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

by MacLeod, Torquil

  Half an hour later, Nordlund came into her office. ‘Erik’s got the arrest warrant. You, me and Westermark are to go with him to fru Lovgren’s.’

  ‘Isn’t that rather heavy-handed?’

  ‘He’s not taking any chances after last time,’ he said pointedly. Anita half-blushed at the thought of the fiasco of Mednick’s arrest.

  ‘Ok.’

  ‘And Anita, bring a gun this time.’

  CHAPTER 35

  Once Ewan had gone past the university education department building, and headed directly towards the Turning Torso, the full blast of the icy wind hit him. It was an effort to walk upright. The cold was as raw and uncompromising as the surroundings of Stora Varvsgatan, which he was now walking down. The Turning Torso might represent the new Malmö but there were still reminders that this had been the industrial heart of the city. To his left were the remains of the Kockums works, with its large spaces and box cranes, and to the right a more modern Kockums office block. The solid Malmö Mässen exhibition centre and the squat Maxi ICA hypermarket beyond certainly weren’t examples of Swedish space-age designer cool. But the towering Turning Torso, just behind, definitely was.

  He rounded the hypermarket and there the tower reached up to the gloomy sky – a futuristic rocket ready for take-off. On one side of the building, white girders criss-crossed their way from top to bottom, while each of the nine white cubes, stacked one on top of the other at jaunty angles, meant that the windows were crazily aligned. On reaching the tower, Ewan found it was completely surrounded by a man-made water feature, with access to the entrance provided by a walkway into the circular glass portico. There was no denying that this was an audacious piece of design. Before its completion many had thought it merely foolhardy. Ewan entered the building and walked past typically Scandinavian light wooden panelling, which surrounded the building’s circular core on the ground floor. He approached the reception desk and asked for Daniel, Anita’s contact.

  The two cars parked opposite Beijers Park, a few houses beyond Britta Lovgren’s house. Moberg and Anita got out of one and Nordlund and Westermark emerged from the other. They gathered round the protective bulk of the Chief Inspector.

  ‘I don’t expect him to put up a fight, but we have to be sure he doesn’t try and bolt. Westermark, you go round the back.’ Westermark nodded, though Anita couldn’t help noticing how edgy he appeared.

  As they approached the front door from the street Westermark slipped round the side of the house. Moberg rang the door bell. He looked sharply at Anita. ‘I’m handling this, so I’ll do the talking.’

  After a few moments, the door was answered by Britta Lovgren, who was taken aback to see three officers on her doorstep. She patted her immaculately groomed hair in a nervous gesture.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, fru Lovgren,’ said Moberg. ‘We need to speak to your son-in-law.’

  ‘Mick? But he’s not here.’

  Moberg flinched. ‘Do you know where he is?’ There was more urgency in his voice.

  ‘I don’t know. He got a call on his mobile and left in a hurry. Why—’

  Moberg didn’t let her finish. ‘How long ago?’

  ‘Oh, less than an hour ago. He seemed very upset.’

  ‘Do you know who the call was from?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. He muttered something about having to get someone?’

  ‘”Get someone”? To fetch someone?’

  ‘What else could it mean?’

  Just then Westermark appeared behind Britta Lovgren. She was startled by his sudden presence. Moberg didn’t stop to explain as he turned away and stalked off to the gate, leaving the unnerved and bewildered woman. The other three followed.

  ‘He’s buggered off,’ snapped Moberg, bringing Westermark up to speed. ‘We don’t want the bastard disappearing.’

  ‘He might be coming back with someone,’ suggested Nordlund.

  Anita noticed Westermark shuffling his feet and looking distracted. The body language was evasive. ‘Has he been tipped off?’ she wondered aloud.

  Westermark’s head jolted up. Anita could see that her instincts were right. It was enough to alert Moberg, who fixed Westermark with one of his trademark glares. ‘Well?’

  Westermark gulped. ‘I rang him.’

  Moberg grabbed the lapels of his leather jacket and virtually hoisted him off the ground. ‘You fucking imbecile,’ he yelled in his face. ‘What did you do that for?’

  Westermark could hardly spit the words out. ‘I thought he was innocent.’

  Moberg threw him backwards and he ended up on his backside on the pavement. ‘Now we’ve got to fucking find him! Christ, he could be anywhere.’

  ‘I don’t think so. When he said he was going to “get someone” he wasn’t going to pick them up.’ Anita spoke with a persuasive certainty. ‘I think he’s going to settle a score. Thanks to Karl’s call, he knows it’s all up. So, he’s going to get the guy who he tried to set up for Malin’s murder.’

  ‘Strachan?’

  She felt panic rising. ‘Yeah. He’s nothing to lose and he wants to take his old rival with him. He would have had time to get to the polishus as Ewan was leaving the building.’

  ‘Do you know where Strachan was going?’

  ‘Yes. The Torso.’

  Daniel had been very chatty. He had filled Ewan in on numerous facts and figures about the tower, none of which Ewan could remember, except that the Torso moved up to ten metres in the wind and some of the residents had complained of seasickness. The inside of the tower struck Ewan as part spacecraft, part lighthouse. Daniel had even taken him into one of the futuristic conference rooms on the fifty-third floor. Ewan wondered how anybody could concentrate with such staggering views out of the windows. Eventually, Daniel had shown Ewan how to reach the top of the tower, where normally nobody was allowed to go other than maintenance staff and the man mad enough to go out and clean the building’s 2,500 slanting windows. ‘But as a friend of Anita’s, then I make this the exception, no?’ said the grinning Daniel with a confidential wink. He had been so effusive about Anita that Ewan wondered what the nature of their relationship was. Was he getting jealous again?

  All was forgotten when he stepped through the white metal door and stood at the top of Scandinavia’s tallest structure. He had emerged from the central core of the building, which up on the roof was circular, resembling a new, uncut Stilton cheese. Running round the roof was a kind of elevated monorail track, which came up to his waist. Daniel explained that this was for the cleaning cradle, which was moved round the roof until positioned above the side of the tower that needed attention. As none of the sides of the building were straight, the workman guided his cradle carefully into the required position before getting out his squeegee. Ewan assumed that the only applicants for the job came from the local lunatic asylum.

  The wind whistled round the tower, so Ewan didn’t venture near the edge. Having escaped prison and a murder charge, he didn’t want to spoil things by being blown off the top of the tallest building in Sweden. Despite the greyness all around, the view was still breathtaking. Malmö was laid out way below. He could make out the main landmarks like the castle and the big churches. Despite all he had been through, it was a city that he was growing fond of. A city of parks and cyclists. A city of contrasts - a place that was growing more cosmopolitan yet where Netto wasn’t considered an embarrassing shopping experience. Over the expanse of water he could see Copenhagen, which he promised himself he would visit next time. What really caught his eye was the perfect symmetry of the Öresund Bridge. Its incredible length made him appreciate what an engineering marvel it was. A large tanker was ploughing its way towards it. This was the gateway to the Baltic.

  What was most exciting of all was that he was free, out of the cell that had trapped him for three days. Out here nothing could imprison him. He had fought endless battles to keep his sanity and it was the recurring image of Anita that had saved him from totally losing control in that confined spac
e. Up here, the wind was blowing away the fears that had taunted him, hour after hour, in that locked room. And now the police thought it was Mick who had killed Malin. That really was a turn up for the old book. The bastard deserved to be locked up. It served him right for what he had destroyed all those years ago in Durham.

  Ewan took out his packet of cigarettes. Despite his best efforts he couldn’t compete with the wind and he replaced the unsmoked cigarette. As he did so he noticed the door open. From the flash of yellow maintenance jacket he assumed it must be the window cleaner. Ewan turned his attention back to the view. Up here he could appreciate all the green areas given over to the parks. Why couldn’t they do that in Britain? Any public space was immediately built on by some avaricious developer with the connivance of weak and moribund local councils.

  Ewan couldn’t see the man who had come through the door a few moments before. He must have gone round the other side of the roof. It was now becoming blustery and he decided to go back down and then find himself a cosy bar.

  ‘You fucking shit!’

  Ewan spun round. Standing in front of him was a wild-eyed Mick.

  Moberg pressed his huge hand on the horn on the steering wheel. The driver in front panicked and slammed on his brakes. Cursing, Moberg violently manoeuvred the car round the vehicle and jumped the red light, narrowly missing a taxi coming from the road on the right. Aggressive finger gestures were exchanged but nothing was going to stop the chief inspector. In a country of careful drivers, this was like a scene from Starsky and Hutch bursting onto their streets. Westermark’s car was hot on their heels as they raced past the station, then the central post office. Alarmed pedestrians rushed back off zebra crossings that they thought had been safe to negotiate.

  Anita clung on to the doorhandle as she endured this white-knuckle ride. What her dominant fear was she couldn’t decide - the lunatic driving of her boss or the worry that Roslyn had caught up with Ewan. She knew that she didn’t want Ewan to be harmed. That bloody idiot Westermark! What had he thought he was playing at? He might have Ewan’s death on his hands. Roslyn had already killed his wife. He could possibly have killed Debbie Usher twenty-five years ago, too. Moberg wrenched the car left onto Stora Varvsgatan and they had a clear run to the end by the ICA supermarket. Moberg rammed his foot down and the car nearly became airborne.

  They were circling each other like two cagey boxers, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Mick hadn’t said a word after his first outburst, but his intention was clear. There was nothing left to be said. They knew why they were up there together. Ewan had opened his mouth to reason with Mick but promptly shut it. He knew it would be a waste of time. It was too late for that. Ewan weighed up his options. He could try and make a dart for the door, but that exit would be quickly cut off by Mick. When Mick pounced on him he knew that he would have the advantage of bulk, but that it would mean little as he was so out of condition. He could see that Mick worked out.

  Despite the chill, sweat was running down his back. His mouth was dry. He was truly frightened. Mick was crazed. God, was it all going to end here? In sheer panic, he rushed at Mick and grabbed him round the waist and flung him to the ground. They crashed down together. Mick was temporarily winded as he was underneath. Ewan tried to get up before Mick recovered. Then he might make the door and the safety of the stairs. The tower was such a warren he might be able to lose him. He staggered to his feet and tried to dash towards the door. He had nearly made it when Mick’s arms whipped round his neck and shoulders and he found himself being dragged backwards. He gagged as the crook of Mick’s right arm pulled tight on his throat. He flayed with his elbows but he couldn’t loosen the vicelike grip. He hadn’t the strength or the stamina to stop Mick yanking him away from the doorway. The sky swirled in front of his eyes. He tried to scream. Could anybody hear him? Not in this wind. He was trying to make it as hard as possible for Mick, yet he knew that he was being hauled closer and closer to the edge of the tower.

  They rushed into the building, Anita a few feet in front of the panting Moberg. Daniel was in the reception area and smiled as he saw her, though his grin froze when he saw her running. ‘Your English friend—’

  ‘Where is he?’ she shouted.

  Startled, all he could do was point upwards with a finger. ‘The roof.’

  Without a word of explanation, Anita rushed to the lift door and rammed her finger against the ascend button. A light flickered on to show the lift was coming down from the eighteeth floor. She swore. Moberg lumbered in.

  Daniel was about to ask what on earth was happening when he saw Anita pull out her gun. The question never materialized.

  The lift arrived. The wooden door swished open smoothly and a young professional couple got the fright of their lives when they were met by a woman brandishing a gun. Anita unceremoniously yanked them out of the lift and she and Moberg got in. The terrified couple watched as the lift doors swished back and the woman with the gun and the huge man with her disappeared. Before they could speak, another two men rushed into the building. The place had gone mad.

  They stumbled back into the first piece of window cradle track. Mick had to loosen his grip and Ewan managed to prise away the arm around his windpipe. It was only a momentary respite, as Mick heaved him over the monorail, crushing Ewan’s ribs in the process. Ewan summoned up all the strength he had left and managed to halt for a few seconds their inexorable progress towards the edge of the building by clinging onto the track top. Ewan was even able to twist slightly so that he was side-on to Mick, so that he couldn’t be dragged. It was the wrong choice, as Mick’s now free fist smashed into the side of his head. The pain was shattering. He stood reeling, desperately trying to hang on to some semblance of thought. It was hopeless. His head was spinning. The second blow knocked him to his knees. He felt sick. He couldn’t fight this any longer. His head was pounding so much that he couldn’t reason. All he could think about was that he wanted this all to end.

  The will to fight was seeping away. As if in a dream, Ewan was conscious that he was being pulled towards the second piece of track. He twisted again and Mick dropped him. He landed on the ground and lay there. For a second, it was a place of rest and blessed relief until Mick violently hauled him up again. Now Mick had got him to the track, which was next to the lip of the tower. Malmö was swirling in front of him. It was so far below. Suddenly he could hear his own voice, though it sounded as though it was coming from a distance. ‘Please, Mick, please.’

  Mick grabbed a clump of his hair in his hand. It hurt. ‘Now you can join Debbie,’ Mick shouted in his ear. Ewan’s head was roughly thrust forward. Malmö seemed even closer now. He realized that he was half hanging over the edge. The tips of his toes were still on the ground, his stomach pressed against the top of the metal track and the upper half of his body was dangling over absolutely nothing. Bizarrely, despite all the pain and the terror, he noticed a yellow car driving towards the tower.

  Ewan made one last desperate effort to push himself away from the edge, but Mick’s grip was too strong.

  ‘Let go of him!’ someone shouted. Ewan wasn’t sure it was even in English. The yellow car had gone.

  ‘Too late!’ he heard Mick bellow just behind him. Ewan could feel Mick’s muscles tense as he was about to give him the final push and send him spinning into oblivion.

  And then everything slowed down. The explosion behind him was muffled; the wetness that splattered across the back of his head seemed to come in separately defined slaps of moisture, and the hands freed their grip on him ever so sluggishly. He nearly went over but must have caught something to stop his fall. It was so strange to see Mick passing him in slow motion, the top of his head bloodied and blown away, before he seemed to do an elegant somersault in mid-air and cartwheeled all the way down and down. The last thing Ewan remembered was the faint sound of a splash.

  CHAPTER 36

  Anita squinted at the mirror and took her time to apply the lipstick. She didn’
t do it very often, so wasn’t practised at it. In fact, she wasn’t that good at tarting herself up. It wasn’t that she wasn’t vain. She was at times. Normally, she couldn’t be arsed. She never bothered for work and her desert of a social life meant that she hadn’t been required to make an effort for some time. For years she had relied on her natural looks to carry her through, but that was changing. She couldn’t stop age creeping up on her and playing cruel tricks on a face and body that had served her well for so long. She stood back and admired the effect. Not bad, Sundström, not bad.

  She had to admit she was excited about this evening. It was Ewan’s last in Sweden. She wanted to make it memorable for him. She still felt guilty about locking him up, though he had been seriously grateful to her for saving his life on the roof of the Turning Torso. That had been a week ago and she still shook when she thought about it. If she had arrived a second or so later, Ewan would have been thrown off the top. She had followed procedure and had shouted a warning to Roslyn, but he wasn’t going to stop. Fortunately, Moberg had reached the roof just in time to see what happened so she had a witness to her actions. She had never shot anyone before and she prayed she would never have to do so again. It was a sickening thing to do. Was it duty or love that had made her pull the trigger? She didn’t know. Moberg had commended her to Commissioner Dahlbeck for the promptness of her decision-making. Sweden had been shocked and fascinated in equal measure by the whole story, though there was collective relief that the murder had not been carried out by one of their own but by a foreigner, even if he had become an adopted son. Everybody in officialdom was pleased that the case had been wrapped up relatively quickly and that they had avoided an expensive public trial into the bargain. The only person to come out of the investigation badly was Westermark. He had been suspended for his role in warning Roslyn and an internal inquiry was to be set up.