Still Waters (Sandhamn Murders Book 1)

by Viveca Sten

  Thomas took the certificate and studied it closely. He was so absorbed that he barely noticed when the waitress asked him for the second time whether he would like coffee or a dessert. He ordered a double espresso. No dessert. Nora did the same, after sadly concluding that the tempting chocolate mousse wasn’t really suitable for a diabetic.

  “Strindberg,” Thomas said. “I recognize the name, but I can’t place it. Apart from the famous playwright, of course,” he said and smiled.

  “She joined the board in 2000,” Nora pointed out. “An interesting coincidence, wouldn’t you say? The same year the company increased its profits so dramatically. Before that the board consisted of Philip Fahlén and his father, with his mother as a deputy member.”

  Thomas sipped his espresso, which had just arrived, relishing the deep coffee flavor. His face clearly revealed that he had just thought of something. “Viking Strindberg,” he said as he put down his cup. “Krister Berggren’s boss is called Strindberg.”

  “What if he’s married to a woman called Marianne?” Nora said, excited.

  “He seemed inexplicably nervous when I spoke to him,” Thomas said. “I wonder if this could be a coincidence?” He raised his glass in a toast. “Here’s to you, Nora. This is fantastic. I’m glad you persuaded me to come over. You’re a master detective, no doubt!”

  THURSDAY, THE FOURTH WEEK

  CHAPTER 57

  “How’s it going?”

  Carina looked up to see Margit standing in the doorway of her office. The day had hardly begun. The corridors were still silent, but Carina had been working since seven thirty. There was nothing wrong with her ambition. Her desk was cluttered with piles of paper.

  “The ferry company sent this over yesterday, but I haven’t had time to go through it all yet.” She rubbed her eyes and stretched.

  “Have you found anything?” Margit asked.

  Carina shook her head. “I’ve hardly started. Do you know how many passengers a ferry to Finland carries? Thousands at a time. And they’re listed according to the order in which they bought their tickets. The guy I spoke to said there was some kind of computer error that meant they couldn’t sort the names into alphabetical order, and I’ve only got hard copies of everything, nothing digital.” She held out a bundle of lists. “I’m looking for anyone with a name that’s similar to Almhult or Fahlén; it could be misspelled.” She looked down at the lists. Row upon row of names. “And then of course we don’t know whether Fahlén used his own name. It might almost be easier to wait for the electronic file so I can sort it on the computer instead.”

  “But we can’t afford to wait, so I’m afraid you’ll just have to keep looking,” Margit said. She turned away, then stuck her head in the door again. “You are starting with Sunday’s departures, I presume?”

  Carina raised her eyebrows. “Of course.”

  Margit smiled. “I should have realized. I know you’re doing your best.”

  Carina shook her head. “No problem. I’ll let you know as soon as I find something.”

  Margit went to get herself another cup of coffee. She looked at her watch: twenty to nine. Thomas was seeing Philip Fahlén this morning to push him harder. He had called her late last night to tell her about Nora’s scrutiny of Fahlén’s accounts and the conclusions they had drawn.

  Margit and Thomas had agreed that he would stay over and visit Fahlén the following morning in order to confront him with the information. Better to try to take him by surprise one last time, rather than bring him in for a formal interview where he could have his lawyer present.

  Things were certainly starting to look awkward for Mr. Fahlén, Margit thought. As soon as she saw that horrible green house she had felt that something wasn’t right. Something didn’t ring true.

  Her task this morning was to chase details of his recent phone calls, and perhaps even get a warrant to tap his phone.

  She called the prosecutor’s number.

  CHAPTER 58

  Thomas had gratefully accepted the loan of the Linde family’s launch so he could get over to his own house on Harö for the night and come back to Sandhamn the following morning in plenty of time to see Philip Fahlén. He moored the little boat at the Lindes’ jetty and set off for Västerudd at a rapid pace. It was slightly cooler than it had been earlier in the week; the morning air was fresh and clear. A much more pleasant temperature than the stifling heat of the last few days.

  As he walked he took the opportunity to call Carina. He asked her to find out if Marianne Strindberg was married to a man called Viking and if they both lived at the same address in Tyresö that appeared on the registration certificate for Fahlén & Co. When she confirmed that this was the case, Thomas couldn’t help smiling.

  Philip Fahlén opened the door as soon as Thomas knocked. Reluctantly he showed Thomas into the kitchen and pointed to a chair. He didn’t look well; his face was red, and he had noticeable bags under his eyes.

  “So,” he said, “what is it this time?”

  “I’d like to ask you a few more questions.”

  Thomas ignored the obvious antipathy coming from Fahlén. This time he was determined to back the man into a corner. He sat down; Fahlén moved to the other side of the table, as far away from Thomas as possible.

  “I’m interested in your company. I believe it’s been doing much better over the past few years? You’ve made an impressive profit since the millennium, as I understand it.”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Could you answer the question, please?”

  Fahlén glanced around. “Things have gone pretty well. There’s nothing odd about that. We’ve been successful for years.”

  “How do you explain the fact that your profits have tripled?”

  “We’ve put the effort in. If you work hard, you make money. It’s no mystery.”

  “You must have worked extremely hard. As far as I can see, your profit margin is much higher than the industry norm.”

  “Is that against the law?”

  “That’s not what I said. But it’s rather unusual. I’d be interested to hear how you’ve achieved such excellent results.” He leaned back in his chair.

  Fahlén stood up abruptly and went over to the sink. He took a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water. He kept his back to Thomas as he drank.

  “Did you understand the question?” Thomas asked.

  No response.

  Thomas spoke more sharply. “Answer the question.”

  Fahlén turned around, an aggressive look in his eye. “Are you deaf? I just told you, we’ve worked hard. Picked up new clients, secured large orders. That’s what happens when you do business.” He turned back to the sink. “Isn’t a man allowed to work in this fucking police state these days without some asshole turning up and quizzing him?”

  A thick silence spread through the room. Thomas waited, not moving a muscle.

  The only sound came from Philip Fahlén’s throat as he gulped down more water.

  “Who’s Marianne Strindberg?” Thomas asked.

  Fahlén gave a start. “What?”

  “Could you tell me who Marianne Strindberg is?”

  “She’s a member of my board.”

  “Why?”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “I’d like to know why she’s on the board. She hasn’t been there very long, has she?”

  “She’s an economist. I thought it would be useful to have someone like her.”

  “And you suddenly realized this four years ago, having managed perfectly well for many years with only your father on the board?”

  “What’s my father got to do with this?” Fahlén was extremely agitated.

  Thomas decided it was time for a change of tack. “How come the payment to your board members has gone up from fifty thousand to six hundred thousand kr
onor since Marianne Strindberg joined?”

  “That’s none of your business,” said Fahlén, tearing off a paper towel and mopping his brow. “But if you must know, I thought it was time I paid the board members a little more. Is that not allowed?” He spread his arms wide and looked at Thomas.

  “Of course, but it’s rather unusual,” Thomas said as he studied the fat man’s expression. “Would you like to know what I think?”

  “Not really.”

  Thomas decided there was no point in beating around the bush. “I think you raised the fees payable to board members because you had to pay Marianne Strindberg for the services supplied by her husband.”

  Fahlén tried to appear unmoved, but then he turned pale and reached out a hand to lean against the sink.

  Thomas fixed his gaze on Fahlén. “I happen to know that Marianne Strindberg, who is a member of your board, is married to Viking Strindberg, who works for Systemet. And I have a feeling this same Viking Strindberg helps you out with special deliveries; he smuggles out wine and spirits, which you sneak into various restaurants along with the equipment you supply, and your clients reward you handsomely. This additional source of income is the reason your turnover suddenly increased so significantly, and it explains why you earn so much more than anyone else in the industry.” Thomas leaned back and folded his arms. He stared at Fahlén with a challenging gaze. “That’s what I think,” he said after a moment. His words hung in the air, vibrating with energy long after they had been uttered.

  Fahlén had had enough. He wiped his brow again; it was covered in beads of sweat. He pointed at the door with a shaking hand. “Out,” he said. “Get out of my house. You have no right to come here making accusations. I’m calling my lawyer.”

  Thomas gazed at him calmly, wondering if he should stay and try to get Fahlén to answer a few more questions.

  Fahlén was so agitated that there was spittle at the corners of his mouth. His chin was trembling, and a muscle just below his left eye was twitching.

  Thomas decided to leave. There wasn’t much point in trying to wind him up even more. It would be better to bring him into the station as soon as they were absolutely certain of his relationship with Viking Strindberg and had access to his phone records.

  Thomas got up and moved to the door. As he opened it he turned back. “I’ll be in touch,” he said. “Soon.”

  “Get out,” Fahlén panted. “Get out.”

  CHAPTER 59

  Henrik walked into the kitchen, seething.

  Nora, who was busy making pancakes for the following day’s trip to Grönskär, raised her eyebrows. “What’s happened?”

  “What’s happened is that our new perch net has a great big hole in it,” Henrik said. “The boys have been playing in the boathouse, and now we have a ripped net and several tears in the flounder rig. It’s going to take forever to repair them, and I was supposed to be out laying nets with Hasse Christiansson today.”

  Nora tried to look sympathetic. “It’s not the end of the world.”

  Henrik looked angry, and Nora backtracked.

  “I realize you’re annoyed, but we can always buy a new one. I suppose that’s why we get child benefits, to pay for all the trouble they cause,” she joked.

  Henrik was still mad. “They have to learn to be careful with things. I’m sick and tired of them leaving their stuff all over the place and breaking everything.” He stood at the bottom of the stairs and shouted. “Simon, Adam, get down here right now. I want to talk to you.”

  “We haven’t done anything,” came the chorus from their bedroom.

  “Get down here, I said.”

  “Couldn’t you ask Signe if you can borrow a net? She’s got lots,” Nora suggested. She was trying to avoid a fight and to rescue the fishing trip at the same time.

  Henrik allowed himself to be appeased and lowered his voice. “Can’t you ask her? You know her better than I do.”

  “Of course,” Nora said, relieved that the crisis seemed to have been averted. “I’ll go over in a minute when I’ve finished these pancakes.”

  Nora opened the beautiful handmade double gate leading to the Brand house. She walked up to the front door and knocked. There were no doorbells on Sandhamn. The door would be left open, and you would just shout out a cautious “hello” before walking in, or knock loudly. Either approach was fine, as long as you announced your presence in some way.

  Signe opened the door wearing her usual apron, the one Nora had seen her in for so many years. Sometimes Nora wondered whether Signe, like the Phantom with all his outfits in the Skull Cave, had an endless supply of identical aprons hidden away somewhere, so she could just bring out a new one when the old one wore out.

  Nora greeted her cheerfully. “I wonder if we could possibly borrow one of your perch nets? Adam and Simon have managed to rip ours. They were supposed to be out laying nets today, so otherwise we’ll end up with no dinner!” She winked at Signe. “As you can imagine, Henrik isn’t pleased. He’s just banned the boys from using the computer for two hours as a punishment. They’ll never play in the boathouse without permission again!”

  “Of course you can borrow a net. Just go down and take whatever you want.”

  Kajsa came to the door and pushed her wet nose into Nora’s leg. Nora bent down to pet her. Kajsa was the sweetest dog in the world. The gray hairs around her nose gave away the fact that she was getting old, just like her mistress.

  Signe handed over the key to the boathouse. “Just make sure the net is clean before you put it back!”

  Nora smiled. A net full of seaweed was no joke. Signe knew what she was talking about. You could beat the net with juniper branches forever without getting it really clean. It was Signe who had taught Nora that the best way of cleaning a really dirty net was to bury it in the ground for a few weeks. Somehow the enzymes in the ground broke down the seaweed; it simply disappeared, and the net was miraculously clean. An old archipelago trick that came in handy from time to time.

  Nora went down to the boathouse, which was right next to the jetty belonging to the Brand property. It was absolutely typical, painted Falu red with a green door.

  Many people on the island envied Signe the large jetty that had space for so many boats. The demand for moorings was always greater than the supply. The bulletin board in the harbor was always full of notes from boat owners who had no mooring. The going rate for a summer berth had shot up recently and had now reached several thousand kronor. Quite a number of residents made some extra cash by renting out vacant moorings at their own jetties. Signe allowed two families who had owned summer cottages on Sandhamn for a long time to rent berths at the Brand jetty for a reasonable sum.

  Nora unlocked the boathouse door with the old, heavy key. It was quite gloomy inside, and the small light on the ceiling didn’t really help much. Now where were the perch nets? She looked along the wall. Most of the nets were in a good state of repair, but the odd one was old and torn. Nora turned over the net needle in one of the worst and noticed that it bore the initials KL instead of SB. Obviously someone else was keeping nets in Signe’s boathouse; perhaps it was one of the summer visitors?

  She found the nets she was looking for at the back on the right-hand side. She unhooked two of them and carefully carried them out into the sunshine. She locked the boathouse, then carried the nets down to their own jetty, where Henrik was busy getting the boat ready.

  “There you go.” She handed the nets over carefully so they wouldn’t get tangled. “I hope you catch lots of fish. I suppose we’ll need to eat early if you’re in the twenty-four-hour race. It starts at midnight, doesn’t it?”

  “If we eat around five that should give me plenty of time; I don’t need to leave until nine,” said Henrik, who had calmed down considerably. He smiled warmly at her, and it felt as if he were trying to smooth over the disagreements of the past few days.

>   “Actually, I’ve got something exciting to tell you,” Nora said, crossing her fingers behind her back. “Something I’d like to have a chat about this evening. But you’d better set off now before it gets too late.”

  Henrik helped Adam into the boat. He had nagged and nagged to be allowed to go along and help with the nets.

  Nora blew him a kiss. “Promise you’ll be good?”

  Adam looked at her and saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain. I’ll be really, really good. Especially if I’m allowed to steer the boat,” he said with a shy glance at Henrik, worried that his escapade with the nets might have scuppered his chances of taking the wheel.

  Henrik laughed and ruffled Adam’s hair. Harmony had been restored.

  “Come on, Tiger. Let’s go. Of course you can steer for a little while.”

  Nora wandered pensively back to the house, wondering how to tell Henrik that she really wanted to take the job in Malmö.

  They hadn’t mentioned it again after the argument on Saturday night. She hadn’t found the right moment to tell him that she’d had a meeting in town with the recruitment agency.

  Nora felt that she wanted to talk to him before he left for the race, so he would have time to digest it while he was away.

  Tonight. After dinner.

  That ought to be a good time.

  CHAPTER 60

  Call Marcus Björk at the ferry company, said the note on Thomas’s desk when he got back to the station after catching the eleven o’clock boat back to the mainland.

  I ought to get a season ticket for the Waxholmsbolaget ferries, he thought. It was such a nuisance keeping track of all the receipts that had to be handed in when he was claiming his expenses. Occasionally he managed to hitch a ride with the maritime police, but their schedule didn’t usually fit in with his, and they had fewer and fewer boats these days.