‘So, when do we go?’
‘Tomorrow. Late morning. The flight’s only an hour.’
Kevin lazed back in his chair. ‘For how long?’
‘Two nights.’
‘Well, when you’ve finished this, you’d better go and book the flight and hotel.’
Anita started to laugh. ‘I have already.’
He joined in. ‘Bugger me! You don’t waste time, do you? How did you know I’d agree?’
‘I didn’t. But then I thought you were the sort of man who’d follow me to the ends of the earth,’ she teased.
He leant over, took her hand and gave it a mock kiss. ‘Maybe not to the ends of the earth, but I’ll go as far as the Brandenburg Gate.’
Later on, over an outside supper at the picnic table of cold sill in mustard and hot potatoes, they got down to the business of the trip. Kevin had insisted that they go Dutch on the expenses for the flights and hotel. She had tried to dissuade him, as she knew this was only happening because of her insistence, but he wouldn’t budge.
Anita told him of her conversation with Eva Thulin about the autopsies, and her visit to Klas’s home and the strong feeling that it had been searched. ‘Professional job,’ was her assessment. She went on to graphically describe her brief encounter with Alice Zetterberg. ‘I don’t know whether it was a coincidence that she was there, or if she was having the house watched and had a tip-off. Put it this way, she wasn’t pleased.’
‘So, you reckon this Hans-Dieter fellow will give us the answers?’
Anita reached over to the wine bottle and topped up their glasses.
‘That’s what I’m hoping.’
‘Do you speak German?’
‘I can get by in French, but not German. How about you?’
‘Look, Anita, you’ve heard my Essex accent. Most of my current colleagues don’t even think I speak English.’
Anita chuckled. ‘If I hadn’t worked in London, I wouldn’t understand you. Anyway, don’t worry. I doubt if Klas spoke German either, so I suspect he communicated with Hans-Dieter Albrecht in English.’
Kevin pulled out a cigarette. ‘You know, he might be suspicious of us just turning up out of the blue. It’s not as though we’ve been sent by Rylander in the way that Klas was. I suspect that Rylander had already warned this bloke that Klas would turn up at some stage. Should we give him a call to find out, before jetting off?’
Anita shook her head slowly. ‘I can’t find a number for an Albrecht living there.’
‘Ah, so we may get there and he’s not around or he won’t see us. Even worse, we might not be able to communicate with him.’
‘Come on, Kevin, don’t you like a challenge?’
‘Bloody hell!’ he said, waving his unlit cigarette at her and almost knocking over his glass of wine in the process. ‘Just going on holiday with you is a challenge. You entice me over here with the promise of sea, sand and sex, and I get murder, mystery and… and… I can’t think of another thing beginning with bloody “m”, all thrown in.’
‘What are you complaining about?’ She fluttered her eyelashes at him and playfully blew him a kiss. ‘I’ve lived up to the first three promises.’
‘I’ll let you off then.’ Then his expression turned serious. ‘You know; if you’re correct about all these things – and I have to agree something’s not right here – this isn’t going to be some jolly Agatha Christie jaunt. If Rylander was murdered and Klas was killed deliberately because he was getting too close to the truth of Rylander’s big secret, there is one very dangerous person out there. Probably more than one.’ He pursed his lips. ‘You’ve already ruffled a few feathers. If whoever it is has already killed, and gone to huge lengths to do so – and we’re going to follow the exact same path as Klas – I think we’re going to have to be bloody careful from now on.’
CHAPTER 33
Nine o’clock on a Sunday morning wasn’t the easiest time to get one’s brain in gear, but Moberg had called them in to go over all the evidence that had been gathered the day before. The fact that they had made some headway ensured that Moberg was in a positive frame of mind, even though Wallen had been desperate for a lie-in, Brodd was still hung over after his date, and Hakim had had to postpone a promised visit to see Jazmin and Lasse’s apartment. Since returning to Malmö full time, he hadn’t had the time to go round and see them. He hated himself for feeling a slight sense of relief; he knew he’d probably end up arguing with his sister. He still couldn’t get his head around the fact that Lasse had taken her on. In fact, it was Lasse he’d had to phone to apologize to because he couldn’t reach Jazmin’s mobile.
The meeting-room table was strewn with pieces of paper, photographs, cups of coffee, and the detritus of the various versions of breakfast the team had brought in with them. Hakim had a laptop with him. Moberg pointed at Wallen to begin.
‘Yesterday, Pontus and I visited Pastor Elias Kroon of the Church of God’s Mission on Earth.’
‘Excuse me, Klara. Pontus, are you with us?’
Brodd sat up guiltily.
‘Sorry, Boss. Night with the lady.’
Wallen’s face twisted in disgust, Hakim glanced at the ceiling and Moberg frowned.
‘I hope it was worth it.’
‘You could say that.’ Whatever he was trying to imply, everybody else in the room knew that Brodd’s chances of getting laid were pretty remote. And there was no way he could admit to them that she had left the bar without him at around eleven.
‘Just keep your mind on the fucking job. Klara, carry on.’
‘Initially, the pastor wasn’t keen to have us there, but he did open up eventually. Our victim was a member of his church. Her real name was Ebba Pozorski. She was born in Wroclaw in Poland, which is why we couldn’t find her birth anywhere here. Moved to Sjöbo when she was little with her Polish father, Boleslaw, and her Swedish mother of Polish extraction, Elzbieta. The family joined Kroon’s church. What has now emerged is that both Axel Isaksson and Markus Asplund were also members, so now we’ve got an historic connection between our two main suspects. It seems that it was Asplund who was mainly connected with the young Ebba.’
Moberg held up a meat plate of a hand.
‘We’ll come to that. I think we need to know everything about our victim first before we go through the suspects – much as I’m looking forward to that.’ Brodd summoned up a laugh as he knew he needed to get back into the chief inspector’s good books. ‘From now on, to avoid confusion, I want Julia Akerman referred to by her real name, Ebba Pozorski.’ The team nodded agreement. ‘Anything further from your end, Klara?’
With a wry glance in Brodd’s direction, she went on: ‘As we were in Sjöbo, we decided that it might be an idea to go to the nursing home where Boleslaw Pozorski is a resident. He suffers from Alzheimer’s, so wasn’t any help.’
‘He called you “Elzbieta”,’ contributed Brodd.
Wallen ignored his comment. ‘Though we got nothing out of him, we were able to confirm through the staff that Julia… sorry, Ebba, visited him nearly every month. In fact, her visits tally with her known trips to Sweden.’
‘And her last visit?’ asked Moberg.
‘The day before she died. The staff were helpful and said that Ebba was very affectionate towards him, even though most of the time he didn’t know who she was. She was also very generous with funding for the home. Though it’s state run, Ebba’s donations have helped them buy extra equipment and improve the facilities.’
‘Presumably, they don’t know how she made the money for her donations?’
‘Not yet. It’ll come as a shock when all this comes out. But the picture that is emerging is of a woman who didn’t spend extravagantly or live the high life, despite her well-paid profession.’
‘Her home wasn’t as you would expect,’ added Hakim. ‘Smart but basic. And she didn’t fly first class or anything like that.’
‘Basically, a good Christian girl who was corrupted.’
�
�I’d agree with you, Klara.’ Moberg shifted in his seat. The room was warm even at that time in the morning. The scorcher was continuing. ‘OK, have we got anything else on Ebba Pozorski?’
‘I have,’ piped up Hakim. ‘After Klara discovered her real name, I was able to search the usual sources – criminal record database, tax office records, vehicle licensing, old electoral registers et cetera. She was certainly living in Malmö in 1996; she was working in a convenience store down in Möllevången. That didn’t last long though, and she seems to have drifted from one job to another. In 1998, she was caught soliciting; that was before the law changed. She was let off with a warning. Then she disappeared from official sight until February 2003, when she found taxed employment.’
‘Where?’
‘Lund. Do you want to guess the name of the company she worked for?’
Moberg clapped his hands together. ‘Malasp Travel!’
‘Yeah.’
‘Fantastic! How long was she there?’
‘Five years. She was classed as a travel representative, whatever that means. Then she suddenly drops off the radar.’
Moberg rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘Right, so she disappears in 2008 and turns up in Switzerland…’
‘A year later; but with a new name.’
‘And a new profession – or returning to an old one,’ Moberg mused. ‘So how come she goes from travel representative to high-class call girl in a year?’
‘Well, I think Markus Asplund must be behind all this,’ weighed in Wallen, who was horrified at the role this man must have had in the poor girl’s life.
‘That neatly brings us on to our first suspect.’
Wallen went up to the board, wrote Pastor Kroon’s name, and then linked it with red arrows to the photos of Asplund and Isaksson. ‘According to Pastor Kroon, it was Asplund who turned Ebba from sweet Christian girl into call girl. That’s why he was expelled from the church. Despite the fact that Asplund was a man with a young family, he took an unhealthy interest in Ebba, and led her down the path of depravity, if Kroon is to be believed.’
‘And is he?’
‘I didn’t like him,’ Wallen confessed, ‘but there’s no reason for him to lie. He seemed to have liked the Pozorskis.’ She sat down.
‘Is that your impression, Pontus?’
Brodd looked momentarily startled. ‘Yeah. Bit creepy if you ask me. In a religious sort of way, of course.’
Moberg stood up, went to the board, and looked hard at Markus Asplund’s smiling face.
‘We’ve got a lot against him now. We know that he knew Ebba from an early age. If the pastor is correct, he knew her too intimately. We don’t know what relationship they had between him leaving Sjöbo and her becoming one of his employees in 2003. She leaves five years later. By 2009, she’s living in Switzerland under a false name, servicing clients all over Europe. We know they’re still in contact because he’s on her client spreadsheet. Fast forward to twelve days ago, and she’s murdered in the park. Asplund, we think, probably had sex with her the day she died. We should have that confirmed tomorrow, according to Thulin. He’s got an apartment in town not far from hers. Where did they meet to shag? His apartment? He has no proper alibi for the time of the murder, and we know he’s fit – runs and works out – and is right-handed; so that tallies with the attacker. And, as a frequent visitor to America, he could easily have got hold of the murder weapon. So, he has means and opportunity.’
‘I don’t know if it’s relevant, but he lied about knowing Isaksson,’ said Wallen.
‘No, that’s interesting. Why? Is Isaksson involved in the murder too?’
‘We still haven’t got a motive.’ This was still a detail that was nagging Hakim.
‘She must have had a lot of dirt on him,’ Brodd suggested as he emerged from the fog of his hangover.
‘He did have sex with a prostitute but, of course, we can’t arrest him for it,’ reasoned Hakim; ‘he never seems to have paid for it. Anything else she might have said would simply be her word against his, and his professional reputation would carry more weight than hers.’ Brodd sniggered. ‘I’ll tell you what’s been troubling me from the moment I found out what she did for a living, and even more so now we’ve found out a bit about her background: how did she find these wealthy clients all over Europe?’
There was silence as they all pondered the question.
‘It’s quite a leap from travel representative to trollop,’ agreed Moberg.
‘Maybe that’s it.’ Hakim said suddenly. ‘Travel is the key. All the clients were in cities that had an Easyjet flight to and from Geneva. That’s probably not a coincidence. The flights are well priced, so she could save money, much of which she passed on to her father’s nursing home. Budget travel’s also low profile; she wouldn’t stand out in the crowd. She’d know all about that sort of thing from working for Malasp. And she might have met her future clients on business trips while working for the agency. We need to check how often she worked out of the office during her time there – and how often she went abroad. And go through the names on the spreadsheet to see if the men listed have travel connections.’
‘It’s still not the easiest thing to do,’ Moberg pointed out doubtfully. ‘You can’t just walk up to someone and say “oh, by the way, I’m going to be a freelance whore soon; do you want to sign up here?”’
‘It might have been difficult for her,’ rising excitement was creeping into Wallen’s voice, ‘but it’s something that Asplund could do. In his business, he must have made masses of contacts all over the place.’
‘Fuck me, Klara. That’s a helluva thought. Asplund is Ebba’s pimp!’
‘That would make sense of all those free shags he was getting.’ Even Brodd had perked up now.
‘He really would have everything to lose if that came out,’ Moberg said with a certain amount of glee. ‘Maybe she was fed up with their arrangement, whatever it was, and wanted out. That might explain all the religious stuff. She wanted to repent.’
‘Or maybe she was becoming a liability,’ Wallen had a further thought. ‘There might have been an argument when they met that day, and she said something that forced him to act quickly and get rid of her that night while she was still in the country.’
‘That might answer another question that’s been bugging me,’ ventured Hakim. ‘He would probably know that she jogged in the park when she was in Malmö. As she wasn’t a frequent visitor to the city and, if we accept that the murder was premeditated, then the killer would have had to be familiar with her routine. He’d probably be the only person who’d know her movements.’
‘Someone else might.’ They all turned to the chief inspector.
‘Who?’ Hakim asked.
‘Axel Isaksson. I haven’t told you this because, unfortunately, it’s not official. But it’s been confirmed by Thulin that one of the DNA samples found in Ebba belonged to the esteemed politician. What’s more, it’s his semen on the nun’s habit. Isaksson definitely had sex with her during the two days she was here. Probably on the Monday.’
‘Could you see him running after Ebba with a knife?’ Wallen enquired.
‘Oh, I think he’s fit enough. Though he is a smoker; that’s how I got his DNA. So, you see, our problem is that it can’t be used in evidence against him. And anyway, I’ve been warned off by the commissioner. However, I think another little visit is called for to put the wind up him. After all, he paid for sex from a known prostitute, which is illegal. He also lied about knowing Ebba, who, as a member of this daft church, he’d probably known off and on for thirty-odd years. And what intrigues me is that both Isaksson and Asplund deny knowing each other. Why? They’re both on the spreadsheet. I can’t believe they haven’t been in contact recently. The question remains, are they in this together?’
‘So what action should we be taking, Boss?’ It was as though Brodd had made a major contribution to the meeting and was now helping to tie it all up.
‘As soon as we hear fr
om Thulin tomorrow about the other DNA sample, I want Asplund brought in for questioning. When’s he back?’
‘Tomorrow sometime,’ Wallen confirmed.
‘He’s bound to want a lawyer in, but I want him to feel the pressure. I want him to know we’re after him. And make sure you get his phone. I want that checked for any link with Ebba Pozorski, or Isaksson.’
‘What about Isaksson?’ Hakim asked.
‘An unofficial visit. I’m going to twist the knife tomorrow.’
‘What about the commissioner?’
‘Sod him. I’ve got two good reasons to talk to Axel Isaksson. One, he’s a serious suspect. Secondly, I can’t stand him.’
CHAPTER 34
Jazmin plonked the Willy’s supermarket bag on the small kitchen table. The apartment had looked very clean when she had come in through the front door. Lasse had been hard at work getting their home ready for Hakim’s visit, and had managed to hoover up nearly all Messi’s cat hairs. As she was about to unpack, Lasse came in from the living room.
‘He’s not coming.’
‘What!’ Jazmin exploded.
‘Sorry. He’s been called into work,’ Lasse said, giving her arm a consoling rub.
‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about! It’s typical of him. Any excuse. We make an effort and he can’t be bothered.’ She angrily banged a packet of rice on the table top.
‘He really did sound apologetic. But he’s working on that case of the jogger murdered in Pildammsparken.’
‘Look, Lasse, don’t make excuses for my brother. If he doesn’t want to come, then I wish he was honest enough to tell me.’ Further items of shopping were aggressively disgorged.
Midnight In Malmö: The Fourth Inspector Anita Sundström Mystery (The Malmö Mysteries Book 4) Page 18