The Ninth Grave

by Stefan Ahnhem

  She shouldn’t have had her phone out, much less had it turned on, even if it was on silent. And she knew that under no circumstances should she answer. Yet she went to pick it up.

  ‘Dunja, perhaps you should put that away now,’ Sleizner hissed with an irritated expression. Dunja refused the call and set down the phone.

  ‘Sorry. Where were we?’

  ‘The connection between the Swedish case in Rydebäck and the Karen Neuman case in Tibberup.’

  ‘Right.’

  The phone vibrated again. This time it was a text message: Willumsen has struck again. Call as soon as you can.

  ‘Dunja. What are you doing?’ Sleizner now looked really stressed.

  Dunja read the message over again, and met Sleizner’s perplexed look. ‘He’s struck again. You’ll have to take over from here. I have work to do.’ She got up and stepped down from the stage.

  ‘I see,’ said Sleizner, throwing out his hands. ‘Unfortunately it looks as if you’ll have to put up with me again. Where were we?’

  Dunja dialled Klippan’s number and left the room.

  ‘Hi, Dunja.’ Dunja could hear that Klippan was starting the engine of a car.

  ‘Have you found a new victim?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘Is it a Swede this time?’ She continued towards the elevators and passed a TV that was playing the ongoing press conference without sound.

  ‘No, she’s a Danish woman. Her name is Katja Skov. Maybe you’ve heard of her father, Ib Skov?’

  ‘Yes, he’s one of our biggest businessmen.’ Dunja tried turning up the sound on the TV. ‘I still don’t know if I quite get what’s going on,’ she continued, failing to locate the right button and abandoning her attempt to hear the TV briefing in frustration.

  ‘As I understand it, she had some sort of gathering or party in their house in Snekkersten. Early in the morning she and some of her friends took a taxi to Helsingør where they boarded the ferry to keep partying. You know, drink alcohol and ride back and forth any number of times on a single ticket.’

  ‘I thought Swedes were the only people that did that.’

  ‘That’s what I thought, but evidently they also did it. There was quite a lot of drinking, and suddenly they realized that Katja Skov was missing.’

  ‘And you’re sure she’s not just passed out in a lifeboat or something like that?’

  ‘Personnel have searched the ferry twice. As soon as I heard about it, I contacted the guy at Scandlines – what’s his name again?’

  ‘Yes, I know who you mean.’

  ‘I asked him to check the surveillance videos, and just as I’d suspected he’d been there with the same car again.’

  ‘You mean Aksel Neuman’s BMW with the Danish licence plate?’

  ‘Exactly. He reportedly drove off the ferry in Helsingborg exactly twenty-two minutes past twelve today.’

  Dunja looked at the clock. That was not much more than two hours ago – an eternity in these circumstances, but considerably better than nothing. ‘Klippan, what do you think about me coming over to Sweden and us working on this together?’

  ‘That’s what I wanted to suggest. Call me as soon as you know what time you’ll be arriving in Helsingborg and I’ll see about picking you up at the station.’

  They ended the call. Dunja took a few deep breaths in an attempt to lower her heart rate, but it was pointless. Her adrenaline was pumping as if she’d just thrown herself into a ravine with a thick rubber band around her ankles.

  She looked over at the TV and watched Sleizner end the press conference and leave the stage. Considering how much he loved being the centre of attention, he looked unusually tense, which could only mean one thing – he was furious.

  In a way she could understand it, but on the other hand, she didn’t care.

  41

  ‘HI, MATILDA. WHAT’S ON your mind?’ inquired Fabian on his way through the corridor towards the meeting room.

  ‘When are you coming home? I’ve called Mum a bunch of times, but she’s not answering.’

  ‘She’s at the studio, and I’m sure she has her phone turned off. Isn’t Rebecka with you?’

  ‘Yeah, but I don’t like her very much. She’s always out on the balcony talking on the phone and smoking. I want you to come home now.’

  ‘But, pumpkin, you know that isn’t going to happen right now. It’s only one thirty and I have to work for a few more hours. But once I finish, I promise to come straight home, so we can watch TV and have a cosy Friday night. Does that sound good?’

  There was no answer, but he could hear the babysitter asking Matilda if she wanted to play The Missing Diamond.

  ‘Okay, Dad, see you later.’ There was a click in Fabian’s ear before he had time to respond, so he put the phone into his pocket and continued to the meeting room.

  Tomas, Jarmo and Malin were already waiting. They were only missing Herman Edelman. The mood around the table was almost exhilarated. Fresh coffee was ready in a thermos and a tin of cookies was just waiting to be opened and passed around. Everyone would allow themselves one or two extra calorie bombs, but not yet.

  In accordance with tradition, Edelman would arrive with a tray full of food and praise them all for their work that had led to the apprehension of yet another perpetrator. Then he would serve them each a shot and let them help themselves to his dishes, which over time everyone had learned to love: Finn Crisps with Kalle’s caviar and finely chopped red onion.

  ‘We also have to congratulate Tomas on acing that first shot with his six-shooter,’ said Jarmo, imitating a little pistol with his fingers.

  ‘You have to agree that it was nicely done. We’re talking about fifteen metres in pitch-black after all,’ said Tomas.

  ‘Luck,’ said Jarmo, sipping his coffee.

  ‘Luck? I could do it again with a blindfold on.’

  ‘Then you’d be even more lucky. Besides, you forgot to fire a warning shot.’

  ‘You don’t think I wanted to give him the opportunity to surrender? I got to bring that bastard down. Boom – right in the thigh! That’s more than you’ve done your whole career.’ Tomas patted Jarmo on the shoulder.

  ‘You haven’t started without me, have you?’

  Everyone turned towards Edelman. He set down an overfilled tray of food in the middle of the table and they started applauding. Schnapps glasses were distributed and the frosty O.P. Anderson bottle was passed around.

  ‘And what am I supposed to drink?’ asked Malin.

  ‘Lemon water or light beer,’ said Edelman while he unscrewed the little red plastic cap from the tube of caviar and pressed a hole in the protective foil with the star-shaped tip. ‘Or you can have a little one and pretend you’re in Denmark again.’

  Everyone laughed and helped themselves to the Finn Crisp–caviar sandwiches and then dipped them into the finely chopped red onion. Fabian took a bite, enjoying the strong taste of onion mixed with the saltiness of the caviar and the hard bread. It was really good, and today he couldn’t understand why he’d initially been so sceptical.

  After everyone had taken a few bites, Edelman wiped off his beard and raised his schnapps glass. ‘I just want to take the opportunity to congratulate you all on an amazing job. Not only have we arrested the perpetrator, you’ve spared me lots of press conferences by doing it in record time!’

  They threw back their drinks and Edelman passed the bottle around for a second round. ‘Just so you know, Ossian Kremph was my first thought once I heard about what happened to Grimås.’

  Fabian and the others exchanged glances.

  ‘It’s true, but I didn’t say anything,’ Edelman continued while he prepared another open-faced sandwich. ‘Because I was convinced that it couldn’t actually be him. I thought he was being kept away from the general public for ever. It didn’t even occur to me that he might have served his sentence and was at large. Ossian Kremph was not only an unusually smart, studied perpetrator, but he was without a doubt the col
dest offender I’ve encountered in all my years here; so cold that without blinking he tore the eyes out of his own defence attorney when he sensed the direction things were heading. And they let him out after only thirteen years.’ Edelman shook his head and emptied the glass in one go. ‘However, there are still a number of loose ends, and before we take off for Christmas and buy lingerie for our wives, we have to tie them up.’

  ‘What threads are you referring to?’ said Malin.

  ‘We still don’t know what he’s done with Fischer,’ said Jarmo.

  ‘As one example,’ said Edelman.

  ‘Then we have this woman,’ said Fabian, setting out some of the pictures of the woman with poked-out eyes from the bus.

  ‘Who is that?’ Edelman picked up and looked at one of the pictures.

  ‘We don’t know right now, but these photos were in his apartment along with similar images of Grimås and Fischer.’

  ‘So there may be another victim who’s locked up somewhere?’ Edelman shook his head and sighed.

  ‘Or else she’ll be blissfully ignorant of the fact that she was next in line.’

  ‘When can we question him?’ asked Malin, preparing another Finn Crisp.

  ‘I’ve just been in contact with Stockholm South General Hospital,’ said Edelman. ‘They’re in the process of sewing him up right now.’

  ‘So we should be able to go there in an hour or so.’

  ‘Not so fast. Evidently he’s not mentally stable after what happened.’

  ‘And he was before?’ said Tomas with a laugh.

  ‘His therapist seems to think so and has now issued a ban on visitors.’

  ‘What do you mean, “ban on visitors”?’ said Jarmo. ‘He can’t just obstruct our investigation, can he?’

  ‘Unfortunately that’s exactly what he can do, as long as it concerns the suspect’s health, and let’s not forget that. However sure we may be of his guilt, he’s only a suspect at the present time.’

  ‘So when can we see him?’ Fabian repeated, even though he already felt that it would be a while from now.

  ‘They promised to get back to us after the weekend, but said we should count on waiting at least a week.’

  ‘A week?’ said Tomas, emptying the last of the schnapps. ‘I shot him in the leg, for Christ’s sake, not the mouth!’

  ‘The question is whether it’s even possible to have a fair interrogation,’ said Malin.

  A week or even two wouldn’t work, thought Fabian. Fischer would most certainly be dead by then, so would the woman on the bus.

  ‘What do we do now, besides sit here and twiddle our thumbs?’ said Tomas.

  ‘Obviously, no one’s going to be twiddling their thumbs,’ said Edelman. ‘Stubbs is already busy going through his apartment and she might find a good lead.’

  ‘Okay, then we’ll just have to cross our fingers,’ said Tomas, dipping another Finn Crisp with caviar in the plate of red onions.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll get much further right now.’ Edelman stood up. ‘Help yourselves to the food. I have a press conference to prepare for, which will hopefully be the last one related to this case.’ He left the room.

  Silence descended on the room. The happy mood from earlier had been extinguished.

  ‘Unless something happens, I guess I’ll see you Monday,’ said Fabian, shoving back his chair.

  ‘Absolutely. Have a nice weekend,’ said Jarmo.

  ‘Same to you.’ Fabian left the room and could hear Malin hurrying after him.

  ‘You’re going home?’

  ‘Yes, but not to my place. I’m actually heading to your street.’

  ‘Huh? I don’t understand—’

  ‘And you’re coming along to pay a visit to one of your neighbours.’

  42

  IT WAS A RACE against time. Willumsen’s more than two-hour head start had to be made up at any price, every precious second. Unfortunately, a lot of valuable time had been spent getting her dress off. The zipper on the skirt stuck, and after trying it gently both up and down Dunja finally pulled on it in sheer frustration, so that it split and ended up in the wastebasket. It took two packets of tissues to wipe the sweat off her body.

  Fortunately, the last people from the department had already gone home, so she could change right in front of her desk. The moment she pulled on her jeans and polo shirt she felt like herself again. She gathered up the files of old investigations and turned off her computer.

  ‘So, this is where you’ve been hiding.’

  Dunja turned around and saw Sleizner walking towards her.

  ‘What happened in there?’ He threw out his arms. ‘It must have been something incredibly important for you to just leave in the middle of a press conference.’

  She nodded and put the files in her bag. ‘It was the Helsingborg police. Willumsen has struck again. He abducted a young woman off the ferry to Sweden, so I have to get out there as soon as possible. I’ll be in touch and explain more when I’m on the train.’ She slung her bag over her shoulder and turned around to leave.

  ‘Not so fast.’ Sleizner took hold of her arm so that the bag fell to the floor. ‘Let’s take it a little easier.’

  ‘Kim, I’m sorry, but I really don’t have time to—’

  The grip on her arm hardened while he pressed his index finger from his other hand against her mouth. ‘Now you listen to me. Is that understood?’

  Dunja nodded and Sleizner loosened the grip on her arm.

  ‘Do you have any idea what you just subjected me to out there?’ He started to walk around her. ‘I gave you an investigation that some people in this building would give their right arm for. I let you sit up on stage with me. I rolled out a wide, long and newly minted red fucking carpet for your sake! And what do I get in return?’

  Sleizner was standing right behind her with his face so close to her that she could feel his breath against her earlobe. It smelled of a stubborn cold and she had to force herself not to lean away. It wasn’t Sleizner’s first outburst. On the contrary, it was normal that he chewed out his employees right and left. But this was the first time she’d been in the line of fire herself. When Hesk and all the others had been in this situation they’d stayed calm and simply taken it until he was finished.

  ‘Yes, I’m going to tell you,’ Sleizner walking in circles around her and then stopping to face her.

  But she didn’t have the time. Every second that passed gave Willumsen a longer head start.

  ‘A big fucking middle finger right in front of the cameras!’ He held up his middle finger so that it grazed her nose. ‘I sat there like a fucking fool and had no idea—’

  ‘Kim, you have to excuse me.’ Dunja removed his hand from her face. ‘But I really don’t have time for this right now.’

  ‘Time? I tell you what you have time for! And right now that’s to stand here and listen to me. Did you simply think you could leave now?’

  Dunja nodded and Sleizner looked shocked.

  ‘I’m sorry if it got a little ridiculous out there. I truly am. But you assigned me to lead this investigation and that’s exactly what I intend to do.’ She picked up the bag from the floor and went towards the exit.

  ‘Dunja, wait—’

  She turned around and saw him walking towards her. ‘Yes?’

  He let out a long, heavy sigh. ‘I’m sorry. That wasn’t how I intended this to go.’ He stopped in front of her again and looked her directly in the eyes. ‘It felt like you pulled my trousers down out there. I know that you’re only trying to take responsibility for this investigation, but that wasn’t the right way to go about it. Even you have to agree with that.’

  Dunja nodded. ‘Yes, and I’m really sorry about it. But I have to—’

  ‘I am too – sorry, that is. And we were having such a nice time before all this happened.’ He took her hands in his. ‘I’m prepared to wipe the slate clean and start over from scratch. What do you say?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Dunja, making another e
ffort to leave. She just needed to get away from here, but Sleizner persisted in holding on to her hands and gazing into her eyes.

  ‘Sure?’

  She nodded again, and he broke into a smile.

  ‘Good. Then we know where we stand with each other.’ He kissed her hand and let her go.

  43

  ONLY AFTER THE THIRD ring did Malin’s neighbour finally answer the door, looking back and forth between her and Fabian with a bewildered expression. He was dressed in beige corduroy trousers, a white shirt and leather waistcoat. With his small round glasses and greying, shoulder-length hair, he looked more like a fiddler from the northern Swedish forests than a psychoanalyst of some of Sweden’s most violent offenders.

  ‘Hi, how’s it going?’ Malin shook hands with the man, who looked even more confused, if that were possible. ‘Don’t you recognize me? We met at the barbecue last autumn. My husband burned all the hot dogs, so we had to order pizza instead. I live just a few doors up the street.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I have a client who’s sitting and—’

  ‘No problem, this will take no time at all. May we come in?’

  ‘Uh, no. It’s not convenient.’

  ‘Great! I wouldn’t say no to a chair to sit on. When you’re this pregnant, certain positions completely take everything out of you. By the way, this is my colleague Fabian Risk from the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation.’ Malin rolled her eyes at Fabian as she squeezed into the foyer and found a chair to sit down on. ‘Ah, just what I needed.’

  ‘Excuse me, but what is this about?’

  ‘Ossian Kremph. Does that name sound familiar?’

  ‘So you were the people who chased him on to the subway tracks and shot him.’

  ‘Actually, that was a different officer. But we do need to see him – as soon as possible.’