‘And?’ Isaksson was beginning to lose patience.
‘She was a prostitute.’
‘The newspapers didn’t indicate that.’
‘We haven’t released that information… yet.’
‘Look, I know you have a difficult case on your hands, but I have a meeting to go to soon. Can you come to the point? Why are you here?’
‘It’s delicate. I didn’t want to approach you anywhere official.’ This was the bit that Moberg was going to enjoy. ‘We’ve been to Switzerland, and we’ve discovered Akerman’s client list. There are two Swedes with Malmö connections on it. Do you know a Markus Asplund?’
‘Should I?’
‘He runs Malasp Travel. Appears on telly adverts.’
‘Now you mention it, I have heard of the company.’
‘And the man himself? Have you come across him?’
Isaksson shook his head and took another drag on his cigarette.
Moberg paused, savouring the moment. ‘The other name on the list… it’s yours.’
For a moment, Isaksson just stared at him.
‘Is this what the police have been reduced to?’ he barked angrily, throwing his cigarette on the ground. ‘Because I hold you publicly accountable, you have to stoop this low to get back at me. Try and besmirch my name, make me look—’
‘I’m not making you look anything,’ Moberg interrupted angrily. ‘I’m just saying your name’s on a high-class call girl’s client list, and we have to carry out our duty and ask you why. It’s my job.’
‘This is absolute rubbish. I’ve never heard of this woman. And I find the suggestion that I would consort with such a person totally offensive.’
‘You’re religious, aren’t you?’ Moberg knew he was losing it, but couldn’t stop himself.
Isaksson was momentarily taken off guard. ‘Of course.’
‘Do you like women dressing up as nuns?’ The moment it came out, he knew he’d gone too far.
Isaksson exploded. ‘You’ve made a huge mistake crossing me, Moberg. You won’t know what’s hit you when I’ve finished with you.’
Isaksson turned his back on him.
‘I’ll see myself out then. But I’ll be back.’
Moberg sat in his car and hit the steering wheel in frustration. Yet again, he had let someone get under his skin. He had blurted out the one piece of information he was intending to keep quiet about – the nun’s habit. It was something he could have used against Isaksson at a later date. Now he had blown the advantage and given the politician time to cover his tracks and throw up official obstacles. But at least he hadn’t left empty-handed. He fished out the unfinished cigarette that Isaksson had tossed away, and carefully wrapped it in his handkerchief. It wouldn’t be admissible in court, but at least they could check if the DNA from the butt matched that from the semen stain. He was hoping that it would.
Hakim had been on the phone all morning. The picture emerging of Markus Asplund fitted in with what they already knew. He was certainly affluent. The travel business was lucrative, especially if there was a sizeable number of corporate clients. Several of Sweden’s top firms used Malasp Travel. Asplund had travelled to America three times this year alone, and he had been to Geneva once. His background wasn’t remarkable. Born in Ystad, his father worked on the ferries and his mother was a medical receptionist. He hadn’t gone to university but had worked in the building trade for a few years. When he was twenty-one, he had taken himself off round the world doing odd building jobs to pay his way. That must have kindled his love of globe-trotting because on his return, he joined a travel firm in Malmö. Within five years, he had set up his own office. By this time, he was married and had his first child. Hakim had found a connection of sorts.
He popped his head round Wallen’s door. ‘Do you know where the chief inspector is?’
‘Called in to say he was dropping something off in Lund. Would be back after lunch. Have you got anything?’
‘Well, not between Akerman and Asplund as such. But Asplund set up his first travel business from his home. It wasn’t Malasp Travel then because he wasn’t in Malmö. It was called Adventure Travel. It was aimed at young people who wanted to hitchhike round the world. When that took off, he set up an office in Lund to be near students. Then he graduated to Malmö, and more sophisticated clients and holidays.’
‘What’s the relevance?’
‘Asplund’s wife, Ella, comes from Sjöbo. That’s where they lived for a couple of years when they were first married, and that’s where he set up his first office.’
‘And Isaksson’s from Sjöbo.’
‘Exactly. Both clients of a woman who happens to have one number in her mobile phone – a nursing home just outside Sjöbo. Is Sjöbo the connection we’re looking for?’
CHAPTER 26
They stood inside meditationplatsen. In the distance, beyond the undulating grassy slope and the scattered clumps of trees, the sea looked serene. Anita had suggested this trip to the summer home of Dag Hammarskjöld because she thought Kevin would be interested. In reality, it was to give her somewhere to sort out the unsettling thoughts which had been running away with her over the last twenty-four hours. The Meditation Place was what Anita needed right now.
It was composed of a low ring of stones with a large boulder in the middle inscribed with the word PAX. It was a relatively recent addition to Dag Hammarskjöld’s thirty-hectare estate at Backåkra, round the coast from Ystad. She had explained to an interested Kevin that he had been the second Secretary-General of the United Nations in the 1950s. He had bought the farm as a summer residence in 1957. The half-timbered farmhouse up the hill had been turned into a museum after his death, but there was no sign of life in it when they had peered through the windows. Anita took a photo of Kevin standing next to a large bronze of the great man’s head and giving a cheeky peace sign with his fingers.
‘People come to this ring for weddings and baptisms. And in a week’s time, at Midsummer, thousands will gather here. Pity you’re going to miss that. It’s the biggest day of our year.’
‘So what happened to Dag thingy?’
‘Hammarskjöld’s plane crashed over Africa. Everybody on board was killed. He was flying from Leopoldville to a place in Northern Rhodesia… I can’t remember the name. He was trying to negotiate a ceasefire between various rival factions in the Congo. Many believe he was the best Secretary-General ever. John F. Kennedy called him “the greatest statesman of our century”.’
Kevin took off his sunglasses and looked quizzically at Anita. ‘How come you know so much about him?’
‘I did a project on him at school,’ she admitted bashfully.
‘Now you mention it, it does ring a few bells. How did the plane crash?’
They moved out of the circle as the peace was shattered by a group of talkative middle-aged women brandishing walking poles.
‘Surrounded in mystery. Many believe it was deliberately shot down. The first investigation put the crash down to pilot error, but since then, there’s been talk of a second plane sighted nearby. Some say that some of the crash victims had bullets in them. There appeared to be lots of inconsistencies.’
‘And reasons for shooting his plane down?’
‘Complicated. Possibly something to do with commercial interests in a mineral-rich part of the Congo. Katanga, I think it was called. America worried about it falling into Soviet hands. The Belgians and the British were also involved, as well as the UN. There are lots of conspiracy theories.’
‘Yeah, I must read up about all this. Sounds just my sort of thing.’
‘Something to keep you busy on long winter nights in Penrith.’
They stopped on the brow of the hill, the farmhouse behind them. ‘If you’re not there to keep me warm, I’ll have to do something.’ He leant over and gave her a soft kiss on her lips. Any further endearments were interrupted by Anita’s mobile phone. Kevin’s exaggerated sigh didn’t distract her from seeing who the call was from. E
va Thulin.
‘I’ve got to take this.’
Anita seemed pensive when she had finished her call. Kevin knew that Eva Thulin had something to do with forensics and that Anita had phoned her before they set out on their trip to Hammarskjöld’s retreat.
‘Any luck?’ he asked.
‘You love a conspiracy theory?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, what about this? I’ve just spoken to Eva, and she said that neither Rylander’s nor Klas’s bodies were brought to Lund. They should have gone there. They would need autopsies because of the ways they both died.’ The strong light glinted off her sunglasses. ‘She’s double-checked, but they definitely didn’t come in.’
‘But the bodies will have to appear at some stage for their respective funerals.’
‘I’m sure they will, but it would be good to make sure that they were properly examined beforehand.’ Anita threw her arms up in the air. ‘But the whole thing doesn’t make sense. What if Klas was right about being suspicious of Rylander’s death? Moa the nurse wasn’t convinced either. Then Klas suddenly gets killed. What if that wasn’t an accident? What if, as the tyre tracks indicate, he was deliberately driven off the road?’
‘Come on, that’s difficult to buy. This isn’t the Cold War.’
Anita stared at him. ‘But it might have something to do with it. Rylander was at the heart of things at the time.’ Even to Anita, it was starting to sound outlandish, but she pressed on. ‘Klas said that Rylander indicated that it all started and finished in Berlin.’
‘I think he said Wilhelmstrasse.’
‘But that’s in Berlin!’ Kevin was being annoyingly pedantic. ‘So what happened in Berlin?’
‘Well, two things must have happened if it started and finished there.’
‘Are you always like this?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Quibbling.’
‘It’s one of my best qualities,’ he tried to joke.
‘It’s not a quality I like.’
‘All right, I’m sorry,’ Kevin said hurriedly. He needed to placate her before it blew up into their first row. ‘Look, I’ll tell you what. We’ve got all Klas’s notes back at the house. Maybe we’ll find some answers in there.’
Moberg didn’t give the team a blow-by-blow account of his unsuccessful meeting with Axel Isaksson. And he didn’t inform them about the cigarette butt, which he had handed over to Eva Thulin, who would pass it on for DNA testing. Naturally, he hadn’t told her how he had come by it, as he knew she wouldn’t have allowed herself to be involved in such a deception. He knew he couldn’t do anything with the evidence, but if he could connect Isaksson to Akerman, then he had some ammunition. What he wasn’t looking forward to was the expected call from Commissioner Dahlbeck wanting to know why he had visited the politician – he expected Isaksson to use the word “harassment” – and why he had disobeyed specific instructions to leave well alone until there was some firm evidence. He knew he had possibly buggered up any chance of nailing Isaksson. Which is why he was in a foul mood when the team assembled, and he opened the meeting with: ‘Give me something fucking positive!’ And they did on the Asplund front. The Sjöbo connection sounded encouraging.
‘Do we know whether Asplund and Isaksson knew each other?’ Moberg asked. ‘They’d both be young men then.’
‘Asplund was only there for a couple of years, but they might well have come across each other,’ chirped up Wallen. Hakim was impressed how assertive she was being on this case; maybe she was emerging from Anita’s shadow. ‘The population is only around six thousand for the whole municipality. But we haven’t anything positive yet.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But one tack I thought worth taking was to follow up the well-publicized fact that Isaksson is a devout churchgoer.’
‘Mmm.’ Moberg was about to blast off on an anti-church invective but reined himself in.
‘He’s an upright member of Svenska Kyrkan. So, I thought I’d check out the local Church of Sweden in Sjöbo. He wasn’t a member of that congregation, but it turns out that he was attached to a lot called the Church of God’s Mission on Earth.’
‘Who the fuck are they?’
‘It was more of a sect than a church. It was run by a charismatic pastor who’d broken away from the official church because he didn’t believe that they were engaging enough with young people and too many were slipping away from the path of righteousness as a result. His church appealed particularly to young families.’
‘And is this Mission on Earth outfit still going?’
‘No. A number of followers left Sjöbo, and it closed down after a few years because the congregation had dwindled to virtually nothing.’
‘And Isaksson was one the church members? Is that any use to us?’
Wallen’s face lit up. ‘I was thinking back to Julia Akerman’s cross and the bible that Hakim saw by her bedside in Switzerland. She was connected with a church over there. So, as she may well have a link with Sjöbo – the number in her phone points to that – I thought a visit to the pastor might throw up something. He’s still alive and living in the town.’
Moberg went over to the crime scene photos of the dead woman. Next to them were photos of the wooden cross and the inscribed page of Akerman’s bible, that Hakim had taken with his mobile phone while in her apartment.
‘You think she may have been one of the Mission on Earth worshippers? Did they have an Ebba in their congregation?’
‘We should ask the question.’
Before Moberg could speak again, there was a knock on the door and a young secretary slipped into the room.
‘What?’ Moberg shouted angrily, annoyed that his train of thought had been disturbed. The secretary winced.
‘I’m sorry, Chief Inspector. Commissioner Dahlbeck would like to see you.’ Her voice was muted.
‘Can’t you see I’m busy?’
Despite her trepidation, she stood her ground. ‘He wants to see you now.’
CHAPTER 27
Anita was uncharacteristically nervous. She stood outside the Simrishamn police station, unsure whether to go in. Initially, she had had no intention of doing so, but that was before her visit to the letting agent of the holiday home next to Albin Rylander’s. She had gone in to get the name and address of Fanny and Benno. The girl on the desk had been reluctant to give out the information until Anita had flashed her warrant card. That had done the trick, and she had the name – Källström. After further prompting, the girl had produced a Stockholm address and phone number. Anita had gone out into the sunshine on a busy Storgatan and phoned. The elderly lady at the end of the line said that she was called Källström, but she had no idea who Fanny and Benno were. Anita checked the address with her. That was correct; so was the phone number the letting agent had given her. Further questions about whether Fanny and Benno might be a nephew or niece or grandchild were indignantly rebuffed, and when the old woman threatened to call the police about nuisance calls, Anita gave up. As she put her phone away, she was faced with the obvious question – who were the young couple?
To double-check, she went back to the letting agent. Yes, they had paid in advance. It was a fairly late booking, but they had been in the holiday home for three weeks. The woman who picked up the keys matched Kevin’s description. And the keys were returned to the office. They had been shoved through the letterbox before any staff had arrived on the Friday morning.
‘We were a bit surprised,’ the girl remarked.
‘Why?’
‘Well, the Källströms had booked the house for six weeks. It doesn’t worry us because it’s all paid for. Maybe they had to go back to Stockholm for some emergency. It just seems a waste of a nice holiday let.’
Anita’s mind was now working overtime. ‘Can I borrow the keys? Just until tomorrow.’ The girl immediately looked worried. ‘It’s police business,’ Anita said firmly. ‘You’ll have them back before the office closes tomorrow. I’ll sign for them.’
‘I su
ppose that’s all right,’ she said uncertainly.
Alice Zetterberg feigned surprise at seeing Anita enter her office. They surveyed each other like a mongoose and a cobra. The mutual mistrust and loathing was taken as read. Zetterberg didn’t offer Anita a seat.
‘Are you so bored with your holiday that you have to come and pester us? I assume this isn’t a social visit.’
‘It’s about Albin Rylander’s suicide and Klas Lennartsson’s death.’ There was no point in any preamble.
‘Neither of which have anything to do with you.’
‘Are you in charge of those cases?’
‘I would hardly call them cases. But, yes, I’m overseeing them.’
Anita suddenly felt uncomfortable under Zetterberg’s unflinching stare. Why the hell had she come to see this ghastly woman?
‘I have some information that might be useful.’
‘And what could you possibly have that would be useful to me?’
‘Both Lennartsson, and Rylander’s nurse, Moa Hellquist, felt there was something not right about the suicide. Rylander’s positive state of mind at the time made them sure that he wasn’t contemplating killing himself.’
Zetterberg gave a mirthless laugh. ‘And that’s it? You’ve been listening to the wrong people. Lennartsson seemed to have his head up his arse most of the time; and the nurse is busy covering herself for neglecting her patient. She should have made sure he wasn’t storing away his pills.’
‘So why were the bodies not taken to Lund for the autopsies?’ Anita snapped back.
Zetterberg scrutinized her old foe. ‘You have been a busy little bee. The reason they didn’t go to Lund is that they had too big a workload, so they were sent up to Stockholm instead. And they found nothing suspicious.’
‘You’ve seen the reports?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about the tyre marks at Lennartsson’s crash scene? The angle of the swerve?’
Midnight In Malmö: The Fourth Inspector Anita Sundström Mystery (The Malmö Mysteries Book 4) Page 14