Authors: Mari Jungstedt
‘Do that.’ Knutas sighed. ‘It feels like we’re just treading water. With the homicide case, I mean,’ he clarified so that she wouldn’t think he was talking about their personal relationship. Although in some ways he actually was.
‘I know,’ Jacobsson agreed. ‘The investigation into the assault hasn’t produced much yet. There’s nothing to indicate that it has anything to do with the murder of Viktor Algård. It’s just so awful that the boy died.’
‘I’ve been thinking a lot about his poor mother, Ingrid. I talked to her on the phone last night. She was completely beside herself, of course. Losing a child must be the worst thing that can happen to a person.’
Knutas shook his head. He took a sip of his light beer and looked at Karin. She was staring straight ahead with a blank expression.
‘What is it?’
‘I’m not feeling very good. I’ve got to go to the loo.’
She put out her cigarette, got up unsteadily and disappeared inside the café.
A frown of concern crossed Knutas’s face as he watched her go.
THE BUILDING HOUSING
the Solo Club, which was so popular with young people, was located on the edge of the harbour district, squeezed between a family restaurant and a bicycle-hire shop. Knutas had made an appointment to meet the pub manager there at three o’clock, but he was a little early. The bartender offered him a cup of coffee and invited him to sit down to wait.
After a few minutes Rolf Lewin arrived. He matched perfectly Rylander’s description of him. He was tall with a boyish physique, dyed hair that stuck straight up and pierced eyebrows. He wore a black T-shirt with a drum set printed in gold on his chest and a long gold chain. On his feet he wore a pair of black Converse trainers, just like the ones that Nils owned. But Rolf had an open, friendly face, and he smiled as he introduced himself.
‘As you know, we’re investigating the murder of Viktor Algård,’ said Knutas. ‘Since a boy was assaulted here right before the murder and he has now died from his injuries, we consider the incident to be of interest to our investigation.’
‘OK, but the police have already been here several times.’
Knutas held up his hands as if to ward off any further objections.
‘I know. But right now we’d like to hear what you think about a possible link to the murder. Have you seen or heard anything suspicious? Have you noticed whether anyone has displayed a particular hatred for Algård?’
‘Everybody liked Viktor. He was a cheerful guy. He had good intentions, but he really had no idea what he was getting into when he
started
arranging special evenings here at the club for the younger kids. That’s when things went wrong. He refused to see that there were any problems. His only concern was the money he expected to make.’
‘So what was his reaction to the problems?’
‘There was trouble right from the start. There’s no use trying to hide that fact. Lots of kids were stewed to the gills even before they got here. They also smuggled in booze and drank outside the club. The bouncers did the best they could, but it was impossible for us to control everything that was going on. So of course there was a lot of drinking and fighting. We had to deal with plenty of violent incidents even before Alexander Almlöv got beaten up. But Viktor just brushed it all aside. He thought things would calm down after a while.’
‘What sort of violent incidents?’
‘Fights between pumped-up boys who’d had too much to drink. Brawls. One time a chick claimed that she’d been raped in the ladies’ room, but no one took her seriously. I wasn’t on duty that night, but I heard about it afterwards,’ Rolf hastened to add, giving the detective an apologetic look.
Knutas frowned.
‘And it was never reported to the police? The rape, I mean?’
Rolf shook his head.
‘I know this sounds strange, but nobody knew who she was. Not even her name or where she was from. She just came outside crying and talked to the bouncers. Her clothes were a mess and she had several cuts on her face, but she was really loaded, and then she left with a friend who was trying to comfort her. The bouncers thought the kids were just going around the corner and would come back, so they’d have another chance to talk to the girl. But she never returned.’
‘And they just let her go, even though she said she’d been raped?’
‘Afraid so. But like I said, there’s been so much trouble here during these club nights for teenagers that we just can’t control everything that goes on. It’s too much. I tried to explain the problem to Viktor, but as I mentioned, he didn’t want to hear it. We have three more of those kind of club events that were booked ages ago, but after that, it bloody well has to stop.’
‘Are you the one who’s in charge now that Algård is dead?’
‘For the time being, yes.’
‘And you’ve always been against holding these parties for teenagers?’
‘Not at first, but I quickly realized that they were getting out of hand. Even though they brought in a lot of money, it wasn’t worth the trouble. We’ve got to think of the kids too. We’ve got a responsibility, damn it.’
‘So you and Viktor didn’t agree about this?’
‘That’s putting it mildly.’
‘When did this rape incident occur?’
‘It was on Lucia evening, December the thirteenth. Almost four months ago.’
‘And you still have no idea who the girl was?’
‘No, I haven’t got a clue.’
‘You were working at the bar during the dedication festivities at the conference centre, isn’t that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘They needed help, and I have nothing against making a little extra money.’
‘Did you notice anything out of the ordinary during the evening? Anyone who seemed suspicious?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘We now know that Viktor was having an affair with Veronika Hammar. Did you happen to notice them together? She was at the party too.’
Rolf Lewin’s face lit up.
‘Actually, yes. They were standing at the bar, talking. Just briefly. I even served them drinks.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Well, to be precise, I mixed a drink for Veronika Hammar. I remember because it was at the request of a secret admirer.’ He rolled his eyes.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Knutas.
‘Well, there was this guy who came over and ordered an alcohol-free strawberry daiquiri, which he wanted to give her.’
‘And you gave the drink to Veronika?’
‘Yes.’
‘This man who ordered it – what did he look like?’
‘Hmm. I don’t really recall. There wasn’t anything remarkable about him. Tall, in his forties, wearing a grey suit, I think. Blond hair, a bit straggly. He wore glasses with black frames. They looked like Armani.’
‘But you didn’t recognize him?’
‘No. I’d never seen him before. I don’t think he was from around here.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I’m not sure. Just a feeling I had.’
Considering Rolf claims not to have remembered anything about the guy, his powers of observation are certainly impressive, thought Knutas. Then another thought occurred to him.
‘What time was this?’
‘The stage show had just started, so it must have been right after midnight.’
‘Did you see whether Veronika drank the cocktail?’
‘I don’t think she did. She handed the glass to Viktor. Then he went downstairs, while she went off in another direction. There were so many people, and I was busy filling drink orders, so I didn’t give it another thought.’
‘Do you recall what the man said?’
Rolf paused to think.
‘Let’s see now. First he ordered the drink, without saying anything in particular. After I mixed the cocktail and served it, he paid with cash and gave me a big tip.’
‘Try to remember exactly what happened,’ Knutas told him. ‘Did he give you exact change?’
‘Good Lord, how in hell am I supposed to … Wait a minute. Now I remember. He paid with a five-hundred-krona note. The drink cost eighty-five, and he told me just to give him four hundred back. That’s right. Fifteen for a tip.’
‘Then what?’
‘Well, when I handed him the change, he asked me to give the drink to Veronika Hammar.’
‘How far apart were they standing? I mean, Veronika and the stranger?’
‘They were at opposite ends of the bar, so maybe ten metres apart or so. And there was a big crowd there. I told Veronika that the drink was from an admirer, but when I turned to point him out to her, the guy was gone.’
Knutas had listened to Rolf’s account with growing interest. He realized that the bartender’s story meant that the murder investigation was about to take a new and surprising turn.
He thanked the man for his time and then hurried out of the club.
As soon as Knutas got back to police headquarters, he asked Jacobsson to come to his office. He explained his theory, based on what he’d just learned from the pub manager. Jacobsson sat in silence on his visitor’s sofa, listening with an increasingly surprised look on her face.
‘So you think that Algård was killed by mistake? That the cyanide wasn’t intended for him at all?’
‘Exactly. It was meant for Veronika Hammar.’
‘So we’ve been on the wrong track the whole time.’
‘The man who ordered that drink is the one we need to be looking for.’
‘What about the glass?’
‘We’re going to have to search the entire building again. Look in every damn rubbish bin, and every nook and cranny in the vicinity of the conference centre. The perp obviously took the glass with him.’
‘So how did the poison get in the cocktail?’
‘Emptying a vial into the drink could be done in a flash. It wouldn’t take more than a few seconds. He could have done it while the bartender was getting change for the five hundred kronor.’
‘This turns everything upside down,’ said Jacobsson. ‘We’re going to have to start from scratch.’
‘Definitely,’ Knutas agreed grimly. ‘Let’s get everyone together for a meeting.’
THE CABIN COULDN’T
be described as luxurious. It was a typical weekend cabin from the sixties with dark brown wood panelling, a tumbledown chimney and spartan furnishings. The front door opened on to a narrow hallway. A row of hooks on the wall held jackets, coats and various bags and purses. On the floor underneath were rubber boots, wooden clogs and slippers. A couple of walking sticks leaned against the wall in one corner. The small kitchen had a window that faced the forested area on the hill. A cheap rug on the floor, wallpaper with brown flowers. A laminate countertop, a small sink and a stove that looked at least thirty years old. Further along the hall was a large bedroom with a double bed, dresser and photographs of several children on the wall. The living room had a hardwood floor and a simple fireplace. The furniture consisted of a sofa, coffee table, bookshelf and a spinning wheel.
It was getting cold. She had heated up some soup for dinner and eaten it with a couple of open sandwiches on rye bread. Outside the window, it looked as if a big lamp had been switched off over Gotland. It was pitch dark. At night, not a single light was ever visible over the countryside, except for the moon if the sky was clear. Then it would spread its bluish glow over the treetops, glinting on the wings of bats as they fluttered overhead whenever she made her way to the outside privy. Tonight she stayed sitting at the table after she finished eating. She was staring at the flame of the candle that she’d set in the wrought-iron candlestick.
All day long she’d had a strange feeling that someone was watching her, but she had no idea why she felt that way. At first she’d thought it
was
the cat. He’d been gone since morning, and he hadn’t appeared when she called his name. Maybe he was staring at her from some hiding place, enjoying the fact that he’d managed to elude her. Letting her stand there and call his name in a vain attempt to entice him back inside.
She’d come out here to this isolated cabin even though she hated being alone. In the summer it was a paradise, when the other homeowners brought life to the area and the Swedish nights were bright. In the wintertime it was hell, with the darkness, solitude and strong winds. But she’d had no other choice. She had to get away, escape everything that had to do with Viktor and the police investigation. Not to mention everybody’s prying stares.
Feeling on edge, she listened tensely for any sound, but she heard only the roar of the sea and the wind rushing through the trees. What could it be that was making her so uneasy? Maybe it was just her imagination.
She glanced at the doorway leading to the hall. Then she got up to make sure that she had locked the front door properly. Yes, it was locked. Even so, she stared nervously at the key sitting in the lock. How much would that really help? Any guy with sufficient muscle could easily kick in the flimsy door. She had to admit that she was completely unprotected, vulnerable to anyone who might decide to start breaking into the cottages in this remote area.
She made the coffee and switched on the TV. The programme
Ask the Doctor
was on channel 2, while channel 1 was rerunning a drama series that she’d already seen. A show for kids was on channel 4. She sighed and went back to channel 2 and a discussion about prostate cancer. At least it was reassuring to have some background noise, voices to keep her company and hold bad thoughts at bay. She went into the kitchen to pour herself some coffee. Then stopped abruptly. She had glimpsed something moving outside in the dark. Like a shadow slipping past the window. All of a sudden she was uncomfortably aware of how visible she must be from outside as she stood in the brightly lit kitchen. She fumbled for the light switch.
When the room went dark, she had a better view of the outdoors. She crept over to the small window to scan her surroundings, looking from
one
side of the property to the other. She saw the lawn, which was covered with withered leaves, pine needles and branches that had come down during the winter storms. She saw the toolshed, the playhouse and the privy. Nothing. She went back to the living room, turned off all the lamps and blew out the candle. If someone was out there, she didn’t want that person to be able to see every move she made. She also turned off the light in the hall. The house had no curtains or blinds. She had decided that window blinds were unnecessary since she usually came here only in the summertime. She loved it when sunlight flooded the small cabin, both day and night. Curtains merely gathered mildew, and besides, they blocked the view. But right now she would have given anything for some sort of window covering.