‘What I’m really interested in is when the relationship between Linus and Göran began to break down. Larissa Bjerstedt told my officers that she thought it started to go wrong on Malta. This was confirmed to me by Carina Lindvall this morning.’
‘Ah, so you’ve spoken to the lovely Carina. She came to the launch of my new book. Said she loved it. Bollocks, of course. I don’t think she’d even opened it. Yes, sorry, I digress. Malta? Yes, Carina’s probably right. The odd argument. Not that I paid much attention. I was just having such a good time. A break from my studies, a bit of sun on my bones. It’s a great place. Stacks of interesting history, which is why I wanted to go there. What’s not to like? I mean, just take the Great Siege of Malta. If the Knights of St. John hadn’t held out against impossible odds, and the Turks had captured the islands, the Ottoman Empire would have had a base to attack Sicily, Italy and France. That could have led to a Muslim takeover of Western Europe. They already had the Eastern Mediterranean sewn up.’ Zetterberg hadn’t the faintest idea what Ivar was talking about, but found it hard not to be caught up by his enthusiasm. ‘1565 was such a pivotal year. La Valette, the Grand Master, said at the time that “it is the great battle between the Cross and the Quran which is now to be fought. A formidable army of infidels are on the point of invading... ”. And doesn’t it strike you that we’re now facing a similar pivotal moment in our own time?’ Zetterberg struggled to put a more animated response into her blank stare. ‘I’m sure you can see the way that Islam is being etched into the very fabric of western life, which is no bad thing, but malignant forces like ISIS are just as intent on conquest as Suleiman the Magnificent.’
She didn’t. ‘I suppose so.’ She was finding it so easy to agree with him. She could understand why few women had said “no” to him. But she had to get back to the case. ‘From talking to one of the members of the original investigating team, it appears that Göran had transferred his affections from Linus to you.’
The suggestion didn’t seem to faze Ivar. ‘There is some truth in that, but nothing was ever going to happen. He drunkenly tried to kiss me one night after a few drinks outside a bar in Valletta. I made it clear that I wasn’t interested. Next morning, it was fine. He apologized. Never mentioned it again.’
Even in Zetterberg’s spellbound state, the nagging seed of suspicion that is embedded in the minds of all detectives began to germinate. Was that too simple an explanation? Was Göran the type of person to just meekly submit?
‘What was Göran like? I know he appears to have been a bit of an outsider. I’m not sure that the girls were fond of him.’
Ivar arched his fingers like a church steeple in front of his mouth. ‘He was an outsider in many ways. He could be prickly; defensive about his background. To get into somewhere like Lund was a huge achievement for the son of a factory worker; a family without any academic aspirations.’ The fingers remained in their thoughtful pose. ‘Being gay was no big deal in Lund, but he kept it from his parents. So there was guilt there. From my point of view, we shared a course and a love for the Middle East. Passion, really. In that respect he was interesting, often stimulating. And when he let his hair down, he could be fun. He certainly made Linus happy for a time until... ’ He broke off and let his hands flop onto the table top.
‘So, do you think Linus killed Göran?’
Ivar gave her a fixed stare. ‘Put it this way, Alice, I haven’t seen or spoken to Linus since that summer. Does that answer your question?’
‘It’s interesting that Carina doesn’t think it was Linus, and that he’s actually staying at her apartment in Valletta.’
He nodded his head slowly. ‘She told me about the Malta arrangement. That’s up to her.’
While Zetterberg had been waiting for Ivar in the living room, she had noticed the family photos. Ivar with smiling kids; Ivar and Jenny grinning at a camera at some party; Ivar at some university event wearing an academic gown and shaking hands with another robed dignitary; and a stern figure in a fashionable sixties suit whom she took to be his father, the prosperous newspaper proprietor. Now she wondered how much he had influenced Ivar’s decision to cut Linus out of his life. There had been no pictures of any of his old friends.
‘Did you know that Göran managed to speak before he died?’
She could see Ivar’s mask of affability slip for a moment before quickly being repositioned. ‘No. No one said anything about that at the time. I assume he didn’t name his killer, or else you wouldn’t be here.’
‘He mumbled the words “burnt it”. Strange, don’t you think? Unless you can shed some light on it?’
‘Burnt it,’ he repeated quietly. ‘No. Sorry. It means absolutely nothing. For a moment I wondered if there might be some Arabic connection, but there’s none that I can think of.’
‘Never mind. Right, I know you’re in touch with Carina, but what about Larissa and Lars-Gunnar?’
‘Ah, Larissa. She was fun, but we went our separate ways.’
‘Carina didn’t think it was that straightforward. She used the word “dumped”.’
His face fashioned a hurt expression. ‘That’s a bit harsh. Our relationship was a student fling; it was never really serious on my part.’
‘From our records, we see that Larissa got a job at the university library here at about the time you came up with your family. Was that coincidence?’
‘Alice, is it that really relevant?’
‘Indulge me, please, Professor.’
‘It got slightly bizarre. I have to admit the split wasn’t entirely amicable. I’d met the girl who was to be my first wife then, and I was ready to move on. Horrible cliché, but true. I’m afraid Larissa couldn’t accept the situation, even when I got married. When we moved up here, it was quite a shock when I ran into her in the Carolina Rediviva. She wanted to carry on as though nothing had happened. Of course, I had a new wife and a new university position. Alice, I’m afraid I had to be brutally honest with Larissa.’ He spread his arms wide in a “what-can-a-man-do?” shrug. ‘I felt awful, but eventually she took the hint and left. I assume she’s in Skåne somewhere now.’
‘Malmö. The university library.’
‘Good for her.’
He may have meant well, but to Zetterberg it sounded bloody patronizing. Was the comment starting to break the spell Ivar had cast over her from the moment she’d entered the apartment? It certainly made her more business-like.
‘And Lars-Gunnar? Are you in touch with him?’
‘Lars-Gunnar!’ he exclaimed. ‘Poor fellow. He fell foul of drugs. Have no idea what he’s doing these days, or even if he’s alive for that matter. Isn’t that awful?’ An apologetic grimace followed. Zetterberg was beginning to realize that Ivar Hagblom could switch on an appropriate tone of voice and matching expression at will.
‘He’s alive and being uncooperative, according to my team who tried to speak to him this morning.’
‘Is he still hooked?’ Ivar asked with apposite concern.
‘No, he’s clean. He has a family now.’
‘I’m pleased. I know his habit got too much for Carina.’
‘Wasn’t that Göran’s fault? I believe he was supplying Lars-Gunnar?’
‘That was the unpleasant side of Göran’s character. I have to say I wasn’t really aware of that until that last summer. Or certainly the extent to which it was going on. I only really understood the problem when Carina had it out with Göran a couple of days before his death. Blazing row.’
Zetterberg was quick to respond. ‘You’re saying Carina fell out with Göran over supplying her boyfriend with drugs?’
‘I hope I haven’t talked out of turn.’
Zetterberg bit her bottom lip. Those cracks were definitely appearing.
CHAPTER 17
He could see the cityscape ahead. He realized that he must be approaching Malmö. Now Danny had a clearer idea of what he was going to do. He knew that it was Monday and that he had to act quickly. He reckoned that Leif’
s body would have been found by his daughter yesterday when she went to the farm to ride. The police would have been called. It would take a while before they matched his fingerprints to his record back in England, so he had time. However, she would also have noticed that the old farmer’s car had gone. A description of the vehicle was sure to be posted, so he had decided that he would have to ditch it.
He now had a better idea of where he was and the geography of this part of Sweden, though he still couldn’t work out where the working camp had been based. He’d taken the risk of talking to a stranger down by the harbour at Skillinge. He pretended to be a tourist, and the young man he spoke to had excellent English, unlike the older people that he’d done paths, paving and patios for over the previous months. The young man had said that the easiest way to get to Denmark was to cross over the Öresund Bridge. Danny had cursed himself for not driving there straight away, though at the time, he hadn’t known where he was and how to get there. Now it was too late. If a description of the car was out, he was bound to be stopped at the bridge. Besides, he didn’t know if he would have to show a passport to get into Denmark.
The two-lane road was now getting busier as the suburbs of the city appeared on either side. Though he was now more confident driving on the right, he became nervous when the traffic increased around him and the car behind was almost touching his bumper. What he was looking for was a big public car park. There, he figured it would be easier to lose the Volkswagen for a few days than on a lonely street where neighbours might be suspicious of an unfamiliar vehicle. The road he was on was very straight and seemed to be taking him towards the centre of the city. He didn’t want to get too close to the heart of Malmö as he wasn’t sure of the roads and might get horribly lost. There would also be CCTV cameras in the centre, and he wanted to make it as difficult as possible to be spotted.
He was trying to register any landmarks that might be useful. Coming up on his left was a twenty-four-hour McDonald’s. Further on were buildings that must have been factories and now had been turned into shops. The parking areas were too small and too open. Then there was a sign to Mobilia. Among the plethora of alien logos, he did recognize Burger King and Specsavers, which suggested Mobilia must be a shopping centre. He eased off to the left, and about three hundred metres up on the right, he saw what he was after – a multi-storey car park. He took a ticket from the machine at the entrance and then drove up the ramp to the second level. He was relieved to see that the bays were nearly full. He got out and locked the car. The first thing he was going to do was buy himself a massive burger with lashings of chips. No, that was the second thing he’d do; the first was get rid of the car keys. After all, they were of no use to Leif now.
Lars-Gunnar Lerstorp’s face dropped when he opened the door and saw Szabo and Erlandsson standing in front of him.
‘Now you’ve finished work, we really want to talk to you.’ Szabo was curt.
‘I’ve nothing to say.’ Lars-Gunnar tried to shut the door, but Szabo’s foot prevented him completing the manoeuvre.
‘No, you don’t! It’s either here in front of your family, or we can march you down to headquarters in Malmö.’
‘Who’s that?’ a female voice called from somewhere within the house.
For a moment, Lars-Gunnar looked panic stricken. ‘Can we do it in the garden?’ he hissed.
Szabo nodded.
‘Just some people,’ Lars-Gunnar shouted back. ‘We’ll just be in the garden.’ He seemed grateful that they weren’t going to burst into his home and cause embarrassment in front of his wife and kids. Zetterberg had been right.
They walked into the large garden at the back of the house. The lawn was neatly cut, and what flower beds there were seemed to be work in progress. Near an open French window, there was a large sandpit with an assortment of plastic toys strewn around. The high wall at the back topped with a wooden fence served as a screen from the main road. Some trees and bushes at street level made an attempt to block the noise of the traffic but only partly succeeded. The well-maintained Dutch bungalow was like most of the others on this pleasant but anonymous estate. It didn’t sit easily with what they knew about the old Lars-Gunnar. Maybe the man had reformed and wanted to hide away from his past. He couldn’t have chosen a better place than Veberöd.
‘Why did you do a runner this morning?’ Szabo asked aggressively.
‘You freaked me out,’ Lars-Gunnar said nervously. ‘Suddenly turning up like that.’
‘Is that all?’ Erlandsson’s tone was gentler, more probing.
Lars-Gunnar scratched his neck. ‘It’s all that Göran business. Brought back bad memories.’
‘A murder would.’
‘No, no, not that. It was a bad time in my life. I was starting to lose control.’
‘The drugs?’
‘I can’t deny it. They were getting in the way of my friends... my girlfriend.’
‘Carina Lindvall?’
He scratched distractedly again. ‘Yeah. She tried to help me, but I didn’t want to be helped. I didn’t like myself a lot in those days.’
Szabo wasn’t having any of this self-pity. ‘We heard that Göran was supplying you.’
‘Who told you that?’ His surprise was evident. Perhaps because of his height, Lars-Gunnar stooped, and he now planted his hands firmly in his trouser pockets as though he didn’t know what to do with them. The stance made him appear disconcertingly unbalanced, as though he might tip over any second.
‘I know it didn’t come out at the time, but your old friends are being more forthcoming than they were twenty years ago.’
Lars-Gunnar grimaced. ‘Yes.’ The admission was reluctant. ‘He was. The daft thing is that he didn’t do drugs himself. The only one of our group who didn’t. But he used it to pay his way through university. He was good at exploiting other people’s weaknesses.’
‘So on the night of the murder, you were allegedly in the garden drinking and smoking on your own.’ Szabo managed to inject enough incredulity into his voice to startle Lars-Gunnar.
‘I was. Carina said so to the police. She saw me flaked out on a recliner. She was working inside.’
‘Can you remember?’
Lars-Gunnar gave Szabo an anxious glance. ‘I think so. I’d had quite a lot to drink at the barbecue we’d had on the beach. When we got back, I had a couple of spliffs with Carina and Ivar, I think. Then I can’t remember much more. God knows what I took after that. I know that there was some commotion later on, and then there were police about. All a bit of a haze.’
‘That’s convenient.’ Szabo still sounded unconvinced.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You were in such a state, you could have wandered down to the chapel and killed Göran yourself.’
‘Of course I didn’t!’ Lars-Gunnar protested. ‘Why would I?’
‘Göran was your supplier. Maybe he wouldn’t give you any more.’
‘Why wouldn’t he?’
‘Because your loving girlfriend had an argument with him a couple of days before about him supplying you. She was trying to protect you.’
Lars-Gunnar was now stupefied. ‘I didn’t know she— ’
‘Which also puts her in the frame,’ Erlandsson suggested.
‘Come on, that’s a ridiculous suggestion. Carina could get angry, but she wouldn’t kill anyone.’
‘If she loved you enough...’ Erlandsson left the suggestion hanging.
Lars-Gunnar twisted away from them and stared towards the high wall at the end of the garden. A couple of invisible cars passed along the main road above. Erlandsson glimpsed a worried-looking woman at one of the windows of the house. She was holding a youngster in her arms. When she saw Erlandsson looking, she quickly drew back.
‘So, both you and Carina Lindvall have potential motives.’ Szabo felt they were really getting somewhere. Lars-Gunnar turned back to face them, his head shaking.
‘It was nothing like that,’ he objected. ‘OK, we weren’t t
hat keen on Göran. He was Ivar’s friend. And, of course, he and Linus were an item. I liked Linus.’ It was almost thrown in as an afterthought.
‘As you were too out of it to tell us much about the day of the murder, you can tell us about Göran and his relationships with everyone.’
Lars-Gunnar flicked away a small clump of stray grass with his foot. ‘Göran was very driven. Everything he did was calculated. Carina reckoned he got friendly with Ivar because he thought Ivar would be useful. And then he started up with Linus to be part of Ivar’s group. I don’t know if it was true. He wasn’t that easy to like.’
‘Except when he kept your habit going.’ Szabo couldn’t help the cynicism. Lars-Gunnar ignored it.
‘I think the girls thought he was a bit creepy. He didn’t strike me like that, but maybe it’s because I’m a man. At first he was ingratiating, until he became more confident. Then his competitive streak came out. Especially with Ivar.’
‘In what way?’ Erlandsson asked.
‘Just the odd thing. Mucking about playing football on the beach. That sort of thing. Then it was more like contradicting Ivar on subjects that they were studying. Ivar was always spouting on about Arabic countries and that sort of stuff, and then Göran would jump in and disagree. He would try and shoot down Ivar’s ideas. Not exactly putting him down, but definite points scoring. I think their whole PhD thing was turning into a competition to see who would come up with the most lauded research. They were interested in the same things so, at some stage, they would have been going for the same jobs after university. The whole thing gave the group a bad vibe.’
‘So it wasn’t all sweetness and light?’ Szabo mocked.
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