“They?”
“Yeah, there were two men, around forty or fifty years old,” he said. “Anyway, I thought it was all a bit suspicious and whatever was in the rubbish bag was obviously heavy.”
“What time was this?”
“Around two or two thirty in the morning.”
Sanna looked pensively at him.
“You say you drove past quickly. Well then, if that was the case, how did you have time to notice so many details?”
The witness stroked his wide, masculine jaw.
A long silence ensued. Sanna decided not to press him.
“I was curious. They looked like they might be up to no good so I parked the car and walked over.”
“What were you doing out so late?”
“I was on my way home after a night out with the guys from work. A bunch of us go out once a month and…”
“Could you describe the men?” interjected Sanna.
“It was dark and cold and very windy. I was careful not to let them see me so it was hard to get a good look. However, I do remember that, despite the weather, one of them was only wearing a T-shirt. He was quite muscular. Part of me felt sorry for them.”
“Why?”
“Why?”
“Yes, why did you feel sorry for them?”
“Oh, right! Because it’s tough working in those conditions.” He dried his nose with his hand and grinned lopsidedly. “I figured they were planting flowers in the park. You get a good body into the bargain of course.”
Sanna smiled to herself. Johan Blixt himself was tall and fit looking with an athletic build.
“So you thought they were gardeners?”
He looked sceptically at Sanna. “No, I don’t think so.”
“But you just said you thought they were planting flowers!”
“Yes, but it was hard to see what they were doing,” he shrugged.
“What did they do with the garbage bag?”
“Well, they dug some sort of ditch near a tree but then for some reason they seemed to change their plans and carried the bag back to the car and drove off.”
“Did you follow them?”
“No! Why would I do that? I was in a hurry to get home.”
“Any other details you remember? Their appearance?”
“Yeah, what more can I say? They were tall, around one ninety or so. Swedes probably. One of them wore a black T-shirt that emphasized his muscles. I think he had a tattoo on his upper arm.
“Which arm? What kind of tattoo?”
Johan Blixt threw his hands in the air and shrugged his shoulders.
“Try to remember, it’s important.”
He grimaced. “As I told you, it was hard to see.”
“And the rest of their clothes?”
“They were both wearing black combat boots. One of them had a green military overall and the muscular one was wearing blue jeans and a black cap pulled down over his eyes so I couldn’t see his face.”
“And the other one? Could you see what he looked like?”
Johan Blixt pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, unfortunately not. He was also wearing a black cap.”
“Tell us everything you remember. Was there anybody else nearby?”
The witness thought for a moment. “Didn’t I tell you? There was somebody sitting in the driver’s seat but I couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman.”
Sanna was sceptical. He claimed that he had driven by quickly, that he was in a hurry, but then he hid and watched them from a distance. She looked at him suspiciously.
“What’s your profession?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Sure,” he said, stroking his face again. “I’m a freelance security guard.”
Sanna made a note on her tablet computer. That would certainly explain his powers of observation.
THE WORKING DAY WAS DRAWING TO A CLOSE. It was eight o’ clock in the evening. Outside the window the first snowflakes were descending, illuminated under the glow of the streetlights.
Kalle glanced at the clock. He gulped down the rest of the water he had brought with him and threw the bottle into a waste paper bin. It had been a particularly eventful day.
“Are you in a hurry?” asked Sanna.
“What?” replied Kalle abstractedly.
“Are you in a hurry to get home?”
“Not particularly. My mother in law is staying with us at the moment… Mia’s still feeling under the weather after her operation.”
Sanna nodded. She was familiar with the situation. Since Mia’s breast cancer diagnosis Sanna and Kalle’s friendship had deepened. She had been very supportive and had often looked after the children while Kalle accompanied Mia to the hospital for different tests or surgery. Neither Mia nor Kalle’s parents lived in Stockholm, and it was difficult for them to step in at short notice.
According to the surgeon, Mia’s most recent operation had gone well. However, convalescence was slow and painful.
“Four bodies,” said Kalle, thinking aloud.
“Three,” countered Sanna. “I want to see the forensic report first. As yet we can’t tell whether the Tyresö murder is the fourth in the series.”
“Maybe the killer was in a hurry. After all, they took a big risk killing him in his own apartment, in a building where the neighbours could easily have heard what was going on,” argued Kalle.
“Hmm, I have some theories of my own, but we’ll have to wait and see what Segelström and Jonsson come up with. One thing I know for sure is that it’s extremely unusual for a serial killer to change their modus operandi… in that case their signature gets lost.”
“Yes, you’re right, although the mouth gag and burn wounds are similar to the other victims.”
“I know. It’s strange – deep down I was disappointed to find out that this murder was different from the others,” said Sanna.
“I get it. It would almost be a relief to find other bodies and finally be able to decipher the message. Let’s hope we’re not dealing with a copycat here.”
“Yup. See you tomorrow. Say hi to Mia.”
CHAPTER 38
Malmö – A Sickening Discovery
THE HEAVY SNOWFALL put paid to their plans. They had been wandering for two days in search of an abandoned house or other place of refuge. Their original intention had been to break into one of the isolated summer cottages to steal alcohol and anything else they could find of value. However, the weather defeated them and they decided to cut their losses and return to the city, empty-handed. Inside the dense forest they completely lost their bearings. They had no idea where they were. Their only option was to keep looking for a protected place and shelter from the elements.
“I’ll be damned, there’s a house!” exclaimed one of the men. He was tall and lanky and dressed in a lightweight windproof jacket.
“At last!” said his scraggy companion, rubbing his hands together. “Is it empty?”
All of a sudden there was a huge gust of wind mixed with snow and rain and their flimsy clothes became soaked. The biting cold was unbearable and their breaths formed small clouds in the freezing air.
“It looks like it. It’s dark inside,” said the tall man, shivering and trying to warm his hands in the sleeves of his jacket. He knocked on the front door.
Both men stared expectantly at the door, prepared to use force if necessary. They would have to enter the property whatever the circumstances. The alternative was freezing to death.
No answer.
They walked around the house, checking all the windows. The building was securely locked and they had no tools with them. They stared at each other. The tall man picked up a medium sized stone and threw it at the back door window, shattering the glass.
They glanced behind them to see if anybody had heard.
The taller of the two tentatively slipped his hand through the crushed pane of glass and turned the latch.
They hurried
into the house and ran back outside almost immediately.
“Holy shit! What the hell’s that?” screamed the tall man.
The other man scurried away from the house and vomited yellow liquid.
“A dead dog?”
“No idea but it definitely smells like rotting flesh. You’d think there was a dead bear in there or something. Fuck it’s disgusting!”
CHIEF INSPECTOR GUSTAV LINDSTRÖM from Malmö district studied the victim with a certain degree of consternation. After receiving information that two men had found a badly battered corpse in a remote summer cottage south of the city he had decided to investigate the matter himself. Considering the circumstances and the nature of the crime he immediately contacted the forensic technicians and ordered the area to be sealed off.
The victim lay on the right hand side of the bed. His feet were bound together with a leather belt and his hands were tied behind his back.
Gustav Lindström surveyed the scene.
“Disgusting smell,” remarked a colleague as he entered the room.
“Hmm, but look how tidy everything is,” said Lindström.
“Yeah, that’s strange. Maybe the victim was moved here after the murder.”
“That’s a possibility,” said the Chief Inspector. “We need to contact Sanna Johansson. She’ll definitely be interested in this one!”
“Oh really, Why?”
“Because she has a number of similar murders on her books… plus the victim’s position on the bed reminds me of the Gothenburg and Stockholm cases,” replied Lindström, fishing the telephone out of his pocket and walking out of the cottage to make a call.
Lindström’s colleague watched him leave the room but was distracted by a man in a white overall who was also on his way out.
“We’re done here. I’ll ask the guys outside to take the body to Forensics,” said the pathologist.
“To Lund?”
“Yup.”
THE PALE, ASHEN CORPSE, brightly illuminated under the fluorescent light, lay on the autopsy table at the National Forensic Centre in Lund. The pathologist, an ordinary looking man in his forties, loosened the tightly knotted leather belt revealing deep imprints in the victim’s wrists. He held the belt in his hand, frowning as he inspected it, then placed it into a plastic bag and walked over to the recording device to continue his report:
“The dried out, exfoliated skin on the penis is typical of blisters caused by burn wounds or a corrosive substance. We await the lab results, which should be ready within a couple of days.”
He continued his examination of the open cadaver, which had been prepared for him by the autopsy assistant. Half an hour later, he had completed his task. He paused for a moment to study the wounds on the victim’s wrists then glanced at the plastic bag where he had placed the belt.
“Check object number ten, the belt, for fingerprints or suchlike.”
CHAPTER 39
Not Completely Unexpected
ANDERS SEGELSTRÖM was astonished. He put down the pathology report and made a note on his tablet computer.
Findings from the preliminary pathological examination carried out the same day as the discovery of the fifty-year-old man’s body in Tyresö indicated that the victim had suffocated to death. The only sign of violence was a burn wound typically associated with the use of a Taser gun – a tool that was commonly used by police officers. In addition, a piece of paper with the letter S had been inserted into the head of his penis.
He picked up the receiver to call Sanna Johansson but changed his mind. He had intended to notify her that all the indications pointed to this being the work of their serial killer. He got up from his chair and walked to Blom’s office, only to find that his boss wasn’t there.
As Segelström turned to leave he saw Sanna approaching. The colour rose in his face.
“How’s it going with the Tyresö case?” she asked.
“It’s going well,” he said guardedly. “I received the forensics report today.”
“And?”
“There was a letter inserted into the victim’s penis.”
Sanna looked at him intently. “Is that the report in your hand?”
“This? No… it’s another case I want to talk to Blom about,” he replied, averting his eyes.
At that moment Allan Jonsson hurtled down the corridor towards them waving a piece of paper.
“Sanna! It looks like the same killer!” He glanced at the papers in Segelström’s hands. “I see you’ve already told her!”
Segelström shook his head.
“But the report’s in your hand!” insisted Allan Jonsson.
Segelström walked away, embarrassed.
“Did I say something stupid?”
“No, nothing.”
“Haven’t you received the report yet?”
“Yes, but I haven’t had time to read it yet…”
“We’ve got our fourth victim! It’s Bosse Krom! There was a letter inserted into his penis, so it has to be our serial killer – unless we’re dealing with a copycat.”
Sanna stared fixedly at him. “Gather the team and tell them there’s a meeting in thirty minutes in the investigation room. Segelström too.”
She turned and headed towards her office but paused after a few steps and turned to Jonsson.
“By the way, hold off reporting the new information until tomorrow’s meeting.”
AFTER A QUICK GLANCE AT the forensic report on the fifty-four year old man, Sanna decided to check out the case more closely.
She strolled over to the window. It was a cloudless December day and the sun was beating down. She grabbed her helmet and made her way to the garage, climbed onto her motorcycle and rode off to Solna’s Forensic department. According to the pathologist, the receptionist would provide her with a pass.
As soon as Sanna was authorized to enter the building, she made her way to the Autopsy room/Morgue, House T9. The pathologist was waiting for her at the end of a long corridor.
“Hi, good to see you again,” said Roberta Suares amiably.
Sanna smiled. “It’s always better to talk face to face with the experts and get the details first hand.”
They entered the room. The pathologist opened the door to a cold chamber and pulled out a bunk containing the body of the fifty-four year old man. The autopsy had already been performed and his body had been stitched back together.
It took about half an hour for Roberta Suares to fully brief Sanna on her findings so far. At the end of her summary she added:
“He had high levels of alcohol in the blood but no other toxic substances.”
“So no drugs?”
“No.”
The pathologist shifted the corpse to reveal the burn wounds.
“The attacker used a Taser.”
Sanna photographed the injury with her iPhone. She enlarged the image to take a closer look.
The pathologist walked over to her. She pointed at the photograph.
“Look. There’s a defect in the Taser. One of the shots caused a deeper wound than the others. You can compare it with the burn wounds on the other victims and see whether it was the same gun.”
“You’re right! Damn, we didn’t think of that!” she exclaimed, smiling broadly.
“Segelström already knows. I’m sure he’ll mention it when he delivers his report.”
“I see,” said Sanna, reluctant to let on that she had already spoken to him. “Did he notice it himself?”
“No, I pointed it out to him, and he was very excited about the discovery.”
The pathologist continued chronicling her observations and thirty minutes later Sanna was on her way back to the police headquarters. She was curious about Segelström. Was he reverting to his previous pattern of behaviour or did he intend to share the details at the morning meeting?
CHAPTER 40
The Malmö Polis make contact
AT QUARTER PAST ONE ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON the phone rang. Sanna sighed disgruntledly and lean
ed forward to pick up the receiver without looking up from the document she was reading.
“Sanna Johansson.”
“Hello, this is Gustav Lindström,” said a man with a thick, husky voice.
“Hi, Gustav!”
“We’ve found another one!”
“Another one?”
“Yup!”
“Where? In Malmö?”
“Yes. An hour outside Malmö, out in the boonies.”
“I don’t understand – in Malmö?”
“Yes, this one’s been there a while.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s almost completely mummified. If we hadn’t found the victim’s ID card nearby I’d have guessed he’d been there at least ten years.”
“So you’ve got his ID?”
“Yes. I realize that this is a bit of a departure from the norm but that’s how it’s been in this case. Oh yes, we’ve got his mobile as well.”
“I see, but how come you’re so sure he hasn’t been there for ten years?”
“Because four years ago he was the defendant in a controversial trial I was involved in.
He received a number of court summons but never showed up and we assumed he had left the country. We’ll have to see what the pathologist says, but he was definitely alive four years ago.”
“What’s his name?”
Gustav Lindström cleared his throat again. “Oh, didn’t I mention it? His name’s Anton Lidman. He’s fifty years old and he has a criminal record.”
“Anton Lidman!” repeated Sanna. “Anton Jukka Lidman?”
“Yes,” he said hesitatingly. “How did you know?”
“We’ve been looking for him. What was he convicted of?”
“He attacked a prostitute. We had enough technical evidence to put him away, including a doctor’s certificate and clear signs of abuse, even torture. But for some extraordinary reason the prosecutor messed up during the custody negotiations and Lidman was freed on all counts, damn it!”
Silence.
“I’ve emailed you the crime scene photos. It looks as if the murderer improvised and used whatever he could get his hands on.”
Sanna opened her inbox and scrolled through the photos.
“Yes, you’re right.”
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