‘Yes. And?’ Molander was starting to sound annoyed. ‘Would you mind getting to the point? Everyone’s on me right now, and I really don’t have all afternoon.’
‘I just want you to react if there’s something that’s not right,’ he said, clueless as to what that was supposed to mean. ‘It could be anything in the flat. I mean in terms of fixing things. Do you get what I’m saying?’
‘No. But no need to fret. I’ll keep my eyes open. Are we done here?’
‘Absolutely. I just wanted to tell you that.’
‘Great.’
The phone call had been exhausting. The most important thing now was that Molander didn’t seem suspicious and Gertrud had most likely not said anything. Which gave him time to think about whether to contact her or not.
He started studying the mysterious plastic card from every conceivable angle and in every conceivable light. But the only information he could see was the six gold letters.
Spades.
It could mean anything. From an illegal casino to an informal network for career women. Predictably, a Google search generated over three million hits. He went to Hitta.se instead so he could limit the search to the north-west part of Skåne. The number of hits was reduced to two.
The bowling club Queen of Spades in Allerum and Club Spades in Glumslöv.
He dialled the latter’s number and was greeted by an answering machine.
‘Welcome to Spades, the club for all tastes.’
49
‘She’s going to die.’
He was so sick of them and just wanted them to go away.
‘She doesn’t deserve to live anyway.’
Wanted them to leave him alone.
‘The only thing she deserves is you.’
Stupid fucking prick voices.
‘You can do anything you want.’
But, as usual, they refused.
‘Absolutely anything you want.’
Though they did sound different this time; they did.
‘So long as it ends with her dying.’
More intense and urgent.
‘We know you want to.’
Nag, nag, nag.
‘That you’ve been looking forward to it.’
It was as though they’d got stuck on repeat and weren’t going to stop until he did what they told him to.
‘Looked forward to finally throwing all inhibition aside.’
At least that usually shut them up.
‘You really do deserve it.’
But he didn’t always want to.
‘You of all people.’
Sometimes, he’d done things just to make them shut up.
‘You know she’s going to die.’
The people in the ward had only themselves to blame.
‘That it’s the right thing.’
After all, they were the ones who insisted on letting him out every time. Not him.
‘You know what to do.’
So, in a way, the voices were in fact on to something.
‘And you do like children, don’t you.’
His right.
‘No one likes children as much as you.’
His goddamn right.
50
Tonight 4pm – 2am. Mixed. Odengatan 10, entrance on Heimdalsgatan. Welcome.
The text had been sent from a withheld number just over half an hour after he’d left his name and number on the answering machine. At that point it had already been half four, which was why he’d gone straight from Wessman’s flat, in the hopes of there not being too many guests yet. But as soon as he turned on to Heimdalsgatan in Glumslöv, he realized that had been wishful thinking.
A long row of cars and motorcycles were parked along the side of the road, in the tall grass. There was even a tractor and a couple of bikes with helmets dangling off their handlebars. Apparently, people were eager to get inside and get naked. He parked his car a few hundred feet further down the street and walked back. The last thing he wanted was to be boxed in and having to ask people to move their cars when they were in the middle of God knew what.
He squeezed through the gap between two cars and continued in through an opening in the ramshackle, overgrown fence. The reason they’d put the entrance in the back was probably the neighbours, who had no doubt done everything they could to get rid of the club, though things did seem surprisingly quiet. The idea of anything wilder than a dinner party and possibly a round of bridge going on inside felt like utter science fiction.
A well-trodden path led up to a grey door at the back of the house. A brass sign announced that he’d found Spades. He opened the door and stepped into the darkness beyond.
This was his first time at a swingers’ club. Like most people, he’d toyed with the idea, and on one or two occasions he’d seriously considered whether it wasn’t exactly what Sonja and he needed to kickstart their sex life after the baby years.
But he’d never gone so far as to mention the idea to Sonja. Mostly because he’d been convinced she would explode and accuse him of being distasteful and revolting and say that his pathetic midlife crisis wasn’t her problem. What’s more, he had no idea how he would react to seeing her with other people.
But in hindsight, maybe he should have suggested it. Maybe their relationship would have been different. Not to mention their sex life, which had descended into such a deep torpor over the past few years, not even electric shocks could resuscitate it. Or would it have made no difference, since, according to Matilda’s philosophy, everything was preordained anyway?
Once his eyes got used to the gloom, he found he was in a hallway with black walls and that there was a dark red curtain in front of him. Soothing music and sensual moaning could be heard from the other side of it, mixed with the sound of skin slapping against skin at an increasing pace. And if he wasn’t mistaken, at least one woman, possibly more, was close to climaxing.
Against his will, he felt his blood starting to stir. In an attempt to calm himself down, he refocused on why he was there and pulled the curtain aside.
‘Welcome, Fabian Risk,’ said the woman at the till. She looked about his age and was dressed in a tight latex corset, which matched her smiling red lips and elbow-length gloves. ‘First time, I see.’
Fabian nodded on his way up to the till, pondering how she could tell. ‘I’m afraid I’m only here to talk about a certain Molly Wessman. Do you know her?’
‘Maybe,’ replied the woman, whose smile was quickly replaced by a straight line. ‘In this world, we don’t discuss our guests with outsiders. So whatever secrets you might have, they stay between us. Might be good to know in case you ever work up the courage to come here to let your hair down.’
‘Absolutely. But as it happens, Molly Wessman is dead, murdered.’ He showed her his police ID. ‘Priests, doctors and psychologists are some of the people whose right to professional secrecy is sanctioned by law. Swingers, or whatever you call yourselves, have no choice but to talk, unless you want me to press charges, that is.’
The woman briefly glanced down at his ID before looking back up at him. ‘As I said, we don’t talk to outsiders. So either you press your little charges, if that makes you feel good. Or you throw yourself into the unknown and become a member. Become one of us. Who knows where it might lead?’
Her smile was back, a visible confirmation that she could see right through him and his empty threats. As though he were even close to pressing charges.
‘How much is a membership?’
‘4,500 annually and 350 per visit. That includes a towel and bathrobe, oils and condoms. You’ll have to bring your own Viagra.’
That wasn’t only too expensive, the lead was also too flimsy to ask Tuvesson to compensate him. Even so, he found himself pulling out his card from his wallet, inserting it into the reader and punching in his PIN.
‘There we go. That wasn’t so hard, now was it?’ She tore off the receipt and gave him his part along with his card. ‘Your membership card will be waiting for yo
u the next time you feel brave enough to stop by.’
‘There won’t be a next time. Now I would like you to answer my questions.’
‘This is your bathrobe.’ She placed a folded white robe and matching slippers on the counter. ‘You’ll find towels in the changing room.’ She nodded to a door further down the hallway. ‘Oil and condoms are available throughout the facility. And condoms are required, so just take as many as you need. But we’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mind discarding used ones in one of the bins provided. Other than that, there’s only one rule: No means no. No one does anything against their will here. If you have any other questions, we can talk about them after you’ve showered.’
He was about to object when a couple in their thirties entered and flashed their membership cards.
‘Hello, welcome,’ the woman said and turned to get two more robes.
Fabian saw no other way than to follow her instructions. She definitely knew Wessman and unless he’d read her wrong, she had things to say about her. Or was he just fooling himself? Should he give up and go home?
The changing room was small but clean with lockers along the walls and a shower room with four showers. A wall-mounted TV was showing a film in which a muscular man was lying on his back, getting massaged by a woman. She sensually caressed his chest all the way down to his member, which though only half-erect was considerably larger than his own. Both the man and the woman were shaved smooth everywhere; their oil-drenched skin reflected the light when she took it in her mouth.
He wasn’t big on porn, personally. Watching others have a good time instead of having a good time himself had never held much appeal. But he had trouble tearing his eyes away from this particular film. For a porn flick, it was remarkably tasteful and artistic, in terms of the lighting, the black-and-white filter and the choice of music.
He pulled off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. Then he took off his shoes and trousers and put everything in a locker. One of his socks had a hole on the heel; he pondered whether he should throw them out and go home barefoot. His washed-out underpants, which had once been blue with purple stripes, were hardly a source of pride either; taking them off was almost a relief.
What would Sonja say if she knew where he was right now? Would she even care? Probably not. She would probably just shrug and wish him luck.
He locked his locker and put the key in one of the pockets of the bathrobe on his way to the showers, where he stepped into the furthest stall and let the hot water wash over him. It felt good; he was finally able to relax.
Why was he fighting it, anyway? What was he ashamed of? He was practically divorced, looked okay for his age and from what little he’d seen in various changing rooms, he was well-hung enough to consider himself a bit above average.
He rinsed off the soap and heard the sound of love-making over the splashing of the water. At first, he assumed it was the TV. But when he moved his head out of the jet, he could clearly hear that it was coming from the adjacent sauna. It sounded like two women and a man and they all seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely.
A part of him wanted to pull his scruffy socks and ugly underwear back on and go home as quickly as possible. But only a small part. The rest of him instead turned off the shower and moved towards the wooden door, whose handle had gone dark from all the wet hands grabbing it. There were at least three people in there, maybe as many as five, and judging from the sounds, they were partying together.
He had never tried group sex. He’d never even come close to a threesome. If he was completely honest, it wasn’t something he’d found particularly tempting, especially not if it involved another man. He couldn’t say why. It had just never turned him on.
But that was then, all of thirty seconds ago. Now, his objections felt completely irrelevant. One or more men, women, it didn’t matter. All he wanted was to go inside and join in. To experience all those things he had, for some reason, decided weren’t for him.
He just needed a condom first, and like the woman at the till had said, they were right there, in a bowl within arm’s reach. He picked up a wrapper, snapped it in half and started rolling the condom on to his throbbing cock. Of course he wouldn’t do anything if he was unwelcome. But why would he be? There were clearly more than two people in there. And if not them, there were others. He hadn’t even left the changing room yet.
He mustered his courage and grabbed the handle to open the door. It was stiff; he had to put his other hand on the door frame to yank it open.
A warm, humid wall hit him. A wall heavy with sweat and sex. The whole scene was one of the most revolting things he’d ever seen. And yet, he couldn’t make himself stop staring, as though he were passing a traffic accident with severed body parts strewn along the side of the road.
It was a big heaving pile of flesh. Hairy backs, tattooed love handles and pimply behinds jumbled up in an orgy of bad taste. It took him several seconds to figure out that there were only four of them – two men and two women, all obese enough that ending up underneath them might be fatal.
Before any of them had a chance to notice him, he backed out into the shower room, pulled off the now much-too-big condom, wrapped his bathrobe around him and stepped into his slippers.
The event served as a reminder why he was there and steered him towards the red door that led out to a larger room with a black ceiling and red drapes along the walls.
The handful of lights in the room were so faint he had to stop and wait for his eyes to adjust again. People were spread out, conversing, holding cups of tea or coffee, as though this were a coffee break in a parish hall, with the slight difference that most people were naked.
There was a lot of paleness and obesity on which years of gravity had left indelible marks. Granted, some were tall and thin, but their posture seemed to be begging for back pain, and almost everyone, whether they were short and curvy or bald with guts so big they effectively concealed their private parts, had at least two or three tattoos.
From time to time, as if in response to a secret signal, a couple or an entire group departed for one of the adjacent rooms, and he was shot a number of inviting looks. But he pretended not to notice, and as soon as he saw the woman from the till enter and step in behind the bar, he walked over and sat down on one of the bar stools.
‘Hi there, how are you getting on?’ she said, serving the woman next to him a raspberry soft drink. ‘Get laid yet?’
‘That’s not why I’m here.’
‘Right, you’re here for a murder investigation.’ She chuckled. ‘Everyone comes here with an excuse the first time, though I will admit I’ve never heard yours before.’
‘Maybe because it’s true,’ he said. He waited until the woman next to him had left together with a couple in their forties. ‘So if you wouldn’t mind telling me what you know about Molly Wessman.’
‘At the risk of disappointing, I don’t know much more than you do.’ She shrugged. ‘She was one of our very first members, always showed up alone and was here maybe ten times, at a guess.’
‘What was her orientation? I mean, was she into anything in particular? Something outside the realm of the normal?’
‘And what exactly is outside the realm of the normal?’
‘I don’t know. Was she into BDSM? Did she like it rough? Or was she—’
‘So BDSM isn’t considered normal?’
‘I don’t know. This is your world. Not mine.’
‘In my world, we don’t ask stupid questions. “Did she like it rough?”’ The woman shook her head as a short man with a beard and glasses came over with a homemade DVD.
‘Would you mind running this in the video room?’
‘Of course not, consider it done.’ She took the disc out of the case, labelled CREAM #23, and inserted it into one of the players. ‘So you and Sivan have been at it again, have you?’
The man lit up but didn’t answer and then he disappeared.
‘In your world, on the other hand,’ she c
ontinued. ‘There, a place like this is all about being deviants and getting off on, like, golden showers and strangulation.’
‘If you wouldn’t mind answering my questions instead of rating them,’ Fabian said, spotting the two obese couples from the sauna entering through the red door. ‘Then this would’ve taken no longer than a few minutes and you could have gone back to serving fizzy drinks and I could have gone home to my family, 4,850 kronor poorer.’
‘Fine.’ She met his eyes. ‘If you ask me, she was completely normal. Just like you and everyone else here, she was interested in sex. Just like you, she did nothing her first time here, and when she came back, it was, as it so often is, very cautious and vanilla. But as time went by, she agreed to try all kinds of things. Just like you will.’
‘Was she with different people, men and women, or always with the same ones?’
‘She went with different people, men and women, just like it will be for—’
‘Let’s stick to Molly. Do you know if she ever thought things had gone too far, if she was afraid of anyone?’
‘No, who would that be? One of the rules is that no one has to do anything they don’t want to.’
‘Never heard of people breaking rules?’
‘Maybe out in your world. Not here.’ She put out a sign that read Serve yourself on the counter. ‘Are we done? Because I have guests waiting.’
Fabian turned around and saw a group of seven or eight people of different ages and in various states of undress waiting behind him. She was probably right. Not just about how safe this environment was compared to the world outside, but also about how it was probably his narrow-minded view of sex that had read too much into Wessman being a member of a swingers’ club. Even so, he leaned over the counter and grabbed a pen.
‘Just one last thing,’ he said as he drew a line across a napkin and added a perpendicular arrow. ‘You wouldn’t happen to recognize this tattoo, would you?’ He added the two-digit number under the line and handed her the napkin.
Motive X Page 25
