Leona

by Jenny Rogneby

  I had walked past Claes’s office and seen Minna sitting in one of the chairs in front of him. Claes had a worried look, so I’d slipped into the storeroom adjacent to his office. From there you could partly hear what was being said. Claes’s voice was clear. Minna’s was harder to make out.

  “And?” said Claes. “That’s how we work here. Everyone doesn’t need to know everything. Leona is responsible for the case and I’m sure she’ll tell you what you need to know to do the investigative tasks she requires.”

  Still nothing audible from Minna. Even though I was standing really close to the wall.

  From Claes’s responses I gathered that Minna thought I was closing them out of the investigation, which she had quite correctly understood. On the other hand I hadn’t expected her to go and discuss that with Claes. I had heard a lot of bullshit between colleagues over the years. More often than not it never reached the boss, but this latest batch of police officers seemed more inclined to criticize both their colleagues and bosses. I should’ve been more careful. Minna Nordin, the newly hatched police constable, had apparently asked to speak with her boss privately and was now sitting across from him, criticizing my work.

  While I stood there and cursed myself for not having foreseen this, my phone rang in my pocket. I swore, because the sound was on. Usually I had the phone on silent because I hated ring tones.

  “But wait now, stop, stop, stop!” said Claes in a loud voice from the adjacent room.

  For a moment I thought he had heard the ring tone and realized that someone was in the room next door.

  “Are you eavesdropping on your colleagues’ phone calls?” he continued in a loud voice.

  I realized that it wasn’t me he was talking to but Minna. I managed to get the phone out of my pocket after two rings and declined the call.

  There was silence from Minna. I turned off the sound and checked the missed calls. Christer Skoog’s name showed up on the display.

  “You should be damned well aware of the fact that Leona is one of our best investigators,” said Claes. “That she is sitting in her office with the door closed means that she is up to her ears in work. If she seems absent it means that she is concentrating on work, which you and Sam should be doing too.”

  I was pleased that Claes had come to my defense and that he wasn’t listening to the attacks Minna was evidently making. He continued.

  “That you’re eavesdropping on phone calls and come running to the boss with incomprehensible and poorly founded assertions about your own colleague says more about you than about her. Your task is to do exactly what Leona tells you to. Do you have any problems with that?”

  “Sorry…just wanted…to tell…”

  “Thanks, but I’m not interested in a lot of bullshit behind people’s backs. We don’t work that way here. If you have a problem, bring it up directly with Leona. I don’t have time for that sort of thing.”

  Complete silence from Minna. Hopefully Claes had made it clear to her that she had no business bringing gossip to the boss. There was some clatter in the office. I heard the door open and close. I remained standing. Waited awhile before I went out.

  “Kenneth, you asked before if I had an investigation I needed extra insight into.”

  It was Claes. He must have called Kenneth Fransén, the head of investigations.

  “The girl robbery. My investigator Leona is running it well, but it would be interesting to bring in someone who can look at it with, shall we say, fresh eyes.”

  Even though Claes had scolded Minna, she had evidently sown a seed of doubt in his mind. I had known from the start that there would be problems having Minna and Sam on my heels. I needed to be more vigilant.

  FORTY-NINE

  It was two-thirty when I dialed the number of the city prosecutor’s office. With luck, I would get hold of Nina. I had managed to find a person in the register who lived only a few blocks from SEB and who had previously been involved in a couple of armored transport robberies. A perfect suspect. I needed Nina’s permission to bring him in for questioning.

  “Nina Wallin.”

  She sounded stressed. Now it was important to be quick, as always when speaking with the prosecutors. Convey what you wanted as briefly and concisely as possible. Being prepared before the call was the only way to maintain any sort of respect for the Police Department from the prosecutors, who usually thought that police were uneducated nitwits.

  “Nina, it’s Leona Lindberg. City police.”

  “Yep.”

  You would have to search for days for a shorter reply.

  “I’m calling about the girl robbery. Do you have time?”

  “Not really. What?”

  “I have two independent witnesses, Alexandra Nilsson and Kent Sandström, who saw a man leave the scene running and carrying a small, colorful bag. The man is probably involved in the robbery.”

  Not a word from Nina.

  “He is identified as one Steven Mellström, born in 1974. Matches the description. Drives a dark blue Audi. Previously convicted of complicity in robbery of two armored transports.”

  The description the witnesses had given also fit every other middle-aged man in Stockholm, but along with the rest Nina should at least agree that he should be questioned. I didn’t even intend to ask her to put out an arrest warrant — it would be enough if he was brought in for questioning.

  “He lives at Banérgatan 41. He has two children, but no seven-year-old girl. Both seem to live with their mother. Do you want to bring him in for questioning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. House search too?”

  “Yes.”

  This was going unusually smoothly — a house search and bringing him in for questioning without previous summons. I heard quick tapping on the keyboard and I could not decide whether Nina was entering the order in the computer system or if she was simply working on something else while we were talking. I got the feeling that I could have asked Nina to have Steven Mellström arrested, indicted, and convicted, too, and gotten a positive response without her really thinking about what she was saying. But I didn’t intend to point that out. It was up to her to make the decisions.

  “Okay, thanks. That was all I wanted,” I said. “We’ll have to be in touch later…”

  “Sorry, what did we decide on?” said Nina.

  The keys fell silent.

  “You just decided on a pickup and house search for Steven Mellström at Banérgatan 41, who was seen by two independent witnesses leaving the area running at the time of the robbery.”

  “I see, okay.”

  Nina continued tapping.

  “Yep, then that’s done,” said Nina.

  I went straight out and ordered Minna and Sam to carry out a house search and pick up Steven Mellström.

  FIFTY

  The next morning Minna and Sam were standing in the doorway, glaring into my office. It was quarter past eight.

  “We’ve brought in Mellström. He was physically calm but babbled a lot on the way in. Said that we had made a big mistake. He hasn’t done anything and doesn’t know anything about anything. Yes, the usual,” said Minna. “But listen, there was another thing we wanted to tell you about the crime scene…”

  “Has he said anything about wanting to have a lawyer?”

  “No, and we didn’t ask. We thought that you would do that part with him yourself.”

  I grabbed my papers and started leaving the room. Minna and Sam remained standing in the doorway. As usual there was no action in them.

  “And the house search?” I said.

  Minna shook her head.

  “Produced nothing. But listen, there was something we saw last week when we visited the crime —”

  I squeezed past and walked quickly toward the interview room. I had neither the time nor the energy to listen to more.

  I had asked Minna and Sam to bring Steven Mellström to the newly constructed video room. Not because I wanted to record the interview, but rather because
I wanted to be able to see and read him from the adjacent observation room before the questioning started.

  I could see him moving around the room, pacing heatedly back and forth. Biting his nails. This was not the right moment to go in. I turned and went toward the break room, grabbing a cappuccino from the machine. The taste was harsh and bitter, but it was still drinkable. The Aftonbladet from the previous day was tossed over the seat on the sofa. Just like before, the front page was adorned with news that concerned the girl robbery. GIRL MAY BE DAUGHTER OF BILLIONAIRE it said in black block letters. Once again I was astonished at the inventiveness of the newspapers. The phone rang.

  “Tina Nord from Expressen. Is it correct that you have a suspect in the girl robbery?”

  Where did they get their information from?

  “I don’t have time to talk. I’m in the middle of a questioning.”

  “Does it concern the girl robbery?”

  I hung up. I hadn’t even told Mellström about our suspicions yet, and still the newspapers knew.

  I went into the observation room again. Looked at the monitor. He was standing still now, leaning his back against one wall of the room. It was time. I opened the door and went in. Without a sound I sat down on the office chair. The interview room had recently been equipped with softer chairs, which were much more comfortable when the interviews dragged on. I changed the settings on the chair, to get it into a good position. Without looking at him I said, “Please sit down.”

  “No, I’ll stand.”

  “No.” I said firmly, looking up from the papers right at him. “Please sit.”

  I nodded at the chair on the other side of the table.

  “I’ll stand,” he answered, looking at me.

  I got up. I took the papers and left the room. Closed and locked the door from outside. Mellström would quickly understand who made the decisions in the interview room. I had stopped arguing with interview subjects long ago. I didn’t have the energy. To start yelling and shouting at them, as some of my colleagues did, only had a negative effect. Today, as well, I had a pounding headache that refused to go away, even though I had taken two painkillers. Mellström was innocent, and for that reason I could naturally expect some challenge from him about why he’d been brought in.

  Too bad I’d already had a coffee. What could I do now while Mellström calmed down? I didn’t have the energy for anything other than taking a little walk in the corridor.

  “It should be working again now,” said a young guy to Anette, closing a cover on the photocopier farther down the corridor.

  “That’s great,” said Anette. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

  Claes’s office was empty. Too bad, otherwise I would have taken the opportunity to elevate myself a little by telling him I’d brought in a suspect. I checked my mailbox. Only a couple of analyses from the forensics lab on narcotics tests showing positive on a number of different substances. It concerned two suspects in a gold robbery that had been put on hold in favor of the girl robbery. I’d already figured out that the men were under the influence when they carried out the robbery. I was surprised that they had so much poison in their bodies. How much could you take and still manage to have enough acuity to rob a goldsmith’s shop? Not that much, evidently, because they were caught, with a lot of fanfare. It was typical of criminals not to understand their own limitations.

  I went back to the observation room and looked at Steven Mellström. He was sitting on the chair. Good. Time for a new attempt. I opened the door and went in. Without a word I sat down.

  “I assume that you know how this works, because I’ve seen that this is not the first time you’ve visited us.”

  “What the hell? Are you going to start dredging up a lot of old shit now that I didn’t do either? I haven’t done anything, get it? What kind of fucking…”

  I knew that the comment was unnecessary. That he had “visited” the police before sounded sarcastic, and I could have spared both him and myself by not saying it.

  “What the hell do you want, anyway?”

  He was staring at me. I calmly held his gaze without saying anything. A good ten seconds passed. As soon as he looked away I would start talking. He looked down. I said calmly but firmly, “Okay, Steven, that was clumsily worded. But you know how this works. I ask the questions and you answer. Listen carefully, because this is serious. You are suspected on probable cause of a robbery at SEB, Östermalmstorg, on the second of September this year at 10:37 a.m.”

  “What the hell are you saying? Bank robbery! What is this?”

  His reaction was expected. It was a common reaction among both the innocent and the guilty. The whole interview was a torment, both for me and for him. For him, because he was innocent, and for me because I couldn’t bear to hear him talk. But it was necessary so that I could show I was making progress in the investigation.

  “If you want I can leave so you can let off steam. I can come back in two hours when you’ve calmed down.”

  “But what the hell!”

  I saw that he really was trying to control himself. He should be happy that he hadn’t already been arrested. There were also a number of possible charges that it might have been relevant to inform him of, but because in the present situation I couldn’t be expected to know exactly in what way he was involved in the crime I simply told him robbery.

  “As you know you have the right to have a lawyer at the interview.”

  I paused to await an answer. He sat with his head in his hands.

  “I want a new one. The last one was so fucking lousy.”

  “I see, who?”

  “It was that bastard who’s always in the papers, what’s his name now…”

  “No, I mean, who do you want now?”

  “I don’t want one of those publicity-hungry lawyers who think they’re —”

  “Do you want a lawyer or not?”

  I had no patience left, and I couldn’t put up with much drivel.

  “Oh, hell, I don’t have anything to defend myself against. I haven’t done anything.”

  “Lawyer not wanted.”

  I repeated it loudly so that it would be clear to him that he had just chosen not to have an attorney present. Then there was less risk later that he would babble that the police refused him a lawyer. This would be simpler than I thought.

  “Okay, Steven. Both you and I know that this interview must be held, and I can’t bear to put up with a lot of crap today, so instead I’ll get right to the point. I will ask direct questions. You’ll answer the questions I ask clearly and won’t mention irrelevant matters that don’t belong here, okay?”

  He sighed.

  “What were you doing on the second of September of this year?”

  “The hell if I know.”

  “It was just over a month ago. You must remember.”

  “I was probably at work.”

  “Where do you work?”

  “Various jobs here and there.”

  “What kind of odd job did you have on that particular day?”

  He shrugged. I didn’t intend to press him. The fuzzier he was, the better.

  “What were you doing on the seventeenth of September? Just over two weeks ago.”

  Steven shrugged again. I had nothing that showed that he had been in the vicinity when the robbery at Forex in Old Town took place, but I really wanted to know what he was doing. Maybe he had no alibi.

  “You don’t want to say?”

  He didn’t seem to have any desire to talk, which was positive. The possibility of persuading the prosecutor to have him arrested was greater if he didn’t come up with a credible story about where he might have been.

  “I can’t bear to haggle with you. So you have nothing more to say?”

  “Nothing except that I haven’t robbed any bank.”

  “I’m going to report to the prosecutor what you’ve said, or rather what you haven’t said, then she will decide whether you stay here with us or not.”

 
I went out and called the prosecutor. Nina answered before the first ring ended.

  “Leona! Excuse me for being so abrupt last time.”

  I appreciated the apology.

  “Mellström has been picked up,” I said. “I just questioned him. He denies it, but refused to say anything else.”

  “The house search?”

  “Produced nothing. Not that we expected to find a lot of bills lined up on the kitchen table, but, well, nothing.”

  “No bag, either?”

  “The apartment was pretty empty. Hardly any furniture, just a lot of dirty laundry.”

  “What do we actually have on him?” said Nina.

  “Two independent witnesses.”

  “Have they pointed him out in a lineup?”

  “No, but they described him in detail. He is known to us, too. He’s been in prison for armed transport robbery before. He also refuses to say what he was doing on the days when the crimes occurred.”

  “Okay. Arrest him. But be sure to produce something. I need more to go on for the arrest proceedings. You have three days.”

  “By the way, I didn’t get an answer to that email — are you coming to the meeting this afternoon when I summarize the case for Claes and Fransén?”

  “Claes was in touch with me, too. I thought he would have told you that I was coming.”

  I see, Claes had contacted Nina directly, without mentioning it to me? I probably had to be prepared for a few surprises at the meeting. I walked past Claes’s office on my way back to the interview room. It was still empty but he came walking up from farther down the corridor.

  “Leona! Some tipster called me and said he had important information about the girl robbery that the investigators had missed. The switchboard must have mistakenly transferred him to me. He didn’t say who he was but he wanted you to call. Maintained that you knew what it was about.”

  Claes looked questioningly at me. I nodded. I knew. Christer Skoog was really starting to get on my nerves. It was hardly a mistake by the switchboard. He evidently did not balk at calling my boss.