‘So you can’t think what his story was going to be about?’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you.’ It sounded like a dismissal.
Anita didn’t move. ‘Did Sami Litmanen contact you directly?’
‘Course not.’ The denial came out too rapidly. He recovered: ‘Why on earth would he?’
‘Were you aware that Sami Litmanen had a personal connection to this family – to you?’
‘That seems highly unlikely.’
‘Eila Riihiahti.’ Anders Offesson stiffened. ‘The Finnish girl your family took in during the war.’
Still clutching his handkerchief, he waved his hand airily. ‘Vaguely.’
‘She was Litmanen’s mother.’
‘How extraordinary!’
‘Isn’t it? I spoke to her last week. She remembers you very well. An eight-year-old boy who bullied her; made her life a misery.’
‘How ungrateful. We took her in and gave her the kind of life she couldn’t possibly have had anywhere else. She came from some dreadful Helsinki slum and we gave her this,’ he said, waving his hand towards the garden.
‘You did. She particularly remembers the two oak trees over there. One very clearly. The one your sister Isabell was in. And she also remembers the reason for her fall.’
‘You will leave, now!’ Offesson barked.
‘Where were you on the night of Sunday, the fourteenth of May at around ten o’clock?’
‘This is outrageous! Get out of my house!’
Anita stood up. ‘This isn’t the last you’ll hear from me.’
‘Oh, yes it is! Your career is over; I’ll see to that!’
CHAPTER 43
Anita made her way back through the house.
Felicity Offesson met her in the hall.
‘How did you get on with the old man?’
‘I’m glad he’s not my father-in-law,’ Anita replied in English.
A sardonic grin flickered over Felicity’s face. ‘A lot of people have said that since I came here. Anders isn’t a great fan of us Yanks. And it doesn’t help that he liked Christer’s first wife. I was never going to be an adequate replacement, especially as I was the reason for the messy divorce.’
They made their way to the front door.
‘Are you involved in the business?’
‘I wanted to be, but Anders put a block on it.’
‘So you don’t know how it’s going?’
‘I know when things aren’t going well. Christer gets moody.’
‘Is he moody right now?’
Felicity furrowed her immaculately plucked eyebrows.
‘Is that why you’re here?’
Anita pushed open the front door. It took an effort to move the solid oak. Felicity followed her out to the top of the steps.
‘In a way.’
‘That explains a lot. He hasn’t been himself the last two or three weeks. Introspective. I could tell he was worried. Wouldn’t say what.’
When Anita reached the bottom of the steps, she called back ‘You don’t happen to know what Anders was doing on the evening of May the fourteenth by any chance? It was a Sunday evening.’
Felicity took out a mobile phone from her trouser pocket and her thumbs worked the keys.
‘There was a concert that night. In Lund. Brahms and Mahler, and a bit of Gershwin thrown in. That was for my benefit.’
‘Your benefit?’
‘Offesson’s was sponsoring the event.’
‘And was Anders there?’
‘No. Bit embarrassing. Pleaded illness at the last minute. So Christer and I went without him.’
After Anita’s visit to Anders Offesson, she went straight home. She needed time to think and to bounce a few ideas off Kevin; he was a receptive sounding board. When she arrived at the apartment, she saw him coming out of the park wheeling a buggy. Jazmin had clearly roped him in for childcare duty. Leyla gave a squeal of delight when she saw her grandmother. When they had crossed the road, Anita hoisted Leyla out of the buggy and hugged her; descending into a babble of baby language. Leyla giggled and did her usual trick of trying to grab Anita’s glasses.
‘Any luck?’ Kevin enquired as he folded the chair up.
‘I’ll tell you about it after I’ve had a bit of a play with this gorgeous young lady.’
Jazmin turned up at six, and they had a bite to eat before she and a tired and fractious Leyla headed for home. Anita was happy to avoid the inevitable bedtime meltdown. Kevin opened a bottle of red and they retired to the living room.
‘I don’t usually drink on a Monday,’ said Anita, happily accepting the proffered glass.
‘Granny Sundström has earned it.’ Kevin sat down beside her. ‘And what has Inspector Granny Sundström found out today?’
‘I found out that Anders Offesson is an unpleasant man. I don’t think he likes women much.’
‘Is he your man?’
‘He should be. He’s touchy about the business, which is understandable, but he was very touchy when I mentioned Eila Litmanen, or Riihiahti as she was then.’
‘That’s understandable, too, if he did kill his sister.’
‘And he doesn’t have an alibi for the night Litmanen died. He pulled out of attending a concert that evening. Said he was unwell.’
‘It’s all adding up. Litmanen must have got him over to his apartment on some pretext. Not sure why. Maybe to make him suffer – revenge for his mum.’
‘Yes. I can see that. It would explain the nature of the killing. Litmanen saying that he was going to tell the world that Offesson had committed sororicide. It fits in with it not being premeditated. Spur of the moment thing.’
Anita was staring thoughtfully into her glass.
‘I sense a but.’
‘I don’t doubt he has the strength to smash the lamp into Litmanen’s head, but... I’m not sure he’s physically up to the rest of it. He’d have to have driven to Malmö – forty-five minutes, say. Do the deed, then collect up all the things in the apartment that the murderer took away. Drive all the way back. This is a man of eighty-four, and not in the best of health.’
‘Could it have been the son?’
‘Why should he do it? He didn’t kill his aunt. Besides, he was at the concert with his wife.’
‘So, you’re back to square one.’
Anita grunted and took a long slurp of her wine.
The next morning, she knew that Alice Zetterberg would be after her. She’d ignored several calls that Zetterberg had made to her the night before. She managed to put off going to Moberg’s office until well after ten. By then, she and Hakim had gleaned some useful information.
Zetterberg was fuming, though she was trying to keep herself under control. The twitching eyes had always been a giveaway since their academy days. ‘Don’t you think I’ve got enough on my plate without getting an official complaint from Anders Offesson? And why the fuck weren’t you answering your phone last night?’
‘Babysitting. Didn’t want it to disturb my granddaughter.’ As lies go, it was at least plausible.
‘Anders Offesson is a very powerful man. And you blunder in there. Any moment now, I’ll get a call from Commission Dahlbeck wanting to know the reason why. You should have passed it by me first.’
‘I tried to but you were busy on the Kristina Ekman case.’
‘That’s no excuse. You’ve always been insubordinate. This whole department’s a mess and when I’ve sorted it out, if I have my way, you’ll be out, too.’
‘Don’t you want to know why I went to see Anders Offesson?’
This took Zetterberg by surprise. ‘Well?’ she blustered.
‘I found out in Finland that Sami Litmanen’s mother lived with the Offesson family during the war.’
‘So, there’s a connection. But it’s a hell of a jump to murdering someone.’
‘Anders Offesson had a five-year-old sister, Isabell. He killed her by deliberately pushing her out of a tree. Litmanen’s mother saw him do it. She
was only six at the time. Anders threatened her. She was in a strange country and was frightened so she didn’t say anything. She’s kept it bottled up all her life – until Sami’s last visit. He was already investigating Offesson’s South American operation and when his mother came out with the story, that’s what suddenly made the whole thing “personal” for him. I think he asked Anders Offesson over to his apartment that night. When confronted with what Litmanen knew about Isabell’s death, Anders felt he had no choice but to kill him.’
‘Anders Offesson must be an old man now.’
‘Eighty-four,’ Anita had to concede. It was an obvious flaw in her argument.
‘Is he physically up to it?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Well, that doesn’t sound very promising. Have you any evidence?’ Zetterberg demanded.
‘I’ve been able to get hold of the records for the Offessons’ landline phone. As you can imagine, there weren’t many calls on it with everybody using mobiles these days. With Hakim’s help, I’ve traced all the numbers except one. Two incoming calls from a mystery mobile. One on May the fourth then, more significantly, a second on the afternoon of the murder ten days later. I now believe they were from Sami Litmanen’s missing phone. Or one of them, anyway. We think he used different phones for different people. Offesson probably found more than one phone at the apartment.’
‘Can you be sure?’
‘It was a pay-as-you-go. So, no, I suppose I can’t be a hundred percent sure. The point is that Anders pulled out of going to a concert in Lund that night. The Offesson company were sponsoring it so he was expected to attend.’
‘You’re just jumping to conclusions as usual. You’re a loose cannon. And I can’t afford to have people like you buggering up my team. You’re on borrowed time, Anita.’ She wagged a threatening finger. ‘I don’t want you going anywhere near Anders Offesson again unless you have real proof. And you don’t make a move without my direct approval. Got it?’
CHAPTER 44
The next two days dragged for Anita and the rest of the Criminal Investigation Squad. Stung by Kristina Ekman’s comments, there had been plenty of activity, yet no hint of progress. Alice Zetterberg was now virtually hiding in Moberg’s office and snapping at anybody who ventured in. Anita was equally stymied. She had tried everything to connect Anders Offesson to Sami Litmanen’s killing. She was sure that Litmanen had contacted him. He had no alibi for the night of the murder. Yet she had no way of proving it. With her frustration reaching boiling point, she’d left the polishus late on Wednesday afternoon and was now sitting in Erik Moberg’s apartment.
Anita had never been there before. Of course, Moberg hadn’t been living in Oxie that long. The apartment, in a nondescript block surrounded by nondescript houses, was the result of his last divorce. He’d lived close to Limhamn in better days. The furniture was all second hand; the good stuff had gone to the various spouses over time. It was entirely his own fault, and Anita found it hard to raise much sympathy for him on that front. But she did feel sorry for him in his current predicament. His real marriage had always been to the job, the one constant in his life – now that was under threat. He was determined to come back to work as soon as possible, which is why he seemed to perk up at Anita’s visits: catching up with the case that he’d been heavily involved in before his heart attack was obviously doing him good. And Anita was also happy to see him at last taking his health seriously; he had rejected the Finnish chocolate she’d brought him. He was even off coffee and had offered her a green tea. She was impressed until, twenty minutes later he undermined his new regime by lighting up a cigarette.
‘It’s extraordinary that three kidnaps later, we’re no further forward,’ he said, shaking his head after Anita had filled him in on the details. She noticed he’d said ‘we’ as though he was still fully involved in the investigation. ‘I do take the point about the food. Odd, isn’t it? And Wallen’s angle on Peter Uhlig is interesting, too, if slightly unbelievable. Has she got any further with that?’
‘Not really, though she has dug up the fact that Trellogistics are having difficulties; and not just in Brazil. Uhlig might have been tempted to raise money, though it’s a strategy that could go horribly wrong.’
‘It would be a helluva gamble,’ Moberg said, stubbing out his cigarette decisively. ‘And is the injection of the odd four million euros going to make much difference to a large organization in trouble?’
‘If you do it often enough. But I know where you’re coming from.’
‘I must admit, sitting on the sidelines, you get a different perspective from when you’re in the middle of it all. We have one kidnap in March, then suddenly two in a row in May. Why the gap?’
‘Maybe some were harder to plan than others. Or the gang are getting more confident.’ Anita put down her half-drunk green tea. It wasn’t to her taste, and she couldn’t see Moberg surviving on it for much longer. ‘But yes, it’s niggled me too. The first, a quick in and out. Money moved digitally. The Uhlig and Ekman operations carried out in a more traditional way. Money has to be physically accessed. That takes time. The longer you’ve got your captive, the greater the risks.’
‘And the danger of the money drop-offs. Hell, we got done up like a kipper at Skårby. Yet you say that this German boyfriend of Kristina Ekman’s just left the ransom at Simrishamn church? That would have been difficult to collect if we’d known about it and been on hand. God, I can’t believe that bloody woman has turned up again.’ Anita could see he was becoming agitated; he sought calmness in another cigarette. He exhaled his first puff. ‘And Dag Wollstad paying up!’ He allowed himself a chuckle. ‘It’ll be peanuts to him, but it’s comforting to know it probably pissed him right off having to part with some of his precious millions for that bitch of a daughter. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer pair.’
The conversation changed to life at the polishus. Anita didn’t have much gossip, and she felt that she had better get going. She gathered up her bag and thanked him for the tea.
‘How are you coping with Alice Zetterberg?’
‘I’m not.’
‘Hang in there. I’ll be back before you know it. Couple of months, anyway.’
At the door, he gave her a hug. It caught her completely unawares.
‘Thanks for keeping in touch. No one else has.’
‘They’re just busy.’ The truth was that any friends that Moberg may have had had moved on or left the force. Maybe he didn’t have any real friends, she reflected.
‘And Anita. Don’t let Zetterberg get to you. You’re a damn good detective. I may not have shown how much I... you know what I mean.’
She didn’t know where to look. ‘Just come back soon,’ she found herself muttering.
Pildammsparken in the early evening was a delight to the senses. Dappled sunlight twinkled through the trees, which were in early leaf, and the freshly mown grass smelt sweet. Blackbirds sang their dulcet melodies while bees droned lazily among the flowers. June was Anita’s favourite month. Swedes longed for this time of year – the summers were all too short and needed to be treasured. Midsummer, when everyone threw off their inhibitions and celebrated the sun and the light, as their pagan ancestors had once done, was only three weeks away. It was still warm as Anita and Kevin sauntered round the park. Half of Malmö seemed to be there: families enjoying an after-supper walk; sweaty joggers wired up to their music; older couples arm in arm, oblivious to the activities around them; and groups of young people barbecuing on the grass. Anita and Kevin stopped by a bench and sat down. He would be leaving soon. To her amazement, she was starting to dread it. The irritation of his last stay had been replaced by a personal contentment she hadn’t felt since the early days of her marriage to Björn. She squeezed his hand.
‘What was that for?’
‘I’ve got this bizarre reflex action in my hand that sometimes I can’t control.’
‘I’d see a doctor about that in case you do it to strangers. They mig
ht pick up the wrong signal. Whoops, there it goes again!’
They continued to sit and enjoy people-watching. Kevin’s eye caught a group of students sitting on a rug. They were listening to a long-haired girl playing a guitar. Strains of the music and her gentle singing wafted across the park. The song was familiar, though Kevin couldn’t put a name to it. The music set off his train of thought.
‘I’ve been thinking about the concert in Lund. The one that Anders Offesson got out of.’
‘What about it?’
‘Did you check that Anders was at home when his son and daughter-in-law got back? If the murder was around ten, and Anders was the killer, he would have had to look for and gather up all the things in Litmanen’s apartment that might incriminate him, clean away any traces of his being there and then drive back; you estimate at least forty-five minutes. Given that it would be dark by then, add a few more minutes.’
‘And your point is that he wouldn’t get home until after eleven, and that the concert might have finished well before that?’
‘Exactly. The chances are that if it was Anders who committed the murder, he’d reach home later than Christer and... what’s her name?’
‘Felicity. Of course, as they were the concert sponsors, there might have been a reception after the event.’
‘Worth asking the question.’ Anita had taken out her phone even before he’d finished speaking.
‘Can I speak to Felicity Offesson please? It’s Inspector Anita Sundström.’ She turned to Kevin, who didn’t understand the Swedish. ‘Must be the housekeeper,’ Anita whispered. ‘She’s getting her.’
A minute later, Felicity was on the line.
‘Hello. I’ve just a quick question,’ said Anita in English. ‘It’s about that concert you and your husband attended in Lund. What time did it finish?’ Kevin couldn’t hear what was being said so just kept his eyes on Anita, who was nodding.
‘Was your father-in-law at home when you returned?’
MALICE IN MALMÖ Page 29