Authors: Dell Magazine Authors
She wiped her tears from her cheeks. “He was like a father to me."
"I'm sorry,” Tonsoffun said. He stared into Salamander's watery blue eyes with his cold blue eyes. “Do I know you from somewhere?"
She shook her head one final time and asked if he was through talking with her. Tonsoffun said yes and then asked to fingerprint her simply as Violent Crimes Division Procedural Formality 23b.
Saturday, July 5
Jerker Rhindtwist, publisher and lead investigative reporter for
Umlaut Magazine,
was unzipping his Ralph Lauren Slim-Fit chinos when his iPhone 3GS quacked like a duck. He checked to see who was calling, wondered what Inspektor Tonsoffun wanted but didn't wait for him to introduce himself, and told him he'd have to call him back, that he was in the middle of an editorial review.
"I'm afraid this is an emergency,” Tonsoffun said. “Your researcher, Froken Salamander, is in deep doo-doo and refuses to speak with a lawyer and I thought maybe she'd talk to you."
"Fine and dandy, but what could be so urgent?"
"We're holding her for the murder of Olaf Gedda."
"You've got to be kidding.” Rhindtwist glanced at his managing editor, Annika Uggla, and placed his hand over the phone and whispered, “This is one hell of a story.” He pushed himself up from the bed and lit a Chesterfield. “What more can you tell me?"
"Not much, other than we've got some very incriminating evidence."
"For example?” Rhindtwist asked in his most penetrating investigative-reporter tone of voice.
"Her fingerprints are all over a bucket of worms,” Tonsoffun answered.
Rhindtwist laughed. “Your bucket of worms may be nothing more than a
can
of worms."
"Clever,” the inspector said. “Only a wordsmith would come to that conclusion."
"Whatever,” Rhindtwist said. “Gotilda's played with fire on occasion and even kicked the hornet's nest a time or two, but she wouldn't harm a soul unless provoked."
"Wrong again. She beat the living daylights out of three young men yesterday who are pressing charges for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon."
"Deadly weapon?” Rhindtwist chuckled. “She doesn't carry any weapons."
"She doesn't have to. She's a 4th dan black belt and technically her hands are lethal weapons."
Rhindtwist said whoever she attacked must have done something to provoke it.
"Maybe. Maybe not,” Tonsoffun said, “but she's as nutty as a fruitcake from ahléns department store, so stop arguing and come up here and talk some sense into her. She's only making things worse for herself by not cooperating."
The inspector's inexplicable sympathy for Salamander and the gravity of her situation weighed on Rhindtwist like a two-and-a-half-ton truck and a twinge of remorse ran through his lanky frame. At one time, he and Salamander had been lovers, but she had abruptly broken off their relationship and he knew it was he who had screwed things up. Further, he'd dealt with Tonsoffun before and knew he was a good cop—maybe not the sharpest tool in the shed, but a good cop, nonetheless. Finally he said, “Torsten, Gotilda did a short stint of freelance consulting for
Umlaut
awhile back but I wouldn't call her a friend, certainly not now. Furthermore, I don't want to get involved with her again. Isn't there someone else who could help her?"
Tonsoffun sighed. “I don't think so, Jerker. I think you're her last, best chance."
"Okay,” Rhindtwist said. “I'll be there tomorrow but you owe me one."
Sunday, July 6
Rhindtwist arrived at the County Criminal Police Violent Crimes Division headquarters in Hudiksvall at 10:00 sharp and went directly to Tonsoffun's office, where he was introduced to Inspektor Nils Noonesson.
Once they settled in with their coffees, Noonesson began the briefing. “First, the bucket of worms that was sitting by Gedda's body has Froken Salamander's fingerprints all over it. Second, from the angle of the bullet and the lack of powder burns, the experts at forensics say the shooter had to be five foot eight or taller. Third, there is no evidence of a struggle, or that the murderer surprised Gedda, so the odds are it was someone Gedda knew and someone who knew no one else would be around at the time. All three point to the girl."
"Although they could point to others,” Rhindtwist said.
"Not the bucket with her prints,” Noonesson said.
"The bucket could be a red herring to direct you toward the girl,” Rhindtwist said.
"Improbable,” Noonesson said.
"Any other suspects?” Rhindtwist asked.
"None,” Noonesson said.
Tonsoffun shot Noonesson a dark look. “None
right now
, but we should talk with Manfred von Otter, Gedda's lawyer. He knows as much about Gedda's affairs as anyone and may give us some leads. But first, Jerker, can you tell us something about the girl? Her background, what makes her tick. I have a curious feeling—"
"Come on, boss, she's nothing more than a wacko, dumb blonde,” Noonesson interrupted.
Rhindtwist stared at Noonesson. “Let's get something straight right now. Gotilda worked for me when I was living like a hermit in Thermostadt and I'll agree that at times she's like a hand grenade with its pin pulled, but a wacko—no.” He paused to let what he'd said sink in. “When she worked at Handelsbanken, before she struck out on her own, they were impressed by her capacity to deal with numbers and computers, and her photographic memory. So, Inspektor Noonesson, don't fall into the trap of thinking she's stupid, because nothing could be further from the truth."
Noonesson sighed. “So what's with the purple hair and all those rings and studs and not talking to a lawyer?"
"I'm a reporter not a psychologist,” Rhindtwist said, “but I'm sure if you've looked closely you're aware that she could have been a member of our national bikini team."
Both inspectors nodded enthusiastically.
"My theory is that she worries that her beauty and her extreme sexuality diminish her intellect so she's chosen a way to disguise it."
"I still think she's guilty,” Noonesson said.
"Maybe. Maybe not,” Tonsoffun said. “Do you know anything about her childhood?” he asked Rhindtwist.
"Nope,” Rhindtwist said. “She never talks about such things."
Salamander was sitting in her seven-by-thirteen-foot cell when Tonsoffun unlocked the cell door and told her that she had a visitor. She curled into a ball on her cot and shoved her hands between her knees. “A visitor?"
Tonsoffun nodded. “Your reporter friend."
Jerker Two-Timing Rhindtwist.
“Tell him I don't want to talk to him."
Tonsoffun lied. “You have no choice, Froken Salamander. It's a CCPVCD court order."
Salamander said she didn't care if it was by order of His Majesty Carl XVI Gustaf himself; she wouldn't talk with Rhindtwist, no matter what.
Nosy Selfish Pig.
Tonsoffun laid a large hand gently on the girl's shoulder. “Please talk with Herr Rhindtwist. You need someone to get you out of this mess and he's your last, best chance."
Last, best chance?
Salamander was surprised by her reaction to this authority figure and his plea, and took his hand and pulled herself to her feet. “Okay, Tonsoffun. Five minutes. No more."
Monday, July 7
Inspektor Tonsoffun nodded to Manfred von Otter.
Gedda's lawyer nodded back.
Tonsoffun turned on his tape recorder. “Monday, July seventh, two thousand nine; oh-eight-fifteen hours. VCD confiscation protocol for Olaf Gedda. Library, mahogany desk, bottom drawer. One Jenni Bick leather fly-fishing log, one photograph album, size A-four, three Manila folders, one marked PERSONAL, one marked WILL, one PARTNERSHIP."
Tuesday, July 8
Sipping a fresh cup of coffee, Rhindtwist asked, “What did you learn from von Otter?"
"That your wacky friend stands to inherit twenty billion kronor,” Noonesson said. “What more do you need?"
"Some more evidence, Nils,” Tonsoffun answered and looked at Rhindtwist. “We learned that there are at least two other people who would profit from Herr Gedda's death."
Rhindtwist opened a spiral notebook and pulled a BIC Select ballpoint pen from the breast pocket of the denim work shirt that he wore outside his light brown wide-wale corduroy trousers from Orvis. “Names?"
"There's really only one,” Noonesson said.
Tonsoffun shot Noonesson one of his familiar dark looks. “She's not alone. Paulsson inherits five billion."
"Whoa!” Rhindtwist said.
"Whoa, is right.” Tonsoffun said, and went on to say that he'd added Gunnar Hakanson to his list. “Hakanson was Gedda's minority partner. Their agreement states that the business passes to him upon Gedda's death. What's more, he's complained to von Otter on a number of occasions that his twenty-five percent share didn't fairly represent what he brought to the table."
Rhindtwist wrote three names on his pad, and then a fourth: Salamander, Paulsson, Hakanson, von Otter.
He punctuated each with a finger on his right hand. “So you've got Salamander, Paulsson, and Hakanson. Anyone else?"
Tonsoffun shook his head.
Noonesson shook his head too. “Get a grip! We've got the murderer locked up. It's an open-and-shut case."
"I don't think so, Nils,” Rhindtwist said, and turned to Tonsoffun. “Mind if I talk with your new suspects and von Otter?"
"Be my guest,” Tonsoffun said.
Noonesson shook his head again. “You're wasting your time."
Wednesday, July 9
At eleven the following morning, Rhindtwist walked towards Dontgivadamm on Garbogatan and turned up the steep cobblestone street on his left and climbed until he located 22 Haagen-Dazs, where he was greeted by Manfred von Otter, who, at six-six, towered over him. “Come in,” he said, and smiled a toothy smile. “I assume you know that I've told the authorities everything I know so I hope this is worth your while."
Rhindtwist addressed von Otter formally. “Just a few questions, advokat, for clarification more than anything else."
"It's Manfred, please,” von Otter said. “So where should we begin?"
"We could begin with coffee,” Rhindtwist said.
"I should have guessed,” von Otter said and poured two cups from a thermos carafe on his credenza. Once seated, von Otter appeared to feel in charge and asked how he could help.
"I assume you drew up Herr Gedda's will,” Rhindtwist said.
"Of course."
"I'm told it includes bequests of twenty billion kronor for Gotilda Salamander and five billion for Henrik Paulsson."
Von Otter sighed. “The girl also gets a life membership in the Scandinavian Lunkersklubb and Henrik gets the small cottage he's lived in for the past twenty or so years.” He paused. “May I call you Jerker?"
"Of course."
Von Otter smiled and leaned forward. “Jerker, you must understand that there's a distinction between drawing up a will and counseling a client about its contents. Some of these bequests represented one of many areas in which Olaf and I disagreed, respectfully, of course. The most egregious was his gift to that gold-digging girl.” He sighed. “I advised against leaving her a cent. Good God, man, what was he thinking leaving her twenty billion kronor? And a membership in the Lunkersklubb? A total sham! The minute Olaf turned his back on her she put down her fly rod and fished with a worm.” He drew a breath to compose himself. “The cottage for Henrik was my idea but, even with that, Olaf preferred his overly generous lump-sum gift to my suggestion of a modest yearly stipend."
"Hmm.” Rhindtwist sipped his coffee. “Sounds like prudent lawyerly advice to me."
A self-satisfied smile crept across von Otter's face.
Rhindtwist asked where the rest of Gedda's fortune would go. “The answer is simple: to charities. Twenty-five billion in total. Trout Unlimited will be the primary beneficiary with ten billion. But there are many others like Save the Children, Pearl S. Buck International, and many small organizations no one's ever heard of."
"He certainly was a generous man,” Rhindtwist said, “which takes me back to Paulsson and Salamander. Do you think the butler did it?"
"Certainly not!” von Otter said. “Henrik was very fond of Olaf and wanted for absolutely nothing financially."
"What about his relationship with Salamander?"
Von Otter chuckled. “Let's just say Henrik isn't interested in women."
"Hmm. Was he
interested
, as you put it, in Herr Gedda?"
Von Otter chuckled again. “No, but no matter. Olaf was too busy fishing with the crazy girl."
"Could Paulsson have been jealous of Salamander?"
"I strongly doubt it."
"So you've concluded that it must have been Salamander?"
"No question about it."
"You're sure there could be no one else?” Rhindtwist asked. “What about Herr Gedda's business partner?"
"I'm afraid you're grasping at straws, Jerker. Gunnar Hakanson's extremely wealthy in his own right. Besides, he was in Finland when Olaf was murdered. That's where I reached him with the sad news."
"On his mobile?"
Von Otter nodded and asked if there was anything else he could do to help.
"One more question,” Rhindtwist said as he stared into his coffee. “Do you own a gun?"
Von Otter straightened in his chair. “Jerker, I am a man of the law but, because you asked, yes, I used to own a pistol. It was stolen a couple of years ago. It's a matter of record."
"And you didn't replace it?"
"I abhor violence, especially after what happened to Anna Lindh.* I don't even kill a trout for breakfast anymore and I can assure you that takes a lot of self-discipline."
[*Anna Lindh was one of Sweden's most popular politicians, serving as a Member of Parliament, Deputy Mayor of Stockholm, Minister for the Environment, and, finally, Minister of Foreign Affairs from 1998-2003 when she was knifed to death while shopping at the Nordiska Kompaniet department store in Stockholm. At the time of her assassination she was not protected by the Swedish Security Service.]