Meet me in Malmö: The first Inspector Anita Sundström mystery (Inspector Anita Sundström mysteries)

by MacLeod, Torquil

  Moberg shoved his hands in his trouser pockets. ‘You ok? I mean, after yesterday. Not a nice position to be in. You could see the police shrink.’ Anita shook her head. ‘Get off home and put your feet up.’

  ‘Well, the case is solved, isn’t it?’

  Moberg shrugged his large shoulders. ‘Sort of.’

  Anita squinted into the low sun and shaded her eyes with her hand.

  ‘I thought—’

  ‘As there is so much riding on this case we can’t afford any slip-ups. So, I think while things are proceeding against Mednick, that we shouldn’t discount other routes. Henrik is pursuing the Säpo connection. I was wondering whether…’ He was having difficulty admitting any weakness in front of a female officer. He knew she was a good cop, but he didn’t like the thought of a woman standing up to him, questioning his decisions. He had managed to crush the challenges offered by his two ex-wives. He knew Anita Sundström was different. He found the physical attraction got in the way and he couldn’t view her as just another one of his detectives. The only way he could cope was usually to dismiss what she had to say or fight her off with sarcasm. But this wasn’t the time for either approach. He offered her a cigarette instead.

  ‘Trying to give them up.’

  Moberg eased out a cigarette, flipped it between two flabby lips and lit it. He didn’t speak until he’d exhaled the first plume of smoke.

  ‘Apart from Mednick, what thoughts have you got?’

  ‘I keep going back to Roslyn.’

  ‘And?’

  She breathed in the reassuring aroma of smoke and was tempted to ask for a cigarette but fought the impulse.

  ‘He lied to us about his whereabouts on the night of the murder. He didn’t attend the meeting he said he was at.’

  ‘Is that significant?’

  ‘Might be. I went and had a word with him.’

  ‘You…,’ Moberg bit back his rebuke. There she goes again, doing things without his say-so.

  ‘Want me to continue?’ He clamped the cigarette back in his mouth and nodded. ‘I asked him if he had an alibi. And he produced one.’

  ‘So that definitely puts him out of the picture.’

  ‘Yes. But his alibi raises another possibility. The alibi he was sleeping with happens to be the girlfriend of his business partner, Bengt Valquist. She’s called Tilda Tegner. Actress.’

  Moberg stopped, mid-puff. ‘Those thespian types seem to fuck like rabbits. When do they find time to act? This Valquist – he’s the “poodle”, right?’ Anita nodded. ‘Does he know his girlfriend’s cheating on him?’

  ‘We don’t know. If he did, then there might be a possible motive. Getting his own back on Roslyn?’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be more natural to go after his girlfriend or the lover?’

  ‘Maybe he loves Tilda Tegner too much to kill her. And he’s certainly in awe of Roslyn, who’s his mentor. Could it be his way of punishing Roslyn?’

  Moberg shook his head slowly. ‘Not totally convinced.’

  ‘There’s something else. When I was talking to the girl from Roslyn’s office in Stockholm, she said there was gossip that Malin wanted to get rid of him. If that was the case, Valquist had a lot to lose. Malin’s death would protect his position. And he was in Lund on the night. Just up the road.’

  Moberg leant against Anita’s car and she hoped it wouldn’t roll over.

  ‘That’s an interesting possibility. The affair thing raises another one, too. This actress. What do we know about her?’

  ‘She was in Roslyn’s last film. Sleeping her way up the ladder?’

  ‘If that’s so, then she might be a suspect, too? Getting rid of her rival?’

  ‘I thought you’d dismissed the possibility of a woman doing it.’

  Even Moberg had to laugh after he caught the mocking flicker of amusement in Anita’s eyes. ‘You know me. Always open-minded.’

  ‘It can’t be her, anyway. She was in Stockholm enjoying a night of bliss in the arms of our dirty director. Should I follow up Valquist?’

  ‘You were going to anyway, weren’t you?’ Moberg dropped his cigarette. ‘Keep me informed. Find anything and I’m the first to know.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Moberg gave her sceptical glance as he eased himself away from the car. It was undented.

  ‘I saw your British journalist at the press conference. Surprised he’s still about.’

  ‘Ewan’s covering the story for his newspaper.’

  ‘Ewan?’ Moberg’s eyebrows arched. Anita couldn’t believe that a hint of a blush appeared on her cheeks. Why? There was nothing in it. She didn’t even fancy the man. ‘Rule of thumb, Anita, never trust a journalist.’

  ‘He might still be useful. He knows something about Roslyn that he’s not telling us.’

  Moberg could see that Anita hesitated. ‘And what else?’

  ‘Something nagging. It comes back to the so-called friends. When Roslyn discovered Malin’s body in the living room he attacked Strachan and the photographer had to pull him off.’

  ‘Only natural. There’s someone bending over your dead wife.’

  ‘Even in that instant, Roslyn must have realized that it was his old university friend there because he’d asked him to come. Roslyn wouldn’t seriously expect him to kill his wife and then hang around. He’s got no motive anyway. What sparked his overreaction?’

  ‘It’s almost as though he assumed Strachan had killed her,’ said Moberg slowly.

  ‘Exactly. Or maybe it was a way of covering up the fact that he already knew she was dead.’

  ‘A bit fanciful. Let’s stick to the real world.’ The sarcasm had returned.

  As Moberg made his way back to the main building he had his mobile in his hand.

  ‘Westermark. I need you to look into something.’

  CHAPTER 22

  Mick was anxious to speak to someone of a senior rank when Nordlund entered the room. Though the safe house had been at his own instigation, being confined in some peasant farmhouse was not his idea of being incognito. At least they could have given him a hotel suite. Were the police trying to save money? And he hadn’t been able to contact anyone because the police said that any call might be traced, particularly if he used his mobile. He wanted to speak to Tilda, to warn her that he had been forced to spill the beans about their last night together on Monday. He just hoped she wouldn’t be fazed, that she would stick to their agreed story.

  The man who came in was in his early sixties, bald on top, with what little hair he had left almost totally grey. His presence wasn’t threatening like that of Chief Inspector Moberg, nor had he any of the suppressed hostility that seeped out of every pore of Inspector Sundström. Yet, behind the sad expression and deeply sunken eyes, this man was someone he had to be wary of. He was of the age of someone who might have had Säpo connections from the 1980s.

  The man could have been reading his thoughts. ‘I voted against the euro and I dislike the EU, but don’t worry, I’m not a neo-Nazi sympathizer.’ Before a startled Mick could answer, Nordlund continued courteously in Swedish, ‘How are you bearing up, herr Roslyn?’ Nordlund’s English was too poor to tackle this particular conversation.

  ‘I don’t like it here.’ Mick was on his fourth beer of the afternoon.

  ‘It’s probably best you stay put.’

  Mick held out his right hand, which was clutching the Carlsberg Export. ‘This guy you’ve arrested. All they said was that he has a military background.’

  ‘That’s correct,’ said Nordlund, who sat down on the sofa while Mick prowled about the room.

  ‘Anything to do with Säpo?’

  By not answering the question he let Mick jump to his own conclusions.

  ‘It’s about Säpo that I am here.’ He put down a file on the plain wooden coffee table in front of him. ‘I have here the photographs of a number of Såpo operatives at the time of the Palme murder. I would like you to go through them carefully and see if your “Deep Throat” chara
cter is among them, or “Henrik Larsson” as I believe he called himself.’

  Mick came and sat down in the chair opposite, placed his bottle carefully on the table and flicked open the manila file. There were fifteen photographs for him to go through. He took each one in turn and scrutinized it carefully, screwing up his eyes as he did so.

  Nordlund watched to see if there was any sign of recognition. ‘Remember, these were taken over twenty years ago, so your man may have changed quite a lot. Balder, greyer, fatter.’

  Mick’s gaze never left the photos. Two of them attracted his attention for longer than the rest. Only when he had gone through them did he speak. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Try again, sir. There were two that you took your time over. What about them?’

  Mick took a swig from his bottle before extracting two of the photos from the pile. He laid them side by side in front of him. He must have spent a good two minutes examining them before pushing one aside and staring fixedly at the remaining image. Then he tapped the photo with his index finger lightly. Then the tapping became more forceful. ‘I think this could be him. His hair is very grey now, but he has a look of “Deep Throat”. I think it’s the nose. The shape of the mouth as well.’

  ‘Sure?’

  Mick nodded his head vigorously. ‘As sure as I can be, given the period of time that’s elapsed.’

  Nordlund lent over and picked up the photo. He turned it over to check the back. He had numbered each image beforehand – this one was 5. He took out a piece of paper, which had names to correspond with the numbers. Andreas Tapper.

  ‘Thank you very much. We’ll check this man out.’

  ‘What’s his real name?’

  ‘Can’t tell you that at the moment. But we’ll find him.’

  ‘It’s his old colleagues I’m more worried about.’

  ‘Brilliant! I love it.’

  Ewan had never heard Brian praise anything he had written before. He was rather chuffed.

  ‘I’ve had a word with upstairs and they’re going to run it across all the group’s flagship papers. I’ve got some great shots of the Malin woman. It’s putting some noses out of joint, I can tell you,’ Brian said with undisguised relish.

  ‘I’m not sure how much further I can take the story once they’ve made official charges. Then the process will take months before it hits the courts, if their system is anything like ours.’

  ‘Oh.’ Brian sounded disappointed. ‘Any chance of a Roslyn interview?’‘Don’t know where he is. Police hid him away when they thought there was a secret service connection.’

  ‘Surely he’ll appear now?’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest.’

  ‘Get onto that policewoman of yours. She sounds fantastic. Any chance of getting a photo of her? Sexy Swedish cop sounds even more of a turn-on than a sexy Swedish film star.’

  Ewan realized he had gone a bit over the top with Anita’s description in his piece. ‘Best to leave it to the readers’ imaginations. As for Mick Roslyn, I doubt if he’ll want to talk publicly just yet.’

  ‘He’s in the entertainment business, for fuck’s sake. They all want to talk. Normally you can’t shut them up. First interview with heartbroken star’s husband. I can make a real splash with that.’

  Now the first person plural had turned into I, Ewan noticed. ‘Even if I can find Mick and he agrees to talk to me, he might want paying.’

  There was silence at the other end of the line. ‘Well, see what you can do.’ That meant that there was no money available for an interview.

  ‘How long are you giving me?’

  There was another pause. ‘If you can’t get him over the weekend then you’d better come back on Monday. Don’t want you running up mountainous expenses. I know how expensive Scandinavia is.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get another piece out of what we’ve got even if Mick proves elusive.’

  By the time Anita had requisitioned a police car to drive to Lund, the sun was going down. It would be dark soon. She sat in silence while Olander drove. It was a short twenty kilometre drive straight along the E22. She was relieved that at least Moberg was investigating other options. She was now convinced that Mednick wasn’t their culprit, despite running into a hassled Eva Thulin before leaving the polishus. She had just been ordered by Moberg to re-do the whole of Malin Lovgren’s apartment.

  ‘I don’t know what he’s trying to prove,’ Thulin said in exasperation.

  ‘He’s trying to prove he’s right.’ Anita smiled.

  ‘Men!’

  ‘Just think of the overtime. Oh, by the way, have you checked the Lotta Lind pendant for fingerprints?’

  ‘Yes. Strange actually. It had Halvar Mednick’s prints all over it, but no others. Not even Malin Lovgren’s.’

  ‘So someone must have wiped the pendant clean after the murder and before Mednick picked it up.’

  The light was fading fast by the time they got into Lund. Anita had little difficulty directing Olander to the house, as it was not far from the main university buildings. The door was answered by Valquist’s mother, a tall woman with a gaunt face below dyed-blond hair scraped back in a severe bun. She was alarmed at first when she discovered that Anita was from the police, but when it was explained that it was only routine enquiries she relaxed. Bengt had had to fly up to Stockholm. Something urgent. But he would be back tomorrow lunchtime. Before leaving, Anita asked whether she knew the whereabouts of Tilda Tegner.

  Anita got back into the car.

  ‘No luck?’ asked Olander.

  ‘He’s in Stockholm. Back tomorrow.’

  ‘Back to Malmö?’

  ‘No. We’ll wait here. Tilda Tegner should be turning up soon. She’s been in Malmö doing a voice-over for a commercial. She’ll be walking back from the station. Fru Valquist invited us in to wait, but I want to talk to Tegner with no one else around. So, you can pop out and get us a coffee.’

  Olander waited patiently as she dived into her bag to find some kronor. On his return, Anita sipped at the coffee, which was as plastic as the container. But it was hot and the evening was now cold.

  ‘Could Bengt Valquist really be our killer?’ Olander asked.

  ‘I have no idea. But he’s got a couple of potential motives. Malin getting rid of him. That might have finished his career. And then there’s his business partner doing the business with his girlfriend.’ She took another sip of coffee. ‘As our resident movie expert, what do you know about Tilda Tegner?’

  ‘Good-looking lady. She played the husband’s lover in En Gäss. Not a big part, but she was ok. That’s the second film she’s done for Roslyn. The first was just a walk-on part.’

  ‘Maybe she’ll get a lead role in Roslyn’s next film after this.’

  Olander put his coffee on the dashboard. ‘I think that’s her, Inspector.’

  Anita could see a tall, slim woman walking along the street in their direction. She had on a blue woolly hat and plaid coat pulled tightly round her. When she got closer, Anita got out of the car.

  ‘Fröken Tegner?’

  Tegner pulled up in surprise. ‘Yes.’

  Anita produced her warrant card. ‘Inspector Anita Sundström. We’d like a word.’

  Panic flitted across Tegner’s beautiful face. ‘What about?’

  ‘If you get in the car I’ll tell you,’ said Anita, opening the vehicle’s back door.

  Tegner looked about nervously. ‘Why don’t we go inside?’

  ‘I don’t think you’ll want the Valquists to overhear this conversation.’

  Tegner meekly slipped into the back seat and Anita got in beside her. Tegner kept her hat on and it was difficult to see her face clearly in the darkened car. Maybe that would make it easier for her talk, Anita hoped.

  ‘How well do you know Mick Roslyn?’

  ‘Is this to do with Malin’s murder?’

  ‘Just answer the question, please.’

  ‘Of course I know him. I’ve appeared in two of his films.
He is Bengt’s boss and business associate.’

  ‘And Bengt Valquist is your partner?’

  ‘Yes, of course he is.’ It was either bluster or growing confidence.

  ‘So he doesn’t know about you and Roslyn?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ There wasn’t enough light for Anita to register Tegner’s facial expression.

  ‘Oh, I think you do, fröken Tegner. Where were you last Monday night, for example?’

  Tegner didn’t answer straight away. The pause was too long. ‘In Stockholm.’

  ‘And what did you do?’

  ‘Nothing much. I had been here in Lund with Bengt and then drove north. I was tired when I got back to my apartment.’

  ‘Not so tired that you spent the night with Rolsyn.’

  She tried anger. ‘What makes you think I was with Mick.’

  ‘Because he told me so.’

  The instant intake of breath made her sound as though she had been slapped in the stomach. She didn’t say anything.

  ‘Are you denying it?’

  Tegner’s head slumped. ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘How long has this been going on?’

  Tegner didn’t look up. ‘A couple of months.’ The words were barely audible.

  ‘What I want to know, fröken Tegner, is this – do you think herr Valquist knows about your liaison?’

  Tegner tugged nervously at her gloves with her teeth.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Oh, God, I hope not. I didn’t mean…’ She started to sob. Anita let her cry gently until she stopped. She wiped her eyes with her gloves. ‘Why are you asking me this? What has this to do with Malin?’

  ‘You’ve given Roslyn an alibi.’

  Tegner turned to Anita for the first time. ‘Why does he need an alibi? Surely you can’t think—’

  ‘We have to check everything.’

  ‘Are you going to tell Bengt?’ The worry had returned to her voice.

  ‘That’s all.’ Anita got out of the car and held it open for Tegner. Despite the situation, Anita noticed that Tegner eased herself out of the car elegantly. The trained actress. ‘By the way, do you work out? The gym, martial arts, that sort of thing?’