Closed Circles (Sandhamn Murders Book 2)

by Sten, Viveca

  “What happened then?”

  “He told me not to worry about it. He said lots of people use cocaine. It wasn’t any worse than alcohol.”

  “You never thought about leaving him?”

  “I loved him. I trusted him when he said he had it under control.”

  “How did it affect him?”

  “Not badly, really. He got louder and his eyes were shinier. He’d get wound up. Never aggressive, just more intense.” She smiled a sad smile. “That was Oscar, always full of life.”

  Then she glanced at her watch, a discreet gold band on her wrist.

  “I have a customer coming in ten minutes. Do you think we’ll be finished soon? I’ll have to pull myself together. I can’t look like this when he arrives.”

  “Just one last question. Do you know if Oscar had any enemies?”

  She shook her head.

  “None that I know of. But he could be really condescending at times to people he didn’t like, especially to other lawyers.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’d rant on and on about their incompetence. Called them idiots. Sometimes he’d say that someone never should have been admitted to the Swedish Bar Association. Or that he should be kicked out.”

  “Did he say things like that in public?”

  “He could be sharp when he showed that side of himself.”

  Sharp enough to attract a mortal enemy? Thomas thought. Had Oscar Juliander been so rude that someone decided to kill him?

  “Do you know of any contact with the Russian mafia?”

  Diana Söder looked at him in surprise.

  “Why would you ask a question like that?”

  “He may have received some threatening letters from them.”

  “I’ve never heard about anything like that. But he probably wouldn’t have told me.”

  Thomas stood up.

  “I think we’re finished now. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Diana Söder tried to smile as she said good-bye, but her expression looked more like a grimace. As Thomas closed the door behind him, she disappeared into a room at the back of the gallery. He thought he heard a muffled sob as he stepped outside.

  CHAPTER 22

  This must be the first time we awarded the Round Gotland prize with flags flying at half-mast, Hans Rosensjöö thought.

  The stage had been erected between the harbor office and the large dock. Hans stood next to Ingmar von Hahne, waiting for the ceremony to begin.

  A large table with a blue velvet tablecloth bearing the club’s emblem held the prizes. Rows of silver trophies stood beside magnums of champagne and plaques for the second- and third-place winners. An enormous flower arrangement topped off the display.

  Hans Rosensjöö, as chairman, would award the prizes. The race coordinator and Ingmar’s sweet daughter Emma would help him. It was always pleasant to have a female participate, especially since men dominated the competition by 90 percent.

  But the atmosphere was not festive, given the circumstances. The Yacht Club’s restaurant was usually fully booked, but they’d received a stream of cancellations. This displeased the maître d’. They’d had to rearrange the tables to make the restaurant look less empty.

  Hans Rosensjöö wished he could have stayed away, too. But since they’d decided that the race would continue, they had to go through the formalities: the awards ceremony, the exclusive dinner, the whole bit. They owed that much to the other participants who’d completed the race.

  Hans glanced at his watch. Ten more minutes until the official gunshot went off, indicating the beginning of the awards ceremony.

  Britta Rosensjöö was chatting with Isabelle von Hahne and a few others, and, as usual, Isabelle dominated the conversation. Britta sipped her champagne. Where does Isabelle get all her energy? How does she keep up with all these committees and volunteer organizations? The woman needs a real job.

  But that wouldn’t have been acceptable in her upper-class family, Britta realized. Though she and Hans moved in high circles, Isabelle’s were even higher. In the fifties, her father had been one of the most important industrial giants in Sweden. Her family would never have allowed a beautiful daughter an education or a career. Instead Isabelle had married a nobleman to acquire even higher social status and a title.

  Britta almost felt sorry for Isabelle. She’d met her father several times before his death and remembered him as stiff and tradition bound. He’d ruled his family with an iron fist.

  Britta glanced at her husband over by the awards table. He looked tired and worn out. These past days had been difficult, and she was concerned. He would be sixty soon. No longer a young man. It was time to put his health before his duties. She’d never told him how glad she was that he was leaving the board. She was counting the days.

  To tell the truth, she never liked Oscar that much. He was too full of himself. He’d already started to act like the RSYC chairman that summer, though Hans had not yet stepped down.

  Britta found Oscar’s behavior presumptuous, although she didn’t discuss this with her husband.

  She had always preferred Sylvia, a pleasant person who came from a better family than Oscar. But Sylvia often stayed behind in their summerhouse on Ingarö. She never seemed comfortable at these kinds of events, where Oscar’s ringing laughter and endless sailing stories dominated every conversation. And Oscar probably didn’t mind Sylvia staying home and letting him take center stage.

  “Right, Britta?”

  Britta shrugged vaguely at Isabelle’s question. She’d been lost in her own thoughts.

  “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” she said. “I didn’t hear you. I’m so scatterbrained this week. The other day I lost my camera, and this morning I lost my sunglasses.”

  Isabelle smiled at Britta.

  “I was just saying I hope the awards ceremony doesn’t go on too long. It would be nice to get this evening over with as quickly as possible.”

  Britta nodded in agreement. She took another sip of champagne and discovered her drink had grown warm. But the thought that Hans would soon be done with all of this cheered her up. She smiled as she imagined never having to attend another function like this again.

  THURSDAY, THE FIRST WEEK

  CHAPTER 23

  “Take a look at this,” Kalle said. He pulled some sheets of paper from the fax machine.

  It was almost four in the afternoon, and they were the last people left on the floor. So many had left on vacation or were off working on the Juliander case.

  As Erik looked over the pages, he recognized the logo of the National Forensic Laboratory in the top corner.

  “So, Linköping sent their autopsy analysis.”

  “Yep,” Kalle said.

  Erik sat in a chair near Kalle’s desk and quickly read the three-page report.

  “I see,” he said. He scratched his head. His dark hair was combed back with a touch of gel, and his white short-sleeved shirt rode up in the back, revealing a patch of suntanned skin above the waist of his jeans.

  “Not much doubt about it.” He held out page two.

  “Not much.”

  “Traces of cocaine in Juliander’s blood.”

  “So Winbergh’s suspicions were correct.”

  “But does it mean anything?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?”

  “That’s such wonderful news, Nora! Just think how great it will be!”

  Monica Linde sounded so excited that Nora had to hold the phone away from her ear for a moment.

  “Henrik told me! Now you can buy that big house in Saltsjöbaden. All I can say is congratulations. Something good came out of that woman’s despicable behavior. Every cloud has a silver lining!”

  Nora’s snobby and tactless mother-in-law knew exactly how to irritate her daughter-in-law.

  Nora had never been fond of Henrik’s mother; Monica tended to boast about all the important friends she’d made during her
long stint as a diplomat’s wife, and name-dropping was not one of Nora’s favorite pastimes.

  Nora took a deep breath and managed to control herself.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “What did Henrik tell you?”

  “That you’re selling the Brand house, of course! And you’ve gotten a fantastic offer!”

  “That’s what he told you?”

  Monica ignored Nora’s chilly tone.

  “That town house you have—it always felt so dull. So boxed in. And your neighbors have neither class nor style.”

  Monica paused to catch her breath.

  “Henrik has always enjoyed spacious living quarters, ever since he was a child. I could never understand how he deals with that little house of yours. It’s absolutely wonderful that you can buy something bigger now.”

  “We like where we live just fine,” Nora said.

  She wanted to end the call, but she’d hear about it for years if she hung up on her mother-in-law. She considered pretending her battery was dying.

  “I’m so upset about Oscar’s death,” Monica continued. “So upset! What’s this world coming to? Have you seen the evening papers?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “How can such a handsome man be killed like that? It’s incomprehensible. And the police aren’t doing a thing about it, of course. No matter how much tax money they spend. They’re so incompetent.”

  Her son Simon came running through the doorway, and Nora seized her chance to escape.

  “Simon wants to say hi to you,” she said. She pushed the phone into her son’s hand without saying good-bye.

  After he’d hung up, Nora gave her son a quick peck on the forehead to thank him for being patient with his grandmother. She knew she needed to talk to someone besides Henrik about selling the Brand house, and she needed someone who would understand. Thomas. He knew the whole story of the house and Aunt Signe.

  Nora wrote a text message:

  Call me when you have a chance to talk.

  He responded right away:

  On Sandhamn already. Something happen?

  Nora smiled. Quick and efficient. Typical Thomas.

  How about a beer at the Divers Bar at six?

  She clicked “Send.”

  The reply was immediate.

  OK -T.

  CHAPTER 24

  “So, how are things going?” Nora asked.

  Thomas set down his beer. He’d drunk half of it in one fell swoop, and now he let out a discreet burp.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “You know I’m curious! All of Sandhamn is wondering who killed Oscar Juliander! It’s been in all the papers the last few days!”

  “You think I’m going to spill the beans about an investigation just because you’re curious?” Thomas smiled halfheartedly. He was tired after interviewing witnesses all day with Margit.

  Nora looked better rested than she had for a while. Thomas noticed she wasn’t as thin as she’d been the past winter. A few freckles were sprinkled across her perky nose, and the dark rings under her eyes had mostly vanished. Her slightly longer hairstyle gave her a softer look.

  “Come on,” Nora said. “You don’t have to say anything. But Juliander was so well known; why wouldn’t I want to ask about it?”

  “Did you know him?” Thomas snacked on some peanuts the waitress set before them. He’d ordered a club sandwich that had not yet arrived. Nora sipped her beer. She’d invited Thomas to eat dinner with her family, but he’d declined. He had to catch the last ferry to Stavsnäs at seven thirty.

  “I’ve met him a few times. He was a real bigwig in RSYC. Henrik’s parents knew him.”

  “Did you ever work with him?”

  “No. But he was well established in the elite Stockholm judicial circles,” she said. “Kalling is a well-known old firm, and Oscar Juliander was one of Sweden’s leading bankruptcy lawyers.”

  “Explain to me what a bankruptcy lawyer really does,” Thomas said.

  The waitress brought his order. He grabbed the ketchup and poured a healthy portion onto his plate.

  “A bankruptcy lawyer,” Nora said as she swiveled her glass between her palms. “He’s the person who takes over the operation when a company declares bankruptcy.”

  “I understand that. But what does he do?”

  “After a bankruptcy, the board or the management has no more access to the operation. They have lost the right to dispose of the assets.”

  Thomas looked at Nora, and she saw the fatigue in his eyes. Sometimes lawyers used jargon without realizing it was gibberish to outsiders.

  “Can you speak in normal Swedish, please? What did you just say?”

  Nora smiled. “The courts kick out the president, and the board puts a lawyer in his place. This lawyer’s job is to close down the company and settle assets and liabilities.”

  “How does he manage that?”

  “It varies. Sometimes the assets are sold one by one. Sometimes the whole company is sold. Sometimes the former owners buy back the company from the bankruptcy court and start over.”

  “Is that allowed?”

  “Why not? The goal is to pay back the creditors as much as possible. If you can get a better price by selling to the former owners, so be it. It’s not forbidden, though it may be considered immoral.”

  Thomas looked at her. This sounded like something that should be declared illegal. But then, he wasn’t a trained lawyer.

  “So Oscar Juliander became a kind of temporary company executive for a number of businesses.”

  “Yes, that’s what he did, more or less.”

  “Have you ever heard anything unfavorable about him? Something out of line with his public image?”

  Nora leaned back in her chair. She thought about all the gossip in Stockholm. He’d definitely been a womanizer. At the Swedish Bar Association parties, he’d always flirt with the young female lawyers. But what else had she heard about Oscar Juliander?

  She shook her head.

  “Actually, he had a pretty good reputation. And lots of money, I think.”

  “You should have seen their house in Saltsjöbaden. Three cars in the driveway.”

  “That Swan boat, the Emerald Gin, must have cost a small fortune,” Nora continued. “And their place on Ingarö is very nice and not so far from my dear parents-in-law’s place.”

  She winked at Thomas. He was well acquainted with Harald and Monica Linde and knew exactly what she meant.

  “But I assume lawyers at a firm like Kalling already earn good salaries?” Thomas asked. He stabbed his fork into his French fries. “We met their managing partner, or whatever he’s called. He spoke of making millions. That should go pretty far.”

  “Maybe so,” Nora said. “But Juliander must have logged some serious hours to earn so much. Do you know the saying about competitive racing?”

  Thomas shook his head. “No. What?”

  “Competing in sailing is like standing in the shower and ripping up thousand-krona bills.”

  Thomas grinned.

  “I heard an air force general came up with that line in the seventies,” Nora explained. “Competitive sailing is incredibly expensive. I know how much money Henrik and his crew put into their six-foot sailing boat, and they only race in Sweden.”

  “What kind of money are we talking about?”

  “I imagine a Swan like that would cost ten to twelve million kronor. Not to mention the sails, fees, and transportation if you’re competing abroad. Just the Round Gotland Race probably cost a hundred thousand kronor.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “And he probably had to hire a few professionals for his crew. Then you have food, matching uniforms embroidered with the name of the boat, the cost of the awards dinner—the skipper pays for everything. That’s the tradition.”

  She took a sip of beer and looked out over the harbor.

  The orange pilot boat came into the toll dock. Her son Simon had just learned to read and thought
it was odd that the word “PILOT” was painted in big letters on the hull. He insisted that a pilot flew an airplane and was not someone who captained a boat. It didn’t help when Nora tried to explain that the word pilot was English. He still thought it was ridiculous.

  “So, how’s it going with the investigation?” she asked.

  Thomas shrugged.

  “We haven’t brought the case into home port, so to speak.” He couldn’t help grinning. “We still have too many loose threads and not a single suspect.”

  “Did you find anything unusual about his legal work?” Nora asked. “Anything sticking out? Do you know the case he was working on recently?”

  “Take a look for yourself. You’re a lawyer.”

  Thomas reached for his briefcase and took out a sheaf of papers clipped together. He handed them to Nora. She began to flip through them.

  “What about this one?” she asked. She offered him the paper.

  “Keep it. If you find anything interesting, give us a call.” He held up his palm defensively. “The answer to your unasked question is yes, we have begun looking into it all, but we don’t have enough personnel. We need more help from the Financial Crimes unit, but it’s the middle of July. You know how things are when it’s vacation time in Sweden.”

  He fell silent and hesitated a moment.

  “Anything special we should be on the lookout for?” he asked.

  Nora picked up the document and studied it more thoroughly.

  “Run all the board members against the Swedish Company Registration Office to see if any have been banned from carrying out business under the trading prohibition act, if you haven’t already done so. Do the same with all the CEOs and executives.”

  “Good idea,” Thomas said. “Erik will talk to them. He has a contact there.”

  Nora looked at her watch.

  “Is that it on Juliander?” she asked. “I have to head home soon, and I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

  She played with the tiny saltshaker on the table. The old feeling of being disloyal to Henrik came back. She decided to ignore it. She really needed to talk this thing through with someone.