Motive X

by Stefan Ahnhem

  Tuvesson shook her head. ‘Not that we know.’

  ‘All right, this might sound stupid. But if there are no external injuries and we don’t know the cause of death, how come you’re so convinced it’s murder? Why wouldn’t our first guess be that she died of heart failure or suffered from a severe case of diabetes?’

  ‘Believe me. I really wish it was an epileptic fit or a stroke. Unfortunately, that’s just not it. We can’t be one hundred per cent certain, of course, but there are things that point to someone taking her life.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as the fact that she went to the police in Landskrona just before closing time last Wednesday to file a report,’ Fabian said.

  ‘Report about what?’

  ‘It’s not entirely clear, because it was never completed. As far as I can make out, she seemed to have felt someone was following her. Unfortunately, the officer in charge took neither his job nor her very seriously, so in the end, as far as I understand, she gave up and left the station in a fury.’

  ‘Following as in stalking?’ Lilja asked.

  Fabian nodded. ‘The problem is she couldn’t give a description because she never saw the person in question. It was simply a “feeling” she had in the days before she died. The officer’s put his personal comments in the margins of the report, describing her as hysterical, incoherent and an attention whore.’

  Lilja shook her head.

  ‘And why are we doubting his assessment?’ Klippan said.

  ‘Because of this.’ Fabian took out and passed around a printout of the picture from Molly Wessman’s mobile, in which she was sleeping soundly on her back in her own bed. ‘According to the report, the alarm on her phone woke her up as usual, but when she picked it up to turn it off, she discovered her background image had been changed to this photograph.’

  ‘I’ve examined the phone,’ Molander put in. ‘And the picture was definitely taken at 1.32 a.m. that same night.’

  ‘And, if we choose to believe her,’ Fabian continued, ‘no one was in the flat apart from her.’

  ‘So someone broke in to her home, snapped a picture of her sleeping with her own phone and then set it as her background,’ Lilja said.

  ‘Apparently.’

  ‘Ingvar.’ Tuvesson turned to Molander. ‘How far along is the technical investigation?’

  ‘We’ve only done what we had to so they could move the body. With things the way they are, I’m not going to make it out there until sometime tomorrow.’

  ‘The locks. Did you have time to examine them?’

  ‘Of course. And the answer to your next question is no. There was no sign of them being drilled open.’

  ‘Could someone have picked them?’

  ‘Yes and no.’ Molander crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. ‘The tumbler lock’s no problem. All you’d have to do to get it open is ask it nicely. But the deadlock’s a different matter, and since she was clever enough to have a key instead of a thumb turn on the inside, a wire through the letter box wouldn’t have worked.’

  ‘So we’re talking someone with keys.’

  ‘Unless the perpetrator has that so-called super pick, which supposedly opens practically everything.’

  ‘Do we even know if she’d locked both locks?’ Klippan put in.

  ‘She claims to in the report,’ Fabian said.

  ‘And then there’s her phone,’ Lilja said. ‘How did he get into that without her PIN? Is that even possible?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Molander said. ‘And this was an iPhone, so it’s not even much of a challenge. Especially not one running iOS 6, which was released just a week or two ago. Apparently, it’s got more holes in it than a Swiss cheese. Would someone volunteer their iPhone? Fabian?’ He leaned across the table with his hand extended, and Fabian pushed his phone over. ‘The first thing you have to do is call Siri and ask what time it is.’ He picked up the phone and pressed the home button until the phone beeped. ‘Hi Siri. What time is it?’ He held up the screen, which showed the time in Helsingborg. ‘Then you click it and a plus sign will appear in the top-right corner. You click that to see what time it is somewhere else. But instead of choosing a location from the list, we write something else, anything really, like fish guts. Then we highlight the words, like so.’ He showed everyone that the phrase fish guts was highlighted in the search bar. ‘Then we click share and choose message. That will prompt it to ask for one of the names in the contact list. But instead, we’ll type in a name that’s not in the list. Let’s keep it simple and write Ravgni.’

  ‘How is that simple?’ Klippan said.

  ‘You don’t see it? It’s my name backwards. Anyway, we click it once and then again. Then we click create contact and add picture. And voilà. Now we just have to press the home button and we’re in!’ With poorly concealed pride, he demonstrated how he could click his way around the phone unhindered.

  It took Fabian a moment too long to realize that wasn’t such a good idea.

  43

  He was feeling confused again. And lost. And he didn’t like it. No, he really didn’t. He hated it, especially when, like now, he hadn’t taken his medication. The streets seemed to swap places with one another, and the world was spinning around him. Like that boy. He had spun, too. Round and round, so quickly that after a while you couldn’t even see him.

  But he recognized his surroundings, he did. Because that was that sculpture with the red spinning wheel. It usually spun as well. At least it had when he was little. Now it wasn’t moving. Stupid sculpture. If not for that old git staring at him, he would have walked up to it and pissed on it.

  He wanted to go home but was afraid to. The police were probably there, rummaging around, and Igor would get angry and think it was him. Everything was so hard. And he didn’t want to go back to the secure ward. They would just force him into that jacket and lock him up. And he needed to pee, so badly he almost couldn’t hold it any longer.

  He got up from the bench, left the small square and continued into an alley he recognized but couldn’t place. There were trees there, and trees need to be watered. He hurried over to one of them, unzipped his trousers and dug it out before finally being able to relieve the pressure.

  He’d been here before, lots of times. Right, to play arcade games. That was it. They’d had that black-and-white space game Asteroids, and once he’d scored a thousand points and got an extra ship. His brother had played for hours on end with just one krona, with so many extra ships they didn’t even fit on the screen.

  Igor. Oh, he missed Igor so badly, even though he was mean sometimes. But he would never hand him over to the police. He was sure of that.

  He had tried to call him lots of times, but his stupid phone refused to light up and he’d come close to smashing it on the ground. He knew it just needed charging, but he couldn’t help thinking it was being mean. Why couldn’t it just be on his side? He hadn’t really used it that much.

  Some idiot behind him was shouting that he was disgusting and should be ashamed of himself. As soon as he was done peeing, he was going to shut that loudmouth up with his stabby knife. But by then, the idiot was gone, go figure. Typical, but maybe just as well. What he needed was a charger. A charger, so he could call Igor.

  Then he suddenly spotted himself.

  Like a blurred echo from a time when he had more hair and had been on that medication that made him fat.

  KNOWN PAEDOPHILE BEHIND THE LAUNDRY ROOM MURDER!

  But that was him in the picture. It was. Was that why that old man had been staring at him?

  Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? Now he had to run again, and he didn’t like running. It hurt his knees and made him all winded.

  He must have been walking in circles. How typical. Now he was back in the square with that damn wheel that didn’t even spin. But there, on the other side, there was a shop window full of mobile phones. They would be able to help him. And if not, he’d give them the knife.

  He
hurried over and walked past the salesperson, who smelled too strongly of perfume.

  ‘Welcome to Telenor,’ she said, sounding like an answering machine. ‘Are you looking to buy a new phone?’

  ‘No, just charging.’ He pulled out one of the cords and plugged it into his own phone.

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t help you with that. But we sell chargers, both original and—’

  ‘I told you, just charging!’

  ‘All right, okay, sorry.’ The salesperson backed away in fear as the phone came to life in his hand.

  He didn’t like her. She smelled too strongly and looked at him with eyes that weren’t friendly. Not friendly at all, actually. ‘You’re stinky,’ he said, pulling out his knife and starting towards her.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.’ The salesperson held her hands up in front of her. ‘Feel free to charge as much as you’d like.’

  He stopped and hesitated for a few moments before deciding he was going to give her the knife anyway, but at that moment his phone rang.

  ‘Hello? Who is it? Are you my brother? I want to talk to my brother.’

  ‘Assar, it’s me,’ a voice said.

  ‘Is that you, Igor? I tried to call you several times, but the phone was stupid and wouldn’t let me. I hate this phone. Hate, hate, hate!’

  ‘Assar, calm down and tell me where you are instead.’

  ‘But why doesn’t it say it’s you? Why does it say unknown number?’

  ‘Because I’m not calling from my usual phone.’

  ‘Why not? Why aren’t you calling from your usual phone? Why can’t everything be normal?’

  ‘Assar, listen to me. Things aren’t normal any more. You’re wanted by the police; they’re coming for you.’

  ‘I know. They’re really mean.’

  ‘They are, and that’s why I can’t call you from my usual phone. Now tell me where you are so I can come and pick you up before the police do.’

  ‘You know the shop with lots of mobile phones by the square with that wheel that used to spin when we were little?’

  44

  Fabian couldn’t for the life of him understand how he could have been so stupid. Not only had he voluntarily handed his phone over to Molander, he had let him click around for far too long before pulling his finger out and asking for it back. Molander had, of course, continued to swipe around while mockingly asking what kind of secrets he had on it.

  One picture of the contents of Hugo Elvin’s drawer. One single picture would be enough to let him know he’d taken over his secret investigation and was on to him. Which in turn could mean he was in as much danger as Elvin had been.

  On the other hand, there was no way of knowing. Maybe Molander hadn’t even looked at his pictures. Maybe he hadn’t seen anything at all. It was impossible to gauge because he was acting normally and hadn’t visibly or audibly reacted to anything on the screen.

  In an attempt to silence his thoughts, he turned on the radio.

  ‘No, no, no, this isn’t a political scandal. I’m not the one at fault here. What it is, is a miscarriage of justice!’ Sievert Landertz’s agitated voice streamed out of the speakers as he turned off Österleden onto Södra Brunnsvägen. ‘Early last Friday, when most of us were still in bed, there was a knock on my door. It was none other than the police, who without a word of explanation pushed me up against the wall and handcuffed me in front of my wife and my child. I’ve since spent two and a half days in detention!’

  ‘And what do you yourself think is the reason behind your arrest?’ a male reporter was heard asking.

  ‘Think? I know exactly what this is about, it’s about my political views.’

  Fabian turned right on to Gravörgatan and found a free parking space right outside Ramlösa Wok Express.

  ‘I would go so far as to claim that the actions of the police in this matter constitute a grave threat to this country’s democracy. For that reason, I am going to seek compensation for false imprisonment. I’m also suing the detective who perpetrated this violation. Her name is Irene Lilja and I’m not going to rest until she’s been punished and will never again—’

  He killed the engine and climbed out of the car. Without actually knowing how Lilja voted, he was convinced they weren’t too far apart on the political spectrum. Like her, he didn’t have much time for Sievert Landertz or his party. But this time, the man did seem to have a point, and if he decided to follow through on his threat, he hoped Lilja had better arguments than the ones she’d offered in the morning meeting.

  He recognized the man sitting alone with a cup of coffee as soon as he entered the restaurant. It was the husband of Inga Dahlberg, the victim found on Ven. His name was Reidar Dahlberg, and even though he’d grown a beard in the intervening years, he looked like the pictures Fabian had found before making contact and setting up a meeting.

  ‘You must be Fabian Risk,’ a woman’s voice said behind him.

  He turned to the woman who was walking towards him. ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Beatrice Dahlberg, Reidar’s wife of two years.’

  ‘I see. How do you do.’ They shook hands.

  ‘As you can see, he’s waiting for you. But before you start opening up a lot of old wounds, I want you to know Reidar has put that horrible story behind him and doesn’t really want to talk about it.’

  ‘Well, I’m afraid that’s not up to him,’ replied Fabian, who had already grasped that this woman was going to be trouble. ‘In an ongoing murder investigation, you’re obligated to answer police questions whether you want to or not.’

  ‘I would appreciate it if you would at least go easy on him.’

  Instead of responding, Fabian walked over to the table. ‘Hello, Reidar,’ he said, trying to catch the man’s lowered eyes. ‘I’m the one who called you. Fabian Risk.’

  ‘I think that much is clear to him,’ Beatrice said, taking a seat next to her husband.

  Fabian sat down across from them and signalled to the waitress, who was on her way out, that he would like coffee, too. ‘I understand it may feel strange to talk about this, so many years after the—’

  ‘Yes, it really does. Doesn’t it, Reidar?’ Beatrice waited for a nod from Reidar before turning back to Fabian. ‘As I said, two years ago Reidar decided to draw a line under all that awfulness and move on. And it’s made him feel a lot better.’ She put her hand on his.

  ‘Good for you. But unfortunately, drawing a line under something doesn’t make it go away,’ Fabian said, pondering how to make her leave them alone. ‘You see, some new information has come to light, which in turn has given rise to new questions. If all goes well, we might even be able to identify and apprehend the perpetrator.’

  The woman let out a short laugh. ‘That’s what you said last time. If Reidar just answered all your questions. If he just let you search the house one more time. Then everything would be cleared up and the perpetrator would be arrested. But then, after that debacle of a trial, you gave up and left him with an open wound. And now you think you can just come here and open all of this up again.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but how do you know all that? It was over five years ago. Did you know Reidar back then?’

  ‘No, but he’s told me. Reidar’s told me everything. Like how you interrogated him and turned his life upside down. As though he were the one who raped her and nailed her to that… I’m sorry, Reidar, I’m just very upset.’

  ‘Beatrice, I think it might be best if I spoke to Reidar alone.’

  ‘My husband and I share everything, and right now he needs my support more than ever.’

  Fabian sighed inwardly. ‘Reidar, I would like to talk about you and Inga. About what things were like between you before she died.’

  ‘Great. Things were great between them. Isn’t that right, Reidar, things were great between you? Maybe not quite as great as between the two of us, though,’ Beatrice chuckled. ‘You see, Reidar’s a wonderful man to live with, I can assure you of that.’


  ‘That’s lovely. But I would really appreciate it if you would let Reidar answer for himself.’

  ‘There are many things in this world I would appreciate. For instance, I wouldn’t mind a plausible explanation as to what you’re really after.’

  ‘As I said, new information has—’

  ‘Come to light. Yes, you did say. The strange thing is, the papers haven’t written about it. Not a word, as far as I know. Which they should have, given how sensational the murder was. Correct me if I’m wrong.’

  ‘That’s true. But for now, we’ve made the assessment that it’s best if the perpetrator believes the case is closed. For that reason, we’ve elected to keep the investigation covert, and I would like to emphasize at this point how important it is that this conversation stays between us until the perpetrator has been arrested.’

  Beatrice stared at him expressionlessly, as though she were on the other side of a poker table, pondering whether to call his bluff. Meanwhile, Reidar sat next to her, underlining the silence with his lowered eyes and closed mouth.

  He looked strong and fit, with shoulders wide enough to make most men jealous. And yet there he was, hunched over, with a posture that made him look fifteen years older and would give any chiropractor or yoga instructor an instant headache.

  The silence was broken by Beatrice’s phone.

  ‘Yes, this is Beatrice… Listen, can I call you back? I’m in the middle of a… Oh, right, I see…’ She got up with a sigh and walked off.

  ‘It’s great you’ve met someone new.’ This was his chance. ‘She seems wonderful.’ But he didn’t have much time. She would be back soon, and the door would slam shut again. ‘Reidar,’ he continued, leaning across the table. ‘The reason I’m asking about you and Inga is that there are some indications she was having an affair.’

  Reidar finally looked up from his coffee and let the seconds tick by while he appeared to weigh up his options. Then he emptied his cup, stood up and walked out to the outdoor serving area. ‘It’s actually pretty nice out here in the sun.’

  Fabian looked over his shoulder and saw Beatrice coming back towards the table so she could keep an eye on them.