In Bad Company (Sandhamn Murders)

by Viveca Sten

  “New fashion?” Nora joked. “Has Bamse got any fur left, or did you bring it all with you?”

  Leila sighed and fished a lint roller out of her purse to get rid of the worst of it. Not that it made much difference. “Don’t be like that,” she said. “I think we might have an eyewitness to the assault on Mina Kovač.”

  That would change things significantly. Nora nodded appreciatively. “Tell me more.”

  They set off up the hill. The road was tarmac, because unlike on Sandhamn, there were about a hundred cars on Runmarö, including taxis to transport children to and from school. However, the island had no public transport. It was roughly a fifteen-minute walk to Freya’s Haven.

  “The emergency dispatch center finally got back to us,” Leila explained. “It was a man who called on Monday night. He refused to give his name or any contact details, but we did get his phone number, which we were able to trace.” Leila sounded pleased with herself, not surprisingly. “It’s a cell phone belonging to a guy called Dino Herco.”

  “Does he have a record?”

  “No. I’ve run his ID number through our databases, but there’s nothing on him—not even a parking fine. He’s registered at an address in Farsta, which means he doesn’t live in the same part of town as Kovač.”

  So Herco wasn’t a neighbor who’d happened to be passing and heard Mina screaming.

  They’d passed the local store and reached a fork in the road. The medical center and library were in Uppeby to the left; they continued straight toward Freya’s Haven, which lay on the south side of the island, not far from the Runmarö Canal.

  “The name made me curious,” Leila continued. “Turns out it’s a Bosnian surname. When I took a closer look, I found out something interesting. Dino Herco came here as a refugee in the mid-1990s, after the Bosnian War. He grew up in Nyköping.”

  Just like Andreis Kovač.

  Nora didn’t believe in coincidences.

  CHAPTER 27

  Freya’s Haven blended in perfectly with its idyllic surroundings. It was painted white and looked as if it had been built at the turn of the last century, with leaded windows and ornate carvings above the main entrance. Several small red cabins surrounded the lawn; each had a small patio with a table and chairs. Even though it was only April and nothing was in leaf or bloom yet, it was easy to see how lovely it must be in the late spring and summer.

  Nora opened the gate and led the way up the neatly raked gravel path.

  Did this peaceful environment make the women feel better, or were those who came here so traumatized that they hardly noticed? Nora had no idea, but before she could ponder the matter any further, the front door was opened by a woman in her fifties with round glasses and graying hair tied back in a ponytail.

  She held out her hand and introduced herself as Anna-Maria Petersén, the manager of the shelter. She knew Leila from her visit the previous day, but asked to see Nora’s ID before she let them in. She showed them to a pleasant room at the back of the house.

  A pretty pink tiled stove stood in one corner, and Mina was sitting in an armchair beside it, with a sleeping baby in her arms. Her blond hair was lank and greasy.

  Anna-Maria gently took Lukas without waking him. “I’ll look after him so that you can talk in peace,” she said, nodding toward a tray with a thermos and a plate of cookies. “Help yourselves to coffee.”

  Nora sat down on the sofa opposite Mina while Leila set up the tape recorder. She had to find the right words; where should she begin? She needed to persuade Mina to tell her what had happened before the ambulance arrived. Above all, she had to get Mina to trust her and Leila. Mina was terrified of her husband, for obvious reasons, but the only way to protect her was to convict him.

  The logic was clear, but fear is not logical.

  “Thanks for seeing us,” Nora said. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure your husband goes to jail for a long time, but I need your help.”

  Mina refused to meet Nora’s gaze, even though she was the one who’d called Leila and asked them to come over. Her face was slightly less swollen, but the bruises had darkened.

  “If he’s locked up, he can’t hurt you,” Leila said. “It’s the only way for you to feel safe again.”

  Mina started to weep, and Leila passed her a tissue.

  “It’s OK to cry,” she said, gently stroking Mina’s arm. “We’re in no hurry.”

  It was a long time before Mina calmed down enough to talk about Monday evening.

  “Andreis was already mad when he got home. I was sitting in the living room with Lukas on my lap. As soon as I saw Andreis, I knew he was in a bad mood.”

  “How did you know?”

  “His eyes. They get narrower. Harder.” Mina took another tissue out of the packet. “I didn’t know what had knocked him off balance this time. He wasn’t sober either.”

  “Is this a regular occurrence?” Nora asked.

  “I’m afraid so. Recently he’s always been under the influence of either alcohol or something else in the evenings.”

  “What does he take?”

  “I’ve never asked.”

  “Were you scared when you saw him on Monday?”

  “Yes.” The answer was almost inaudible. “I knew he was going to hurt me; he was just looking for a reason to get mad. He needed to take out his anger on someone.” Mina grimaced. “On me.”

  “Do you feel strong enough to tell us what happened next?” Nora prompted her gently.

  “I’d forgotten to put away the vacuum cleaner. It was in the middle of the kitchen floor. Andreis is very . . . particular about the house being clean and tidy. He saw it and went crazy. He called me terrible names, ‘whore’ . . . and worse.”

  “What did you do?”

  Mina’s hand crept up to her bruised cheek. “My only thought was to protect Lukas. I just had time to put him down before Andreis . . .”

  “Before Andreis did what?” Leila said quietly.

  Careful now, Nora thought.

  “He grabbed me by the hair, dragged me into the kitchen, and threw me on the floor next to the vacuum cleaner. Then he pulled me up again and started punching me in the face. He wouldn’t stop.” Mina’s voice was no more than a whisper. “I collapsed. I think he kicked me while I was lying there. My chest and side really hurt.”

  Two broken ribs, one cracked, according to hospital records.

  “You had to have stitches in your eyebrow,” Leila reminded her.

  Tears were pouring down Mina’s cheeks. “I tried to crawl away, so he kicked me again, and I banged my face on the sharp corner of a cupboard. I wanted to scream for help, but it was hard to get anything out. I did try though.”

  “What did he do next?” Nora asked.

  “I think he grabbed me by the throat, but I don’t really remember, everything was kind of blurred. I couldn’t see properly, there was so much blood—it was in my eyes and my mouth.”

  Lukas had been lying in his crib just yards away, but that hadn’t stopped Andreis.

  Nora felt a sharp pain in her belly. It was Mina who’d been assaulted, but Nora could hardly bear to listen to her appalling account. She was usually proud of her professional attitude at work, and was embarrassed to discover how thin that veneer was. Thomas had been right in a way; the Economic Crimes Authority was a protected workplace.

  Leila was handling the interview much better, asking one relevant question after another. Without coming across as either cold or gratuitously curious, she managed to get Mina to describe the entire course of events. It was important to record every detail if the charge was going to be based on solid ground.

  Nora admired her colleague. Why couldn’t she be as objective as Leila instead of getting upset? She was furious with Kovač, even though she knew it was unprofessional. She mustn’t take this personally; she was there to do her job.

  She took a deep breath and forced herself to focus. “We need to talk about Andreis’s . . . business affairs,” she sa
id, pouring herself another cup of coffee. She immediately regretted her choice of words. Business affairs sounded respectable, not like an empire built on getting people addicted to drugs and ruining their lives. However, she didn’t want to frighten Mina any more than necessary; she was already fragile enough.

  “I don’t know anything about his business.” The answer came quickly.

  “You don’t discuss his work?”

  Mina shook her head.

  “Have you never heard him talking about work on the phone?” Leila ventured.

  Mina pulled her cardigan more tightly around her body.

  “Maybe you’ve seen a text message on his cell phone?” Nora suggested.

  “I don’t remember.”

  Nora was convinced that Mina knew more than she was prepared to reveal, but she didn’t dare push her too hard. It was essential to build up trust so that Mina would feel safe and able to open up to them.

  And of course it wasn’t just a matter of sitting here, having a private conversation. Mina would have to be willing to testify in court, with her husband in the dock. Ulrika Grönstedt would do her best to tear Mina to pieces if she got the chance.

  Leila carried on fishing. “Has Andreis ever left papers lying around? He can’t keep everything in his head.”

  Mina closed her eyes. “I don’t remember.”

  She was clearly exhausted. It was probably best to bring things to a close for the time being.

  “We can talk about this another day,” Nora said. “Would it be OK if we come back on Monday?”

  Mina needed legal representation, an experienced lawyer who could help her deal with the trial and protect her interests. Someone who was purely on Mina’s side. Nora would put in an application to the court as soon as she was back at her desk.

  “The only way to put a stop to this is for your husband to be charged and convicted,” she continued. “With your help I can put him behind bars for many years, which means that you and your son will be safe.”

  “No,” Mina murmured. “Andreis will kill me if I testify against him.”

  “We can protect you,” Leila assured her.

  Mina hunched her shoulders but didn’t say a word.

  “Think about Lukas,” Nora said, even though she didn’t like using the boy in this way. “Who’ll take care of him if your husband kills you the next time he loses his temper?”

  Mina’s eyes filled with tears once more. “I guess I could try . . .”

  Nora leaned forward. “You won’t regret this, Mina.”

  Bosnia, September 1992

  Andreis was woken by the morning sun shining in through the window; everyone else was still asleep. Emir was in his crib, his mouth half-open. The house was silent. Andreis pulled on his pants and T-shirt and ran out into the garden.

  The little stream was babbling cheerfully in the far corner where the raspberry canes were heavy with red fruit. The grass was damp beneath his bare feet, and the plum tree glowed purple. Andreis reached up to pick some plums and stuffed them in his mouth, the juice running down his chin. Under normal circumstances they would have harvested the plums this weekend, but nothing was normal anymore.

  Andreis loved the festivities when the plums were picked to make šljivovica, the plum brandy the adults drank. The whole family gathered for the occasion, cousins, aunts, and uncles, everyone working together with great big baskets until the laden trees had been cleared of every last piece of fruit, and the color had changed from purple to green. The plums were poured into old wooden barrels to ferment. In the evening food was served outdoors at long tables, huge plates of grilled meat, corn on the cob, and roasted peppers, plus round loaves of bread that his mother had baked in the oven.

  Andreis was allowed to eat as much as he wanted, and to stay up until he fell asleep or his father carried him to bed.

  He spat out a couple of plum pits into the clear, sparkling water. It was already warm, even though it was so early. The last white veils of mist over the fields had begun to disperse as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

  A dull roar that Andreis hadn’t heard before caught his attention. It didn’t sound like an ordinary car. Much more exciting.

  He placed his foot on the lowest branch of his favorite tree and scrambled up until he could peer over the wall. Something large and a dull-green color was rolling past farther down the street. Andreis had never seen anything like it. It looked like a beetle on a caterpillar band; there was a kind of tower on the top with a pipe sticking out of it.

  Andreis watched the vehicle until it turned the corner and vanished from view. He must ask Mom what it was. There didn’t seem to be anyone driving it.

  A whistling sound sliced through the silence. Andreis looked all around but couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.

  Suddenly there was an explosion on the other side of the river, creating a wall of flames. Gray-and-white clouds of smoke obscured the view. So much smoke . . .

  Andreis’s ears were hurting, and the blast had almost hurled him to the ground. The door flew open and his mother came rushing out. She crouched as she ran, keeping her head down.

  “You stupid boy!” she shouted, wrapping her arms around Andreis. “Quick, we need to hide indoors!”

  Until that point Andreis hadn’t been worried, just curious about the strange noises. The fear came when he saw his mother’s tears.

  CHAPTER 28

  Nora and Leila reached the jetty with only five minutes to spare before the ferry to Stavsnäs was due to depart. Nora was planning to wait in the little ice-cream café at the harbor; there wasn’t a boat from Stavsnäs to Sandhamn for another hour.

  Leila was checking her phone.

  “We should have asked Mina if she knew a Dino Herco,” Nora said.

  “We can do that on Monday. I think she’d had enough,” Leila replied. She held up her phone to show Nora an address. “How about going to see him? He lives in Farsta Strand—it won’t take more than forty-five minutes to get there if we take Nynäsvägen.”

  Nora looked at her watch; it was only twelve thirty. The last boat to Sandhamn left at six, and Simon had already promised to watch Julia.

  “He must have seen or heard something if he called emergency services,” Leila went on. “If we could persuade him to testify against Kovač as well, that would make our case even stronger. And if we can tell Mina we have a witness who backs up her story, that might make her open up more when we see her again.”

  The ferry was approaching the jetty. Nora adjusted the strap of her purse and nodded. “My car is in Stavsnäs. Let’s do it.”

  Dino Herco lived in Farsta Strand, a scenic area that had been developed in the 1960s. Nora drew up outside the mustard-yellow six-story apartment building. Identical buildings lined the street in a style typical of the era. There were no flower beds to soften the harshness, but a copse of trees was visible a short distance away, next to a square parking lot.

  There wasn’t a soul in sight when they got out of the car.

  Nora found the list of residents in the foyer; Herco lived on the top floor. When they rang the doorbell, a brown-eyed man in his thirties answered. His muscles bulged beneath his spotless white T-shirt; he was clean-shaven, with his hair slicked back.

  Leila produced her police ID and asked if they could come in.

  “Why would I want to talk to you?” Herco placed his hand on the doorframe, barring the way.

  “You don’t have to talk to us,” Leila said patiently, “but it would be helpful if we could come in, since we’re here. It won’t take long.”

  Herco didn’t move. “Have you got a warrant?”

  “We don’t need a warrant to ask a few questions,” Nora clarified. “It’s only in American cop shows that written documentation is required in order to enter someone’s home.”

  “Of course you can come down to the police station with us if you prefer,” Leila said politely.

  Herco thought for a moment, then stepped aside and let the
m into the light and airy two-room apartment. He led the way into a spacious kitchen. The view from the window was like a painting, with the sun sparkling on Lake Magelungen down below. It reminded Nora of the view from the Grönskär Lighthouse just off Sandhamn—sea and sky in harmony.

  Leila pulled out a chair, sat down, and explained why they were there. Then she got straight to the point.

  “Was it you who called the emergency number on Monday evening when Mina Kovač was being assaulted by her husband?”

  “Who?” His Swedish pronunciation was perfect. He was only seven years old when he came to Sweden with his parents and two siblings. Leila had summarized his background on their way over in the car.

  “Mina Kovač.”

  “I don’t know her.”

  “I understand, but was it you who called and reported the incident when her husband almost killed her?”

  “No.”

  Leila opened her notebook and made a careful note of his answer on a clean page. “So you weren’t on Trastvägen that evening? You weren’t outside the Kovač house at 19:14? That was when the call came through.”

  “No.”

  Nora studied Dino Herco while Leila was asking questions. He was good-looking, with deep-set eyes, but his face was marked by a pale scar running from one temple down to his cheekbone. The wound must have been deep and painful. Maybe he’d sustained it as a child in Bosnia, before the family fled?

  His black hair was cut short, and he had what used to be called a widow’s peak.

  “Are you absolutely sure you weren’t there?”

  “Yes.”

  “So where were you at 19:14?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “The call came from your number, according to the dispatch center.”

  “They must be mistaken.”

  “They seem pretty sure of their facts.” Leila took a sheet of paper out of her bulky purse and held it out so that Herco could read it without difficulty. “There’s your phone number, right there. No mistake.”

  Herco’s eyes slid to the left. “I remember now. My cell phone was stolen last week.”