In Bad Company (Sandhamn Murders)

by Viveca Sten

  Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. Had she really been so brave, finally dared to stand up for herself and Lukas?

  The pictures of her battered body had been her deepest secret. She was so ashamed; it had been impossible to share them with anyone. No one must know what was going on. Now she’d taken irrevocable action.

  She slipped into the bathroom, then returned to her bedroom. It was beginning to grow light outside; she caught a glimpse of the gray dawn through the gap at the side of the roller blind. The sun was rising.

  She got back into bed and closed her eyes. Anna-Maria had assured her that she’d done the right thing. She would never have to be afraid of Andreis again.

  Still the tears came.

  It was hard to believe that it was really true, that she was safe, but she felt safer than she’d been for years. She trusted Nora and Leila when they assured her that Andreis couldn’t get to her.

  Leila wasn’t like the other police officers she’d met—tall, well-built men who’d tried to persuade her to testify against Andreis. They’d made no attempt to hide their frustration when she refused to cooperate; sometimes they would roll their eyes and sigh at her explanations for her injuries. One of them had gone so far as to say that she had only herself to blame if she came out with excuses so transparent that anyone could see they were made up.

  Leila was different. She was tough, but she was on Mina’s side. Anna-Maria had been a huge support, too. Mina would never have imagined that there were so many people who wanted to help her.

  She got out of bed and took her blanket over to the armchair by the window. She’d often sat there over the past few days. There was something peaceful about the view of the water; from time to time a boat would pass through the sound, even though it was early in the season. It was easy to picture how beautiful it would be in a month or so, when everything was in bloom. The birch trees were already showing the first tiny leaves, like a mouse’s ears, suggesting that spring would be early this year. A few weeks of warmth and the hawthorn would be out. Nothing smelled as sweet as white hawthorn blossom.

  Mina curled up and wrapped herself in the blanket. The dawn chorus of birdsong was beginning; it would soon be May, the best month of the year. The light evenings grew longer, and the promise of summer was in the air.

  Everything was going to be fine. She would make a fresh start with Lukas.

  She wouldn’t be afraid anymore.

  CHAPTER 102

  The conference room was already pretty full when Thomas walked in, his eyes gritty. Yet another night when he hadn’t managed to fall asleep until the early hours. His body felt slow and heavy, and Elin had been especially difficult on the way to school.

  It had been a crap morning. He still hadn’t spoken to Pernilla, and he knew he ought to call his mother, smooth over yesterday’s disagreement.

  Aram was sitting beside Staffan Nilsson, and raised a hand in greeting. Most of the extra officers were gathered at the far end of the table. Thomas hardly recognized any of them; since the move to Flemingsberg, everything had grown bigger and more anonymous.

  Nothing had improved.

  “Late night?” Aram asked as Thomas sat down opposite him.

  Was it that obvious? He was about to mumble some excuse when Margit arrived and saved him. She closed the door behind her, balancing a pile of papers and a coffee cup in one hand.

  She nodded to Nilsson. “Staffan, can you tell us where we are?”

  Nilsson pointed to the photographs of Dino Herco and the location of the shallow grave displayed on the whiteboard. The enlarged shots clearly showed the injuries to his face and wrists. Other pictures had been taken elsewhere in the forest, where a dog team had found signs of a parked car. There were no distinguishing features on the tire tracks, unfortunately. There were thousands of cars with that type of tire.

  It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

  “If we start with the victim, he’s now with pathology in Solna for the autopsy. They’re pretty busy at the moment, so it’s likely to be a week or so before we have the results,” Nilsson began.

  Margit sighed.

  “However, I’m pretty sure they’ll confirm our own conclusions,” Nilsson added.

  “Which means?” Margit said.

  “That the gunshot was fatal, and that it was delivered by someone beside him or diagonally behind.”

  There was nothing new about this information. Was it Nilsson’s way of dealing with his own frustration over the constant delays at the medical examiner’s office and the National Forensics Center? The lack of resources irritated everyone.

  “Can you tell us something we don’t know?” Margit snapped.

  “It’s only been twenty-four hours,” Nilsson countered. “We have no crime scene, no murder weapon, no bullet.” He leaned back and folded his arms. “What do you expect?”

  Less than ten minutes, and the atmosphere in the room was already tetchy.

  Thomas tried to get his weary brain cells to focus. Maybe they were wrong to suspect Kovač? Herco’s death could be an act of revenge from some rival narcotics gang who wanted to take over the territory, making their point to Kovač by taking out his right-hand man.

  Then again, Leila had sounded very sure of herself when she said they ought to concentrate on Kovač. As far as she was concerned, there wasn’t a shadow of doubt that he was guilty of murdering Herco.

  Nilsson was still talking about his conclusions, but Thomas wasn’t really listening. Until Margit’s voice brought him back to reality.

  “Over to you, Thomas.”

  “Sorry?”

  Suddenly everyone was staring at him. Margit frowned and repeated her question. “You were going to liaise with the Economic Crimes Authority. Did you find out anything useful?”

  “Absolutely. I spoke to the prosecutor in charge of the case yesterday evening,” he said without mentioning Nora’s name. Margit already knew she was involved. “The ECA is convinced that Andreis Kovač is behind the murder, given his history and previous relationship with the victim. They describe him as dangerous and ruthless. I’ve also spoken to Narcotics, who’ve been keeping an eye on Kovač for a long time, and they share that opinion.”

  His mind went blank; he couldn’t recall anything else that Nora had said on the phone last night, or anything else from Narcotics. Somehow he had to get a full night’s sleep, or he wouldn’t be able to do his job.

  Aram shot him a worried look, and his brain started working again.

  “The prosecutor also confirmed that Kovač is left-handed, which fits with the injuries to the victim’s face.”

  Nilsson appeared to be slightly mollified; this backed up his own hypothesis.

  Margit made a note. “In that case I think you’d better bring him in for questioning as soon as possible.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Aram said quickly, as if he didn’t trust Thomas to respond.

  Bosnia, May 1993

  Zlatko’s gaze bored into Selma. She was still standing there, clutching his wallet.

  In seconds he was out of bed and by her side. She instinctively cowered, although he hadn’t yet raised his fist.

  “What are you doing?” he said, his eyes filled with suspicion.

  “It . . . it fell out of your pocket,” she stammered, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. “I was just picking it up off the floor.” She placed it on the chest of drawers, hiding the notes in her left hand.

  “Have you stolen money from me?”

  For the first time during their marriage, Selma wished her husband had drunk himself into a stupor. Then she could simply have walked out on him, consoled herself with the knowledge that they had loved each other once, before the war broke out.

  Before everything was reduced to ashes.

  The tension was unbearable.

  “We’re leaving first thing in the morning,” she sobbed. “We can’t stay here any longer. We’ll die if we do.”

  He still didn
’t understand what she was talking about.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice thick with tears. She could hear the desperation in her voice. “I still love you,” she whispered, knowing it was true. “But I have to save the children.”

  Any second now, he would lose control, but she couldn’t let him stop her from getting the boys to safety. Even if he beat her half to death, she was determined to make sure that Andreis and Emir grew up in a country free from war and bloody massacres.

  The love for her husband remained, in spite of everything that had happened between them over the past year, but nothing was stronger than her love for her children.

  “We’re going with Blanka and Dario. She says it’s possible to drive to Hungary via Croatia. We’re aiming for Sweden; they’ll accept us.”

  Zlatko’s expression changed. The anger and bitterness that had tainted their relationship for so long disappeared. He pulled her close and held her.

  Selma didn’t know what to think. Could she allow herself to relax in his arms?

  “In that case I’ll come with you,” he murmured, stroking her hair. It had begun to turn silver at the temples in recent months. “You were right all along. I was just too stubborn to see it.”

  Selma couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing, but at last she was weeping tears of joy, not sorrow.

  “I’m not losing my family,” Zlatko went on, hugging her tightly. “We’ll all go, at first light. Families stick together.”

  CHAPTER 103

  Ulrika had found it impossible to concentrate all morning, even though she had a great deal of preparation to do for the afternoon’s trial. Her client was accused of stealing goods in transit, and had already been remanded in custody for quite some time. He was also teetering on the brink of depression.

  In a couple of hours she would have to get in the car and drive to the courthouse. Before then she needed to polish her opening address, and check a few legal details. Nico was going with her.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Yes?”

  Nico came in clutching a pile of documents—presumably the cases she’d asked him to dig out at short notice.

  “I just wondered—what time are we leaving?” he said.

  “Twelve fifteen.” Ulrika gave him a look. “Don’t you have a calendar where you can keep track of your appointments?”

  “Yes, sorry.” He placed the papers on her desk, then turned away.

  “Close the door behind you,” she called after him. She knew she sounded disproportionately annoyed, but her nerves were as taut as violin strings. Kovač still hadn’t been in touch, although she’d left even more voice mail messages.

  She’d also tried Herman Wibom, but he wasn’t answering his cell phone. She was reluctant to contact his secretary; she didn’t want to arouse suspicions unnecessarily.

  When her office phone rang, she grabbed the receiver with such force that the whole thing nearly fell on the floor.

  It was her dishwasher repairman. He couldn’t make it today—would next week be OK?

  Ulrika put down the receiver, then took a swipe at the documents Nico had brought, scattering them in all directions like oversized snowflakes.

  Shit!

  One last sheet of paper drifted down onto the carpet.

  Where the hell was Kovač?

  She picked up her cell phone and called his number one last time.

  “Hello?” a voice mumbled. Ulrika couldn’t determine whether she’d woken him, or he was drunk.

  “Didn’t you get my messages?”

  “I’m sleeping. I can’t talk to you right now.”

  The call ended, leaving Ulrika staring in disbelief at her phone. Who the fuck did he think he was? She sent a message:

  Call me!!!

  Three exclamation marks to underline the urgency of the situation. He would no doubt ignore that as well, just as he ignored anything he didn’t regard as important.

  She couldn’t settle; the restlessness was eating her up.

  She called Herman Wibom yet again, listened to the signals ringing out until voice mail took over. She didn’t leave a message. She took several deep breaths, then looked up the number of his practice.

  His secretary answered. Ulrika recognized her voice; she had a good memory when it came to people.

  She didn’t bother introducing herself. “I need to speak to Herman Wibom.”

  “Who’s calling?”

  Ulrika hesitated. No one could dispute the fact that she had a legitimate reason for contacting Wibom. She was representing Andreis Kovač; she could always claim that he wanted to know how his son was.

  “Ulrika Grönstedt. I’m an attorney,” she said reluctantly.

  There was a brief pause. Ulrika held her breath. She was still hoping to be put through to Wibom, in which case her fears would prove to be unfounded.

  “I’m afraid he’s not here,” the secretary said.

  “When will he be in?”

  “I don’t actually know. I haven’t heard from him this morning.”

  CHAPTER 104

  The sky was overcast, but the day was pleasantly warm. Mina decided to take Lukas out for some fresh air.

  She settled him in his stroller and set out along the road. Anna-Maria had mentioned Solberga farm, a family-run business in the south of the island. They grew crops and farmed sheep, and apparently there was a really nice store. Maybe she could find a soft sheepskin blanket for Lukas’s stroller.

  He fell asleep after only ten minutes.

  She still had that secure feeling from earlier this morning, a kind of warmth in her heart. It was a long time since she’d felt that way.

  She was almost happy.

  It was good to get out. Her ribs didn’t hurt so much anymore, and with a little makeup, she looked perfectly normal. She missed the opportunity to exercise; maybe she could ask someone at the shelter to watch Lukas tomorrow morning so that she could go for a run?

  She passed the bridge leading to Storö and continued beside the narrow channel between the islands. There wasn’t a soul in sight, but she didn’t mind. In fact she appreciated the peace and quiet. Several new women had arrived at the shelter over the past couple of days, and there were people everywhere.

  Her phone rang just as the road curved away from the water. Mina accepted the call without checking who it was. Her heart began to pound. How could she be so stupid? She stared in horror at the display, then realized there was no need to be afraid.

  It wasn’t Andreis calling to hassle her; it was her father.

  “Hi, Dad,” she said cheerfully. “How’s Mom?”

  “Darling Mina.” His voice broke, and she could hear what sounded like sobs.

  “Dad?”

  His distress turned her blood to ice.

  “What’s happened, Dad?”

  “It’s Mom.”

  “What do you mean ‘It’s Mom’?”

  “She . . . she’s not with us anymore.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Mom passed away an hour ago.”

  Mina swayed. It couldn’t be true. She was having a nightmare, just like the other day. She was asleep in her bed; she would wake up in a minute, and everything would be back to normal.

  Like this morning, when she’d almost felt happy.

  “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

  Her father’s voice penetrated Mina’s consciousness. She let go of the stroller and doubled over. The phone slipped from her grasp and fell to the ground.

  No, no, no.

  She was violently sick, right in the middle of the road. From a great distance she heard her father calling out her name.

  “Mina? Mina! Hello? Are you still there?”

  She vomited until there was nothing left in her stomach. In the end she was bringing up clear phlegm that hurt her throat.

  “Mina? Mina?”

  Slowly she began to breathe. She picked up the phone, leaned on the handle of the stroller for suppor
t, and managed to straighten up.

  How could anything hurt so much?

  “Sorry,” she whispered eventually. “I dropped my phone.” Her hands were shaking so much that she could hardly hold the phone to her ear. She forced her voice to obey. “What happened?”

  “Her condition deteriorated during the night. I thought they were going to be able to save her. She got worse the other day, too, but they stabilized her. She . . . she just stopped breathing.”

  Mina couldn’t speak.

  “There was nothing they could do. They tried, but it was too late. She’d had a cardiac arrest, and her heart was too weak.”

  He let out a sob.

  “She passed away at twenty to nine this morning. I’ve been sitting with her ever since. I couldn’t just get up and walk away, so I sat beside her and held her hand until they came for her.”

  Mina stared at the remains of her breakfast in the dusty gravel. It stank, and something pink and half digested, with little lumps in it, had splashed onto one of her boots.

  Bright green blades of grass were sticking up in the middle of the disgusting slop.

  Tears poured down her cheeks.

  “She looked so peaceful lying there,” her father went on. “I think she murmured your name before she . . . fell asleep. She was thinking of you right to the end. Always remember that.”

  Mina couldn’t take it in. Her mother would never give her another hug or a reassuring pat on the cheek, never hold Lukas in her arms.

  She was sweating and shivering at the same time.

  “She loved you so much, Mina.” Dad’s breathing was uneven. “She wasn’t in pain. The staff assured me of that; she didn’t suffer.”

  Guilt sucked all the air out of her lungs.

  This was all her fault.

  If she hadn’t gotten together with Andreis, none of this would have happened. He wouldn’t have gone to her parents’ house and threatened them. If she hadn’t married Andreis, her mother would still be alive.

  Mina turned the stroller around and set off back the way she’d come, when everything was fine.