‘I’m beginning to wonder.’
‘And your visit to Illstorp hasn’t helped as it’s only proved that the woman couldn’t have been Kristina Ekman.’ This time, she did drop the remains of her ice cream. ‘Sod it!’
They started to wander back towards the polishus.
‘How are things at home?’ Anita had wanted to ask for a while without being able to find the right opportunity. She’d sensed that not all was well with Saint Rolf.
‘Not good. Rolf’s such a selfish bastard.’ Anita almost found herself cheering. Klara was seeing the light at last. ‘He has me running around like a demented flea. Do this, do that. Where’s my breakfast? Where’s my dinner? And he doesn’t lift a finger. I’ve got a bloody job, too!’ Her frustration was almost tangible.
They crossed the road. ‘And I’ve got a commute. I miss Malmö. Ystad is where he comes from. It’s where his ghastly family lives. And his awful friends. Not that I often meet them. He buggers off to see them at his local bar once he’s scoffed down his meal.’
‘Why don’t you move back here? Cut out the travel. Would make your life easier.’
‘I’d never get Rolf to budge.’
‘You don’t have to bring him.’
Wallen stopped stock-still on the pavement. She held up a hand to shield the sun from her eyes.
‘Anita, do you fancy a drink after work? We haven’t done that for ages.’ Anita wanted to go and see Lasse and family. Wallen noticed the hesitation. ‘Don’t worry if you’re busy.’
‘It’s just I was going to see Leyla.’ Wallen couldn’t disguise her disappointment. ‘Tell you what, can we make it a bit later? I’ll see them first then meet you for a drink.’
‘That would be brilliant!’ Klara said gratefully. ‘Oh, but what about Kevin?’
Anita waved a hand. ‘Don’t worry about Kevin. He can look after himself tonight. But what about Rolf?’
‘He can go and...’ The rest was drowned out by the sound of a passing bus.
Anita and Klara Wallen walked tipsily past the Malmö Theatre. It was after eleven and the lights from the building’s large windows flooded the concourse. The ‘drink’ had turned into a bit of a session as Klara Wallen had poured her heart out. Anita was glad that she’d managed to get to Lasse’s before meeting Wallen. All seemed fine in Rosengård. Lasse had wondered why she’d asked if he’d seen any black cars with tinted windows in the street. He hadn’t, and when he pressed her, she said it was to do with an ongoing investigation; said she was just curious. Anita was also grateful that after polishing off a bottle of expensive red wine at a bar, she and Klara had sensibly had a pizza to line their stomachs. Less sensibly, they’d gone through another bottle of wine. Then they’d popped into The Pickwick for a nightcap. Anita had had a beer, which wasn’t necessarily a good idea – she could never remember the adage about grape before grain or the other way round. Whatever, she was probably going to suffer tomorrow. The upshot was that Anita had insisted that Wallen stay the night at Roskildevägen – and stuff Rolf. Wallen had happily agreed; the booze having given her the courage – and the nerve to answer a call from Rolf demanding to know where she was and why there hadn’t been food on the table when he got home. Anita hoped that Wallen wouldn’t regret telling him where he could shove his evening meal. She might end up staying more than one night.
‘You’ve got it made, Anita,’ Wallen slurred into Anita’s ear.
‘How?’
‘You and your man. He’s not around all the time. You see him when you want to and do what you want when he’s not here... if you see what I mean.’
‘I like that.’
‘He’s not demanding.’
‘He’s irritating.’
‘But only irritating for short periods. You can keep things fresh.’
Now they’d reached Carl Gustafs väg and were waiting for the pedestrian lights to change, even though there was no traffic on the road.
‘I suppose we can.’ Anita was quite pleased that someone else was envious of her long-distance relationship.
‘Is the sex good?’
Anita sniggered. ‘Yeah. It is. And it’s funny with him.’
The green man appeared and the accompanying bleeping alerted them, and they crossed over unsteadily.
‘What do you mean “funny”? Weird?’
‘No, ha ha funny. Makes me laugh even when we’re at it sometimes. That’s because he keeps talking and I have to think of imaginative ways of shutting him up.’
Wallen snorted. ‘God, Rolf just humps, grunts and then falls asleep. Snores like a pig.’
‘Then Kevin does have something in common with Rolf,’ Anita snickered.
‘But the thing is with you,’ Wallen said, wagging a finger at her, ‘it’s not every bloody night, because your man’s not there every bloody night. Maybe I’m just fed up with Rolf.’
‘Do you love him?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Do you like him?’
‘Aren’t they the same?’
‘You can love someone; it doesn’t mean you like them.’
That led to silence as they wobbled down Roskildevägen, both women reflecting on their lots in life. It was Wallen who noticed it first.
‘Look!’ she shouted.
Some distance away, on the park side of the road, there was a car engulfed in flames. Anita sobered up immediately when she realized that it was her Skoda. She found herself running towards it and was oblivious to Wallen’s screamed warning. She was virtually on the opposite side of the street when there was an instantaneous whoosh of flame and a thunderous crack which split the night. Anita felt her feet fly from under her and as she hit the pavement, her world went black.
CHAPTER 35
Kevin and Wallen were pictures of concern. Anita had come round after a few minutes and soon after that the paramedics were on the scene. They’d tried to persuade her to let them take her to the hospital, but after being checked over and patched up in the ambulance, all she wanted to do was to go back to her own apartment. With some reluctance, they let her have her way. She was told that if she felt sick, she should contact them immediately; she could have concussion – she promised she would. She had a couple of nasty facial cuts, a thumping headache and she felt like she was under water. Klara Wallen’s warning had been all too prescient as she’d realized that the car might blow when the petrol tank caught fire. Fortunately, Anita had been far enough away from the explosion for it to cause any serious damage. She was now sitting in her living room, the window blind pulled up to show what remained of her car. Very little. The fire brigade had doused the flames and the tangle of metal that had once been her Skoda now sat forlornly between the vehicles on either side, which had both had their windows blown out. The police, when they arrived, could only shrug. This was the seventieth car to be torched in the last few months in Malmö; Anita knew that her colleagues had been battling this plague without much success. One theory doing the rounds of the polishus was that criminals were lashing out because of recent crackdowns on organized crime and were sending out young vandals to do as much damage as possible. It tied up a lot of police man hours. The officer whom she spoke to after the incident reassured her that the culprits weren’t targeting individuals as such and the arson attacks were random. It didn’t make Anita feel any better. And, rubbing salt into the wound, one of the firemen had told her that it was unusual for petrol tanks to blow up and only possible if the tank was pretty much empty. Of course, she’d forgotten to fill up again. She was furious that she’d be without a car. Kevin told her not to worry – the priority was to get herself right.
It was well after one when the street was quiet once again: the police, the emergency services and the inquisitive neighbours were gone. Kevin managed to persuade Anita to come to bed. Klara Wallen had disappeared into Lasse’s old room some time before, the noise of the explosion not helping her fuzzy head. Anita’s brain was still addled; her headache had subsided after taking medica
tion, but her cuts were stinging and her hearing was still muted. Her only consolation was that at least she wouldn’t be kept awake by Kevin’s snoring. She rolled over and snuggled up to him. She was glad he was around tonight. The incident had been dramatic and upsetting, and there was a sense of injustice about it being her car, but no life had been lost and she would mend. And her drunken chat with Klara Wallen was making her realize that maybe she had struck lucky with Kevin. Maybe they had found the perfect way to get along.
It was on the Wednesday morning that Anita was back at work. She was almost her old self again, though her hearing was still bothering her. The day before, delayed shock had kicked in and Kevin had ordered her to stay at home. But now she was anxious to get back into the fray. Little had happened on the Sami Litmanen case. Zetterberg was still convinced that Claes Svärdendahl was still well in the frame; it was just a question of time. Zetterberg’s reaction to Anita’s facial injuries was also predictable: ‘Been involved in another cat fight? Bound to be over a man.’
But more bad news awaited her when she got back to her office.
‘I’ve just had forensics on about your car.’ The officer who’d been called to her apartment on the night of the explosion was on the phone. ‘And I don’t think you’re going to like what they found. It was targeted.’
‘How could they know?’
‘Someone placed a small device under the bonnet.’ Anita’s heart missed a beat. ‘It was meant to go off when you started the car up. Fortunately for you, they wired it up wrongly and it started a fire that led to the explosion.’ He finished the call by saying that there would be a thorough investigation and he would keep her in the loop. When she put the phone down, she felt sick. She could have been in the car. Kevin could have been in the car, as he used it quite a lot when she was at work. Who would have done that? Then anger began to push out the fear as she thought through who might be behind it. It was obvious. Her conversation with Absame in Värnhemstorget on Monday must have got back to Dragan Mitrović. As far as he was concerned, she had ignored his warning. And now he was carrying out his threat. This had to stop.
Anita strode down the corridor towards Erik Moberg’s office. Brodd and Erlandsson were just coming out. Erlandsson pulled a face.
‘I wouldn’t go in there. She’s not a happy woman.’
‘What’s up now?’
‘We found someone who puts Svärdendahl at the party just before ten o’clock,’ said Brodd, ‘which makes it impossible for him to be at Västra Hamnen at the same time. She wasn’t one of the guests, but a professional dominatrix who had been hired by the party planner to cater for specific tastes. As she was charging by the quarter hour, she kept an eye on the clock. Kinky Claes had fifteen minutes of pain at about the same time someone was lamping Litmanen.’
‘So I wouldn’t go in there the mood she’s in,’ cautioned Erlandsson.
‘I don’t care what mood she’s in...’ and she barged straight into Moberg’s office.
Zetterberg’s mood wasn’t improved by the sight of Anita.
‘What do you want?’ She didn’t even pretend to be civil.
‘I’ve just found out that someone had booby-trapped my car. That person was trying to shut me up. And I know who. Dragan Mitrović.’
‘And why would he do that?’
‘Because I’ve been nosing around Absame and he doesn’t like it. Either because Absame killed Litmanen or Mitrović had him murdered himself.’
‘I told you to leave them well alone. Why don’t you listen?’
‘Oh, I’ve been wondering why you keep warning me off them despite Absame being an obvious suspect. I had a visit from Mitrović the other day. Broke into my apartment and threatened to do nasty things to me and my family.’
‘It’s your own fault.’
‘I reckon he got to you first. You know as well as I do that those witness statements Mitrović gave me about Absame being at the club are junk. What did he threaten you with? What’s your weakness? That’s why you kept trying to keep us off their backs.’
Zetterberg sat behind Moberg’s desk and shook her head slowly.
‘You’re a stupid bitch, Anita. What do you think I am?’
‘I know exactly what you are.’ Anita’s blood was up now. She wasn’t going to hold back. ‘You’re easily corruptible and you’ve got no scruples. You’ve proved that.’
‘You haven’t the first idea. I know that Absame is innocent.’
‘Just because Mitrović told you he was.’
‘He’s got an alibi.’
‘And who’s given him that?’
‘One of us. A cop.’
What the hell was she talking about?
Zetterberg was enjoying putting Anita on the back foot. ‘One of the drugs boys is undercover in Dragan Mitrović’s organization. He was with Absame when the murder was committed. They were in Trelleborg picking up a shipment of drugs at the time. That’s why he avoided giving you his alibi.’
‘What about Mitrović?’
‘He was there, too. He didn’t order any hit on Sami Litmanen.’
Anita was stunned. ‘Why didn’t the Drugs Squad arrest them then?’ was the nearest she could get to a protest.
‘They’re waiting for a really big shipment to come in. You’ve been interfering in an important operation. You’ve been jeopardizing the whole thing sticking your big nose in.’
‘But... but why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It was on a need-to-know basis and I didn’t think you needed to know. My order should have been good enough.’
Anita felt foolish. And her humiliation was doubly exacerbated by her being proved wrong by Alice Zetterberg.
‘As you’re here, we’d better think about where we take this case next. Claes—’
‘I heard.’
‘Well, he’s off the hook. So is Folke Allinger, and Absame was never on it, so your original list of suspects has proved to be totally useless.’
‘They weren’t the only leads,’ said Anita, rallying. ‘I did point out that there might be a tie in with whatever story Litmanen was working on. All the missing files, notes on the board. From what I remember, you dismissed that theory.’
Zetterberg wasn’t going to acknowledge the point.
‘You said his editor indicated that whatever he was working on had got personal.’
‘Yes.’
‘And what has he in the way of family?’
‘As far as we’ve been able to establish, there’s only an elderly mother in Helsinki.’
Zetterberg stood up abruptly. For a startled moment, Anita thought she was going to hit her.
‘Right, get yourself up to Helsinki and find out something sodding worthwhile.’
CHAPTER 36
The next day, Anita was still more furious than frightened. She realized that Dragan Mitrović wasn’t a man to make idle threats. Her chance sighting of Absame at the bus station had prompted his action. He didn’t have to worry now because she didn’t want to see Absame or any of Mitrović’s Serbs again. If she left well alone, her family would be safe. She hadn’t told Kevin about the car bomb. Partly because she didn’t want to worry him, and partly to ensure he didn’t do anything rash like seek out Mitrović and confront him. She was also livid that all this could have been avoided if Alice Zetterberg had told her as soon as she knew that Absame was innocent. It was Zetterberg playing with her. She’d first come across that Machiavellian side of her character at the Police Academy. Then it hadn’t been so serious. This time it could have ended tragically. What also irked her was the loss of her beloved Skoda; it was the first car she’d owned that hadn’t broken down every five minutes.
With the investigation going nowhere fast, matters hadn’t been helped by the press conference Alice Zetterberg had held yesterday afternoon. Having previously announced that Mikael Nilsson was actually Sami Litmanen, she’d now revealed to the world that Litmanen was none other than The Oligarch. Hakim had brought in the morning newspa
pers, and their murder victim was on the front page of every one. Understandably, many were gloating over a rival’s demise. A number were already speculating on some of the suspects that the police had already identified and now dismissed. This frenzy would continue in the coming days. Anita noticed that Zetterberg had broken the news before Commissioner Dahlbeck’s return from holiday. She’d justified the announcement by saying that they were at a dead end and the investigation needed fresh impetus. She had a point, though the outcome would only put extra pressure on the team, despite Zetterberg’s public assurance that they were following up a number of ‘promising leads’. If nothing else, Zetterberg had got her name in all the papers and had featured on all the national and local television stations.
Anita spent her time organizing her trip to Helsinki. Her flight was confirmed for the next day and though she hadn’t been able to get hold of Sami Litmanen’s mother yet, she had managed to track down a journalistic colleague of his from his time in Finland. She arranged a morning meeting. She hoped it might give her some useful background information on Litmanen before he morphed into The Oligarch. She chided herself that it was the sort of checking she should have done initially instead of rushing straight off after the obvious, very public, suspects.
When the office phone rang, she hoped it might be Eila Litmanen. It turned out to be an irate Erin Ljung, the editor of Sanningen.
‘I thought we had a deal!’
‘We did,’ Anita said defensively.
‘So how come every damn paper has the story? Our owners are going crackers. Of all Sami’s exposés, this should have been the biggest!’ Anita’s heart bled for the woman! She wasn’t so much upset about Litmanen’s death, but the missed opportunity to be the first with the news of it.
‘I didn’t know that the story was going to be broken like that. Otherwise I’d have alerted you,’ she lied.
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