Third Voice

by Börjlind, Cilla

  Then Lisa Hedqvist rang, full of excitement.

  ‘Can we come over?’

  Half an hour later, Lisa and Bosse came through the door. Mette was still in her dressing gown.

  Lisa opened up her laptop.

  ‘This came half an hour ago. It’s a file from the French police.’

  ‘Fabre?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s an email attachment. Here.’

  Mette leant forward and read Fabre’s email. He and his colleagues had searched Mickey Leigh’s flat. Among the things they’d seized there was a special film. Fabre had uploaded the film onto a server and emailed them the password. He thought that the film would be of interest to Mette’s investigation.

  Lisa clicked on the downloaded film and pressed play.

  It was a porn film. Ineptly filmed in a cramped room. There were just two actors. They were engaged in BDSM sex.

  It was an extremely unpleasant film.

  The whole way through.

  The end was most unpleasant of all, when something went wrong during the ‘asphyxiation’, a key part of a BDSM session. The woman being strangled suddenly tried to free herself, she was about to suffocate, the straps around her neck were being pulled too tight. She screamed. The man tried to silence her. She got hold of a glass ashtray and hit the man in the face with it. The man went crazy. He grabbed the ashtray from her hand and hit her with it, several times, blood squirting from her face. He carried on hitting her until she sank down and lay completely still. Then he turned towards the camera and it went black.

  Lisa and Bosse had seen the film at police headquarters. They knew what it contained, but it came as a shock to Mette. She dropped down onto the chair just next to her.

  So that’s how it happened.

  How Mickey Leigh killed Samira Villon.

  She would make sure that Abbas never saw the film.

  ‘Did you hear the voices?’ Bosse asked.

  ‘Voices?’

  Mette had been totally focused on what was happening in the film. She hadn’t heard any voices.

  ‘No.’

  Bosse played the film again.

  Now she could hear the voices. In the background, a mix of Swedish and English voices, spurring on the sex act taking place in the bed, spurring the man on to do more and more depraved things to the woman.

  Mette felt sick.

  ‘Sahlmann and Borell?’ she said.

  ‘That’s a reasonable assumption,’ Lisa said. ‘Their voices must be audible through the webcam.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But there’s another one.’

  It was Bosse who said it. Mette looked at him.

  ‘Another one?’

  ‘There are three voices.’

  Mette hadn’t been thinking about the number of voices. She’d just heard them. The voices spurring on the man.

  ‘Three?’ she said.

  ‘Yes, you can hear them if you listen carefully. There were three men watching this.’

  So Mette was forced to endure the film once more. This time she closed her eyes, so that she could hear better, and she realised that Bosse was correct.

  There were three voices spurring on the act.

  Two of which probably belonged to Bengt Sahlmann and Jean Borell.

  * * *

  Magnus Thorhed was on his way to Arlanda airport in a taxi. He was going to the head office in London. Borell’s murder had sent shockwaves through the financial world; now it was a matter of keeping the empire together.

  Business as usual.

  He had all the necessary information about Albion’s plans in Sweden with him. Nothing would mess this up. The big contract with the City of Stockholm was virtually complete, it would not be affected by Borell’s death. Although he certainly was the figurehead in the organisation, there were others who could take over.

  Like Thorhed, for example.

  At least the Scandinavian division. He was just as au fait with the company’s operations in the Nordics as Borell had been, he knew it like the back of his hand. It was now a matter of convincing the board of directors. Of course, this had to be done without discrediting the recently deceased emperor.

  But he partly had himself to blame, Thorhed thought. Without knowing exactly what the motive had been, he was sure that it had been something to do with Borell’s weakness, a weakness that he knew about. But never understood. Borell had an impeccable social life, he was respected and appreciated and he had an enormous network throughout the financial world, yet still he had this weakness. That need to delve into really nasty pornography every now and again, as though it was the only thing that could titillate him on a deeply private level. Thorhed couldn’t get his head around it.

  But now Borell was dead and it was time to move on. Thorhed adjusted the mourning band on his arm. He liked to observe certain traditions.

  When he was dropped off at the international terminal, there was a journalist standing there. Someone he knew.

  Alex Popovic.

  ‘Hi! I called the office and I heard that you were on your way to London.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Thorhed proceeded towards the entrance with his wheeled suitcase. Alex followed him.

  ‘Shocking about Jean,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, absolutely.’

  ‘What’s going to happen now?’

  ‘Are you asking me personally or is this an interview?’

  ‘That particular question was not personal.’

  ‘I’m on my way to a board meeting in London. We’re going to assess the situation.’

  ‘So what do you think?’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Why he was killed. That’s a personal question.’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Could it have something to do with the murder of Bengt Sahlmann?’

  Thorhed controlled himself and looked at Alex.

  ‘Why would it?’

  ‘I don’t know. Haven’t the police asked you about that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why did you call Tomas Welander?’

  ‘When?’

  ‘The night that Bengt was murdered?’

  ‘I have to check in now. Bye.’

  Thorhed disappeared off into the departures hall.

  Alex popped some nicotine gum into his mouth.

  * * *

  Olivia parked just off Banérgatan and went to Welander’s front door. She’d been given the door code for the main entrance a short while ago. His flat was on the second floor and Welander opened the door as soon as she rang the bell. He was dressed in an elegant but worn dark smoking jacket.

  ‘Please excuse my attire, I’m in between a christening and a funeral, but we have half an hour. Come in!’

  Welander proceeded into a large, beautiful room and gestured towards the curved dark-green sofa. Olivia sat down.

  ‘So you wanted to talk about Sandra?’ Welander said and sat down in an armchair next to the round coffee table. ‘I do hope nothing’s happened?’

  ‘No, actually it’s not her I came to talk to you about.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. I received a call from Alex Popovic this morning. He told me that Magnus Thorhed called you the same night that Bengt Sahlmann was murdered. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes. But why would Alex call you to tell you about that?’

  ‘Because I’d asked him about Thorhed before.’

  ‘And why did you do that?’

  Olivia had been expecting that question, that they’d end up there. She knew that she’d have to explain certain things, otherwise she probably wouldn’t get Welander to talk. So she opted for the same approach as she had taken with Alex the first time.

  ‘Because I’m trying to find out who killed Sandra’s father.’

  ‘But you’re not a police officer, are you?’

  ‘No, not officially, although I have police training. But this is a purely personal matter. For Sandra.�
�

  ‘I understand. And why are you interested in Magnus Thorhed?’

  ‘For several reasons. He drives the same make of car that was seen at Bengt’s house the night he was murdered, for example.’

  ‘You think Thorhed might have something to do with the murder?’

  ‘I don’t know. I was hoping you might know more.’

  ‘Because of that phone call.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Welander looked at Olivia. He saw that she was serious about this, he had no reason to doubt her intentions. She wanted to help Sandra.

  ‘It was a very short conversation,’ he said. ‘All Thorhed said was that Bengt Sahlmann had hanged himself.’

  ‘How did he know that?’

  ‘I wondered that too, but he put the phone down before I had the chance to ask him.’

  ‘Why did he call to tell you that?’

  ‘He knew that I knew Bengt and that I’m a priest. Perhaps he just wanted to let me know?’

  ‘Or confess.’

  ‘He didn’t say that he killed Bengt.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Would you like some tea?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  Welander got up and left the room. Olivia tapped her feet on the ground, feeling wired. If Thorhed had called and said that Sahlmann had hanged himself, the same night that it happened, a simulated suicide, then he must have been there? The police hadn’t released any information about that.

  She was close to calling Mette.

  * * *

  Mette was just walking into police headquarters with Lisa and Bosse. She’d swapped her dressing gown for a black dress and left Mårten a note in the kitchen: ‘National Crime Squad. Emergency.’

  He’d just have to accept that.

  They went straight to the room where the two murder investigations were underway. There were a few older investigators sitting there. Mette briefly informed them about the film they’d received from France and how they could access it. She asked them to be extremely discreet about the contents. The important part, for the Swedish investigators, were the three voices.

  ‘They need to be identified. We’re guessing that two of them belong to Bengt Sahlmann and Jean Borell. We have no idea whose the third is. How shall we proceed?’

  ‘We’ll start by extracting a sound file from the film that will allow us just to hear the voices,’ Bosse said. ‘I’ll fix that.’

  He disappeared through the door with Lisa’s laptop.

  When it came to identifying Sahlmann’s voice, Mette most certainly did not want to drag in the people closest to him, his daughter and her aunt. They’d sort that out with Customs and Excise. Gabriella Forsman might oblige? She was being held in custody, after all.

  ‘What about Borell then?’ Lisa wondered. ‘Shall we contact his colleague?’

  ‘Magnus Thorhed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Mette did not respond straight away, due to a number of thoughts she’d had while in the car on the way in. About the things Olivia was looking into. Her interest in Magnus Thorhed. Just imagine if the third voice was his? There was a risk of that. Then it wouldn’t be particularly clever to ask him to listen to the sound file. She nodded at the door and walked towards it. Lisa followed her. Mette pulled the door closed and stood outside in the corridor. For some reason she didn’t want the entire investigation team knowing what Olivia was up to. A lay person who had absolutely nothing to do with their work.

  It was different with Lisa.

  Mette quickly explained why she didn’t want to contact Thorhed. Lisa understood.

  ‘But can she do it then?’ she said.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Olivia has met this Thorhed, hasn’t she?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, then, we can start with her? She might be able to hear whether it’s his voice on the recording? If it isn’t, then we can contact him?’

  Mette hadn’t thought of that. But she was on sick leave, she’d had a heart attack, she wasn’t on the ball. Olivia could identify Borell’s voice too!

  ‘Good, Lisa. I’ll call her as soon as we have the sound file.’

  * * *

  Welander poured Olivia a cup of tea from an extremely beautiful, blue teapot. She held the cup between her hands and had a sip. Welander sat down next to her on the sofa and poured himself a cup as well.

  ‘I was thinking about Sandra out there,’ he said. ‘She rang me yesterday and she sounded a bit more cheerful. Do you think so too?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think it’s pretty up and down.’

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose, mood swings are common at that age.’

  Mood swings, Olivia thought. She’d tried to commit suicide!

  ‘But you’re a great support to her,’ Welander said. ‘I can tell.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  Olivia looked down at the floor. She certainly was a great support to Sandra, for now. But that might not be enough. If she was forced to tell her what she needed to tell her. She felt the anxiety rising up inside her.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  Welander bent down a little and caught Olivia’s gaze.

  ‘You look a bit sad.’

  ‘I have a problem.’

  Olivia had not prepared herself for this situation, this wasn’t why she was here. Her anxiety over Sandra had been churning away inside her. There was no one she could share this with, no one she could talk to.

  Or was there?

  She looked at Welander, his eyes were gentle and steady. Maybe she could tell him? Get some guidance? He knew Sandra too.

  ‘Something’s happened that concerns Sandra,’ she said.

  ‘Something bad?’

  ‘Something that I’m not sure she can handle finding out about at the moment.’

  ‘Because she’s so fragile?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Does she need to be told, then?’

  ‘I don’t know. It may be unavoidable and then I would want her to hear it from me.’

  ‘It sounds serious. What’s happened?’

  Olivia wrung her hands. It really was serious. It was horrendous. And it would come out sooner or later, in one way or another, she was sure of that. Perhaps through the media, which would be worst of all.

  For everyone.

  Suddenly it struck her that Tomas Welander had known Bengt Sahlmann for ages. He was a friend. She hadn’t thought of that. She’d only been thinking about Sandra. What had happened would certainly shock Welander just as much as everyone else. When he found out.

  Now or later.

  ‘You are bound by an oath of secrecy, am I right?’ she finally said.

  ‘Yes, you can tell me whatever you like.’

  ‘Sandra’s father was watching online porn.’

  Welander looked at Olivia, rather quizzically.

  ‘Why did you have to tell me that?’

  ‘Because something happened while he was doing it.’

  ‘Watching pornography?’

  ‘He was watching a live session on a private webcam.’

  ‘I understand. That certainly is objectionable, though hardly criminal? It’s nothing that would involve the police? If that’s why you think you need to tell Sandra?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So?’

  Olivia clenched her hands, tightly, looking down at the floor when she finally said it, quietly.

  ‘A very brutal murder was committed during that session. I don’t know whether it will be made public, but there is a great risk that it will be once the preliminary investigation is complete.’

  ‘And then Sandra will find out?’

  ‘Well, it concerns her father.’

  ‘I understand. That is troubling.’

  Welander got up and started pacing in front of the coffee table. Olivia watched him. Had she said too much? But he’d be finding out about everything anyway. It was unavoidable that it would come out.

  Welander turned towards her.

  ‘I understan
d your dilemma, and I agree with you. The way Sandra is feeling now, it would be devastating if she found out about this.’

  ‘Yes. So what should I do?’

  Welander carried on pacing around in front of the table. Then he stopped.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But if you decide that you need to tell her, then we can do it together. If you think it might offer some support having me there.’

  ‘I don’t know. But thank you.’

  Then her mobile rang.

  It was Mette.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Olivia said.

  She got up and went over to the large windows. She knew how loud Mette’s voice could be and she didn’t want Welander to hear. It might be something about Sahlmann.

  It was.

  Among other things.

  Mette quickly explained that they needed help identifying a couple of male voices on a film depicting the murder of Samira Villon. The men had witnessed the murder. But she didn’t want to discuss any more details over the phone. So she played the first voice.

  ‘Do you recognise it?’ Mette said.

  ‘Yes, it’s Jean Borell’s voice.’

  ‘Good! Thanks!’

  Welander had sat down on the sofa and looked at Olivia. She was standing with her back to him, but her voice was clear, even though it was quiet. When she said ‘Jean Borell’ he got up.

  ‘Here’s the next voice!’

  Olivia pressed the phone against her ear to be able to hear properly, the sound quality wasn’t great. She hunched over the windowsill. Welander went towards the door.

  ‘Hello! Are you still there?’ Mette said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is it Magnus Thorhed?’

  ‘No. But I recognise the voice.’

  ‘So who is it, then?’

  ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  Olivia ended the call. She saw that her hand holding the phone was trembling. She stood still for a few seconds to regain composure.

  Tomas Welander.

  It was his voice.

  She felt her cheeks going red. She saw his face in front of her, his gentle eyes, his soft voice, how he’d been sitting there, lying straight to her face. Trying to mislead her. Completely. Playing on her feelings for Sandra and getting her to reveal deeply personal information.