MALICE IN MALMÖ

by Torquil Macleod

  The disappointed expression on Anita’s face told him that she hadn’t got the answer she was after.

  ‘He must have been feeling better if he joined you for a nightcap?’

  Anita listened and was nodding again. ‘So about half ten?’ Another pause as Anita continued to concentrate. Kevin noticed that her expression began to change. Something was making her sit up. ‘That’s very good of you, Felicity. Sorry to have disturbed you.’

  Anita thoughtfully clicked to end the call and rested the phone on her lap.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Remember that you suggested that Christer Offesson might be our man? And I pooh-poohed the idea? And he had an alibi anyway? Well, according to Felicity, he left the concert at the interval. Urgent business. Didn’t reappear until after midnight.’

  ‘And Lund is close to Malmö?’

  ‘Twenty minutes.’

  CHAPTER 45

  Anita got into work early on Thursday morning. She was determined to find out all she could about Christer Offesson. As soon as Hakim appeared, she commandeered him to help. Christer was Anders’ only child. Now fifty-two, he had been educated at a private school in Stockholm before studying at the prestigious MIT Sloan School of Management in Cambridge, Massachusetts in America. Then he’d been brought into the family firm. His father had given him a thorough grounding in the world of coffee, which included a spell running one of the company’s Brazilian plantations. In 2009, his father stepped aside from the day-to-day running of Offesson’s, and Christer took over. Though he adopted a more cautious approach and was not as dynamic or as ruthless as Offesson Senior (this opinion garnered from a feature in Affärsvärlden, the long-standing weekly business publication), the company had continued to do well. However, Hakim had found a recent article with the heading: Trouble Brewing for Coffee Giant? which implied that profits were slipping and questions were being asked about Christer’s lack of focused leadership. Christer’s personal life had also run into trouble when he’d started having an affair with New York socialite Felicity Reading, the sister of one of his old classmates at business school. A messy divorce, which made headlines on both sides of the Atlantic, resulted in his first wife taking a sizeable slice of his personal fortune. This might explain Anders’ attitude to Felicity. The upside was that the Reading name came with big bucks from the fields of security, and health and safety. Neither marriage had produced children.

  Anita felt guilty as she sipped her coffee and bit into a much-needed cinnamon bun while poor Hakim was unable to touch anything. She stared at the two recent photos of Christer Offesson they’d printed off from online magazine articles. He was unmistakably his father’s son, though he wasn’t as obviously imposing. He clearly cared more about his appearance. He was clean-shaven and wore his blond hair very short. The suits were expensive. He was what her mother would call ‘well-groomed’.

  ‘Right, let’s go over everything again,’ Anita said after licking the last crumb off her lip. ‘Sami Litmanen latches onto a story of two leading Swedish companies battling it out, though we’re still not sure about what. What we do know is that it’s to do with South America, as he visited both Brazil and Colombia. From what Eila Litmanen told me, one of these companies is Offesson’s; and Litmanen visited their coffee-growing areas. The other Swedish company we know that is definitely involved with Brazil and Offesson’s is the Trellogistics subsidiary which transports Offesson’s beans, among other things. We now know that Uhlig’s company operation has been halted for reasons unknown. So, is it safe to assume that these are the companies Litmanen was looking at – Christer Offesson versus Peter Uhlig?’

  ‘I think so,’ Hakim agreed.

  ‘Within this framework, we also have to assume that something dodgy has been going on. Otherwise, where’s Litmanen’s story?’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Then a personal element comes into play, as confirmed by Erin Ljung at Sanningen. It turns out that Anders Offesson killed his sister, an event that has blighted Sami Litmanen’s mother’s life. So Litmanen’s potential scoop turns into a mission of retribution. Maybe it can’t be proved in a court of law, but that story getting into the public domain would have a dramatic effect not only on the Offesson family, but also on the business, which we now know might be experiencing difficulties. We also believe that Litmanen rang the Offesson home on two occasions, though that can’t be proved without the actual phone he used. But it’s highly significant that one of the calls was made on the day of the murder. Another assumption is that those calls were made to the old man. He was the target. Unfortunately, despite missing the concert, Anders wouldn’t have had time to have committed the murder and get back to have a nightcap with Felicity at ten thirty, or have the physical capacity to clear the scene afterwards. So now we need to look at Christer.’

  ‘Maybe Christer took Litmanen’s call. It was on the house phone.’

  ‘That’s one possibility. Another is that Anders took the calls and then confessed to his son. Whatever, the last call seems to have involved Litmanen inviting whichever Offesson it was over to his apartment so that he could exact his revenge face to face. It’s the only way I can explain how the murderer knew where Sami Litmanen lived. What we do know is that on the night, Christer left the concert at around a quarter to nine and didn’t appear again until after midnight. And as we know, Västra Hamnen isn’t far down the road from Lund. So, he had ample opportunity. And he also had time to dump or stash all the stuff he’d taken from the apartment before returning home after midnight.’

  Hakim stretched his long legs and yawned. ‘I buy all that. And the motive is—’

  ‘Interchangeable; father and son. Except that in Christer’s case, he’s protecting his father’s reputation as well as the company’s. Remember, Litmanen’s original investigation may well have exposed underhand dealings by Offesson’s Coffee. That in itself could have seriously harmed the company. Throw in the killing of Isabell Offesson, and the need to murder Sami Litmanen becomes a no-brainer.’

  ‘I like the logic. The only problem is that it’s all circumstantial. We can’t place Christer at the murder scene.’

  ‘I think we’ve got enough to go and see him. Rattle his cage.’

  ‘But will Zetterberg let us?’

  By the time Anita had decided to go to Alice Zetterberg with what she’d got, the acting chief inspector was nowhere to be found. Brodd reckoned that she was in meetings with the commissioner. Anita had little doubt that her visit to Anders Offesson was high on the agenda. The old man’s threat to finish her career might be the result. Though she could be impulsive at times, she realized that with Zetterberg, Dahlbeck and Anders Offesson, she had to be wary. Subduing her natural inclination to jump into a car and rush off and grill Christer Offesson, she waited for Zetterberg to appear. However, she spent her time wisely by finding out what Christer Offesson’s movements would be over the next few hours so she would know where to track him down. The company headquarters in Helsingborg said he wasn’t in and that he wasn’t expected back today; they thought he might be at home. A follow-up call to the Offesson mansion revealed that he wasn’t there either, though he was expected back for dinner. Anita wasn’t keen on the idea of confronting Christer at home in the company of his father. She might have to wait until tomorrow and catch him in Helsingborg – if Zetterberg hadn’t managed to get her suspended before then.

  It was around four o’clock when she heard a commotion outside her door. She got up from her desk and went to see what was happening. Klara Wallen came rushing down the corridor.

  ‘It’s happened again! A snatch!’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘On Östra Förstadsgatan.’

  It only took them a few minutes to get to the site of the seizure as it was only one street away from the back of the polishus. It wasn’t far from where Kristina Ekman had been taken.

  On the pavement, there was already a uniformed officer and a small crowd of standers-by. It wasn’t long before H
akim and Erlandsson joined them. Number 26 was an angular block of five storeys. On street level, there were two commercial premises either side of the entrance; one a closed kebab shop, the other a florist’s. A middle-aged woman was standing in the doorway of the florist’s wringing her hands.

  ‘I saw it all. A man came out of the front door of the apartments here and this dark blue van drove up. A couple of men... they were wearing black masks... burst out of the back of the van and grabbed him. Forced him inside and drove off down that way,’ she said, pointing to Värnhemstorget.

  ‘The same M.O.,’ said Wallen

  ‘How long ago?’ asked Anita, who found herself taking charge.

  ‘I rang the police straightaway. Ten minutes maybe.’

  ‘Hakim. Get straight onto traffic.’

  ‘Right away,’ said Hakim, pulling out his phone.

  The woman was obviously shocked. ‘It was frightening. I’ve never seen anything like it before.’

  ‘Can you describe this man?’

  ‘Well built. Medium height. Short hair. Fair.’

  ‘Have you seen him before?’

  ‘Yes. He’s come in here and bought flowers. Very well mannered. Polite.’

  Wallen was writing down the names of the apartment owners listed next to the buzzer on the wall by the entrance.

  ‘Did he live here?’ Wallen asked while still writing.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. I’ve never seen him going out in the morning, or coming home at night. It’s usually in the afternoons that I’ve seen him.’

  ‘Thank you; you’ve been really helpful,’ said Anita, patting the woman reassuringly on her arm. ‘Pontus, can you take this lady’s statement? Bea, you can start coordinating witness statements. Lots of people will have seen this.’

  She turned to Wallen. ‘Right, let’s check all the apartments. That should give us a name.’

  ‘What I can’t understand,’ said Wallen as she scrutinized her list, ‘is kidnapping someone from here. These are just basic apartments on a busy street. No one worth four million euros is going to be living here.’

  Anita buzzed into the building. There was a short passage to another door. Beyond that was a stone spiral staircase that ran up to the top floor. Next to the stairs were metal lift doors.

  ‘You start at the bottom, I’ll start at the top,’ said Anita as she summoned the lift. There was room for about four people at a squeeze. This wasn’t servicing luxury living.

  Anita and Wallen met at the halfway landing twenty minutes later. There were four floors with two apartments on each level, and then a further apartment in the attic at the top of the stairwell.

  ‘Everybody accounted for,’ said Wallen.

  ‘Same here,’ said Anita. ‘Except that top apartment. No one’s in. And there isn’t a name on the door.’

  ‘So that’s where the man came from?’

  ‘Must be. According to the old fellow in the apartment just below, it’s not lived in. Says this smartly dressed, middle-aged gentleman appears occasionally. Matches the florist’s description. Usually afternoons. And a woman.’

  ‘Has he seen her?’

  ‘Fleetingly, a couple of times. Forties. Quite attractive. Full figure. Red hair. But he’s heard her on a number of occasions.’

  ‘Heard her? Arguing?’

  ‘No. Screaming. Shouting. He went all round the houses because he couldn’t bring himself to say sex, but that’s what she and the smart gentleman were up to. Old chap had to turn up the television to drown out the noises.’

  Wallen shook her head. ‘A love nest. A rich businessman with a love nest. Our gang must have sussed that out.’

  Anita’s phone went off. ‘Hi, Hakim. Any joy?’ After a short conversation, she looked at Wallen. ‘Traffic have stopped a couple of blue vans. Not them. Hakim’s now got the vehicle number plate from one of the witnesses on the street, so they know what they’re looking for. Nothing yet.’

  Wallen glanced at her watch. ‘It’s been about half an hour. Probably gone to ground by now.’

  ‘Better wind things up quickly down here and then get back and check out who owns that top apartment. And we’d better report back to Zetterberg. I can’t imagine how she’s going to break this to the commissioner!’

  Zetterberg had been dragged out of her meeting with Commissioner Dahlbeck to hear the news of the latest kidnap. She was almost apoplectic. This was a total nightmare. She had just spent the last two hours trying to justify what the team had been doing over the last fortnight. Dahlbeck thought of it as inaction at best; mismanagement and indolence at worst. Zetterberg had managed to put some of the blame on Moberg’s original handling of the first two kidnaps and some on what she described as the ‘uncontrollable’ Inspector Sundström. Though Anita wasn’t highly regarded by Dahlbeck – there had been too many infractions going back to the shooting of Mick Roslyn – Zetterberg hadn’t avoided all the flack. Now the pressure was really on.

  Zetterberg hurriedly convened a meeting in which she was updated on what had happened. Wallen told her they believed that the attic apartment was a wealthy man’s love nest. The operation had been the same as Kristina Ekman’s – masked men appearing from a van and grabbing someone off the street. This one had been a particularly public abduction. And at least this time they had the van’s registration number. Hakim had already discovered that it had been stolen in Kalmar on the east coast on Tuesday, 23rd May; three days ago. They were trying to locate camera footage of it to see in which direction it had gone. Afterwards, Zetterberg had insisted on going down to Östra Förstadsgatan. If nothing else, she was desperate to show that she was a hands-on acting chief inspector. She rushed off with her new lapdog, Brodd.

  Anita let her get on with it. Zetterberg had made it plain that she didn’t really want Anita involved. There had been no chance to voice her theory about Christer Offesson. Maybe she would drive out to the Offesson home and wait for him to return. Intercept him at the gates. Not in the house. Not at this stage anyway.

  She popped her head round Hakim’s door. She wanted to tell him what she planned. Now that their relationship seemed to be back on an even keel, she was happy to confide in him. The truth was that she trusted his judgement. He was on the phone and she waited until he’d finished his call.

  ‘As I won’t be missed here, I thought I’d see if I can track down Christer Offesson.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bother,’ said Hakim. He rubbed his forehead as though a headache was coming on.

  ‘Think it’s a bad idea?’

  ‘I don’t think you’ll find him.’

  ‘He’ll turn up tonight. He’s due to eat at home.’

  ‘I doubt he’ll make it. I’ve just found out who owns that top apartment.’

  CHAPTER 46

  ‘Christer Offesson! Please tell me you’re joking!’ Anita was incredulous.

  ‘He bought the apartment two years ago,’ Hakim explained. ‘It wasn’t through the business. He used his own name. Presumably, he chose this part of town as he would be less likely to run into his wife.’

  Anita slumped down in shock. ‘I can’t believe our prime suspect has just been whipped away from under our very noses. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that Christer Offesson is our man.’

  ‘His kidnap makes sense given the other targets. Another leading business figure. Zetterberg’s going to have to warn the family that a call is imminent.’

  ‘I can’t believe all this.’ Anita readjusted her glasses, which had slid down her nose. ‘You don’t think he’s organized his own kidnap? Must have been worried after I’d talked to his father.’

  ‘Anita, I think that’s a bit fanciful. What happens when he turns up?’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to talk to Zetterberg. I’ll ring her now with the news it’s Christer Offesson, and then you’ve got to let her know that the cases have just dovetailed.’

  Anita groaned.

  It
was an hour before Zetterberg returned, and she was busy in conference with Brodd.

  ‘What do you want?’ she roared when Anita entered the meeting room.

  ‘Christer Offesson.’

  ‘I know it’s him. Hakim phoned me. Bea’s just calling to let the wife know.’

  ‘He’s now the main suspect in the Sami Litmanen killing.’

  Zetterberg’s expression was one of disbelief. ‘I thought you said it was Anders, the old man.’

  ‘I did. But you were right to be sceptical about his age. And I now know he couldn’t have done it. He didn’t have the time.’

  ‘So what makes you think it’s Christer?’

  ‘Same reasons as the old man. But this time it was about protecting his father’s reputation and that of Offesson’s Coffee; I’m sure Litmanen must have had something damaging on the company as well. Christer had motive – and opportunity. He left a concert in Lund early and wasn’t seen again until after midnight.’

  ‘Proof?’ Zetterberg growled in exasperation.

  ‘I haven’t found any yet. And it’s not as though I can interview him!’

  ‘This is a fucking mess. Dahlbeck’ll make sure we’re all in for the chop.’

  Just then Klara Wallen came into the room. ‘The van’s been found. Abandoned on a side road near Staffanstorp. They must have switched vehicles.’

  ‘How far out of town?’

  ‘Roughly fifteen minutes. I’m going there now.’

  ‘Right, I’m coming with you. Pontus, get onto forensics. I want them down there a.s.a.p..’ After her recent panics and despair, Zetterberg was at last switching to decisive mode. ‘And you,’ she said, indicating Anita, ‘can go with Hakim to the Offessons’ place. They’ll be getting a call soon. Get a techie along to set up recording equipment.’ Then, as an afterthought, ‘And while you’re at it, you can find some of that proof you need, so when we get Christer Offesson back, we can arrest him for murder.’

  It wasn’t the housekeeper that greeted Anita and Hakim, but a pale and shocked Felicity Offesson. It was a quarter past eight, and she was dressed for dinner in a knee-length, light-pink dress.