn’t it make you feel guilty having sex with someone whose life you were about to end?’

  ‘No.’ Her denial was flat and unemotional. ‘He died the same way as his sick heroes dispatched millions. I hope he suffered as much as they did.’

  Anita put away her snus tin.

  ‘OK. Martin Olofsson?’

  ‘I used to jog in the areas where I knew the main members of the group lived. I got to know their evening routines. Olofsson was fairly simple. I’d expected him the evening before. He obviously stayed an extra night over in Österlen. I’d have liked to have gassed him too, but modern cars aren’t much use any more. So I hit him with a spanner. You won’t find it. It’s somewhere out there in the Öresund. Then I made it look like a gassing. The Nazis used carbon monoxide to kill many of their victims in specially designed vans.’

  ‘But it was obvious that it wasn’t a suicide.’

  ‘It wasn’t meant to fool you. I wanted to send a message to the others in “The November 6th Group”. Someone is coming to get you. It frightened off Ander Genmar. He disappeared somewhere.’

  ‘Spain.’

  ‘Ah. And I couldn’t find Lennart Persson.’

  ‘That gives us our LP. Who’s he?’

  ‘He owns half the warehouses in Sweden. Very rich.’

  Anita shifted in her chair. She nodded to Nordlund to carry on.

  ‘So, Ingvar Serneholt was your next victim?’

  Marklund stroked her right earlobe thoughtfully. ‘He should have been.’

  ‘What do you mean “should have been”?’

  ‘I did go out to his place a couple of times to work out how I was going to kill him. Then someone beat me to it. I don’t—’

  ‘Hang on,’ interrupted Anita. ‘Are you saying you weren’t responsible for Ingvar Serneholt’s murder?’

  ‘No. Someone did me a favour.’

  ‘But you were seen there that night. The jogger.’

  ‘Oh, I was there all right. But Serneholt had a visitor.’

  ‘Did you see who it was?’

  ‘No. But I was surprised that he was entertaining someone with such a crappy car. I thought he only mixed with the Porsche set.’

  ‘What was the make of the car?’

  ‘Citroën.’

  ‘Colour?’

  ‘Difficult to tell in that light. Brown... green. Could even have been dark blue.’

  This piece of information had Anita’s mind racing. She thought she knew whose car it might be. It wasn’t a happy thought.

  Nordlund broke the silence.

  ‘And what were you going to do about Dag Wollstad?’

  ‘He was the biggest fish. To be perfectly honest, I hadn’t the faintest idea how I was going to get him.’ She spun the water bottle round in her hands. ‘But, thanks to you, I know now. You’ve given me a platform.’

  Nordlund looked at Anita. She nodded.

  ‘I think that’s all for now, Elin. We’ll need to get this down as a full statement.’

  Anita leant over and switched off the tape recording. She and Nordlund got up out of their chairs. Nordlund went to the door and opened it. A female uniformed officer came in to keep an eye on Marklund.

  Anita stopped by the door.

  ‘One other thing. Tommy Ekman refers to some event or series of events that he was masterminding. Something to make people sit up and take notice. But there’s nothing specific in the files. Just hinted at.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure myself. That was until the “Malmö Marksman” started his shooting spree.’

  CHAPTER 42

  The early morning sun tried its hardest to shine through the window of Anita’s car. All it really did was show up how dirty it had become since she’d given the vehicle a wash. She couldn’t remember when that was and promised herself to give it a thorough clean when she got home. There were so many domestic tasks she had neglected recently. Like finishing her bathroom. It was ludicrous to have such mundane thoughts when there was so much at stake. The last twenty-four hours had been hectic. Many discussions had taken place – many important decisions had been made. In the next few hours the cases should be resolved, if she had got her thinking right. She felt all the nervous tension of a sprinter on the starting blocks. Nordlund was next to her and Hakim sat fidgeting in the back. All of them were armed. She wasn’t going to let Hakim be exposed if the situation flared up this time. The car in front contained Chief Inspector Moberg, Westermark and Wallen. Behind her were three police cars with uniformed officers – two from Malmö and the other from Ystad. This was their patch, and Moberg, for once adhering to protocol, didn’t want to rub the local force up the wrong way by keeping them out of the loop. The five cars were parked on a quiet country lane near Illstorp. They had a search warrant and a warrant for the arrest of Dag Wollstad on charges relating to conspiracy and incitement to violence.

  Anita had reported back to Moberg straight after her interview with Elin Marklund. The whole team had gathered together and listened as the tape was played back. The confession added flesh to the bones that had been taken off Marklund’s computer. One thing was unequivocal - Wollstad was heavily involved. Possibly the driving force. There was a series of emails between Ekman and Wollstad which left no doubt.

  What hadn’t been on the tape was Marklund’s view that the “event or events” referred to by Ekman in one email to Wollstad was the work of the “Malmö Marksman”. This piece of news had been greeted with a shocked silence. Larsson had then been brought on board. Though they now knew the gunman was one David Löfblad, there was no mobile on him or personal ID. However, Larsson agreed that it made sense if he had been summoned down from the north to do each “job” – the word he’d used to Anita on the station platform. That would fit in with his disappearance after each shooting. Then he’d go back home. Far from being a local man as they had believed, he came and went as he was instructed. He was pointed in the direction of immigrant targets. The last attack at Möllevångstorget was an obvious one, given the ethnic market and usual customers. There would be a “safe house” provided for his use. The police up north had been through Löfblad’s phone records and there was nothing to tie him into Wollstad or any of the others in “The November 6th Group”. They had been cleverer than that. He had bought at least four pay-as-you-go mobile phones lately in Umeå. None were found. He must have dumped each one after he had received his orders. A search of Wollstad’s house might produce the evidence they needed.

  Last night there had been a high level meeting with Commissioner Dahlbeck and Prosecutor Sonya Blom, with frequent calls to national headquarters in Stockholm. Both were extremely nervous about moving against such a high-profile and influential figure as Wollstad. But the evidence against him was so compelling that they had reluctantly agreed to send Moberg in with a warrant for his arrest. Moberg was delighted. He would enjoy his next meeting with the arrogant Wollstad. The whole team was excited. They were on the point of blowing wide open a dangerous organization committed to causing civil unrest that might have operated for years without being detected. The only person who was subdued and seemed lost in a world of his own was Karl Westermark. Anita assumed that he resented her success. He had been right about the Ekman and Olofsson murders being connected – just wrong about the reason. It was she who had arrested the killer – not him. He had hardly spoken a word at the final briefing and had slipped aw
ay as soon as it had finished. That morning, as they gathered at the Polishus, he was preoccupied. No barbed comment, no lecherous leer, no gung-ho cockiness. Anita should have hated herself for it, but underneath she was rather pleased that Westermark seemed to be suffering.

  At eleven o’clock Moberg got a call – they had been given the official go-ahead from the commissioner. With a broad grin he started up his car, and for the last couple of kilometres the rest followed in convoy, and then swept up the long drive. The officers poured out of the cars and, led by the massive frame of the chief inspector, headed for the main door. He was about to open it unannounced when Kristina Ekman appeared at the entrance. She was smartly dressed in expensive casual slacks and a short-sleeved floral top. Her blonde hair was pinned up. She was every inch the “ice maiden” that Moberg had come to regard her as.

  ‘Fru Ekman, we have come to see your father. We have a warrant for his arrest. If you’ll stand aside, we can go about our business.’

  Her look was mocking.

  ‘You’re too late, Chief Inspector. My father isn’t here. In fact, he’s no longer in the country.’

  ‘Where is he?’ Moberg bellowed.

  ‘I have no idea.’

  Moberg furiously brushed past her and barked out an order to search the house from top to bottom.

  Over the next two hours the house was turned upside down. All the computers were impounded, files were boxed up and taken out and every member of the household was questioned. A van arrived to take all the potential evidence back to Malmö. The staff knew nothing, except that their employer had left in the early hours of the morning. Just before one, Moberg got a call on his mobile. Wollstad had left on his private jet, which he kept at Sturup airport, just after five that morning. The destination was logged as Malaga. The plane had spent an hour on the tarmac in southern Spain. After refuelling, it took off again. Spanish air traffic control had no record of where it was heading. Moberg stamped his foot in frustration.

  At quarter past one he called a halt and they began to leave the estate. Moberg gathered together Anita, Nordlund, Westermark, Wallen and Hakim in front of the house. ‘The bastard has evaded us. He’ll be holed out where there’s no extradition treaty, you can sure of that. He has companies all over the world, so I’m sure he’ll live out his days in comfort.’ He was seething. ‘What really pisses me off is that someone back in Malmö must have tipped him off. That bitch Kristina was expecting us. Someone’s in Wollstad’s pocket and I’ll kill the shit if I ever get hold of whoever it is. I’ll be amazed if we find anything. They’ve had all night to get rid of any evidence.’ He could hardly bring himself to speak. ‘Come on!’