‘An interesting story,’ said Nordlund after a short silence. ‘However, it doesn’t make Ingvar Serneholt a Nazi sympathizer. Or his father, for that matter.’
‘No. But his father lived and worked in Nazi Germany. He’d be exposed to the Nazi regime. He could have ended up having Nazi sympathies. I understand a lot of Swedes did at that time.’
‘Not our most glorious period,’ opined Nordlund.
‘Serneholt senior – he was called Ingvar too - mixed with some dubious characters. He may have passed on his ideas to his son. After all, his son obviously allowed a Holocaust denier to air his views on film in his house.’
‘Well done, Hakim.’ Anita was taken by the young man’s confidence in putting across his information and expressing his views. ‘It certainly is suggestive. And it’s these ideas that could have resulted in his murder. Our problem is to link it with the other two. And even if the men are connected ideologically, we have no idea who would have an obvious motive for killing them.’
‘More to the point, if they are in this “November 6th Group”, what is it they’re doing that makes someone want to kill them?’ Nordlund was right as usual, thought Anita.
Hakim pointed to the Bishop Green DVD that Anita had brought into the meeting. ‘The priest was inciting a war against incomers to Sweden, including the Jews. Should we be looking at the activity against ethnic groups in Malmö?’
‘That makes sense,’ answered Anita. ‘We’ve already got the “Malmö Marksman” gunning down immigrants. Remember, there have also been numerous well-publicised attacks against the Jewish community. They’ve even made the foreign press, and I read that the Simon Wiesenthal centre in America has asked Jews to exercise “extreme caution” when travelling in southern Sweden. The attacks have been blamed on Muslims, but they’ve been attacked themselves. And don’t forget the Bosnians and Serbs, who’ve been having their own turf wars. It’s turning into quite a melting pot. Worth looking at, because potential suspects could emerge from any of these groups. If that’s the case, the question is, how could they have found out about this obscure group if none of our contacts have ever heard of it?’
‘We’ve got the jogger with the black backpack,’ piped up Wallen, who had been drinking from a large bottle of water throughout the meeting. ‘I know we haven’t got a sighting on the actual night of Olofsson’s murder, but he was definitely about at the time of Serneholt’s killing. And wearing gloves on a warm evening.’
‘Yes. That’s interesting. We’re pretty sure a car was at Serneholt’s until quarter past eleven. Maybe the driver wasn’t the killer and the jogger went in afterwards. As with the DVD, the jogger could link Olofsson’s murder with Serneholt’s. And we know Olofsson had various business links to Ekman, but there’s nothing to connect Ekman to Serneholt, unless it’s the list. As for Gabrielsson’s disappearance, I don’t know where that fits in. OK,’ concluded Anita decisively, ‘we’ll present all our evidence and theories to the chief inspector on Monday morning and see what he has to say. Enjoy what’s left of your weekend.’
The drive over to Vik on Sunday morning was wet. It was the heaviest rain that there had been for weeks. The windscreen wipers on Anita’s car found it difficult to cope with the deluge and the constant spray from the vehicles going in the other direction. The weather matched her mood. She was sure that they were on the right track, though she was unsure of what Moberg would make of it. He was still convinced that Nilsson was their man. If he was right, then the Serneholt murder wasn’t connected. Maybe the bishop’s DVD was a red herring and that Nordlund’s gassing theory was just that – a theory. The more she thought about things, the more she began to doubt herself. And she knew that Westermark would do everything he could to torpedo her ideas. She wasn’t looking forward to Monday morning.
The rain had eased by the time she arrived in Vik. She parked her car and walked to Olofsson’s weekend cottage. She knew Carolina would be there because she had phoned ahead. Anita had hoped that she would be back in Malmö and that it would save her a journey. But Carolina hadn’t gone back to their Vikingagatan home since Anita had interviewed her with her daughter. Anita could understand why.
Carolina let Anita in and had some coffee ready in a thermos. Anita could see that she was still traumatized by the loss of her husband. She was distant and lapsed into periods of deep thought before politely answering Anita’s questions. Yes, Martin had gone off on April 16th to play golf as usual. No, he wasn’t into politics and let her get on with her Social Democratic canvassing.
‘Did he ever express any right-wing political opinions? Or have, say, any thoughts on the number of immigrants in Sweden?’
The question had brought Carolina out of her trance. ‘Not that I can remember. If he had, he would have had an argument on his hands.’ She glanced down to her wedding ring. ‘I think that’s why we got on so well. I had my causes, and he was relaxed about them. His life revolved around his work, his golf and his family.’
Anita finished off her coffee and set it down on the table. The room had a number of family photographs, including some of Martin by himself. She wondered if these had been put on show since his death.
‘Have you heard of Bishop Green?’
Carolina didn’t seem to have heard her, so Anita repeated the question.
‘That abhorrent man! Yes, I saw him on the television not that long ago. How could they allow someone like that to voice his rabid racism on our television screens? What has Sweden come to?’ Carolina was suddenly animated. ‘I don’t believe in censorship, but letting someone peddle such lies! It would almost be laughable if it weren’t for the realization that some people will believe what he has to say.’
People like her husband, thought Anita. She hadn’t the heart to say where she had come across the Bishop, and was evasive when Carolina asked her why she had asked the question.
A brief visit to the Österlen Golf Club confirmed that Martin Olofsson hadn’t played a round that day. Anita had expected that; so Olofsson could have attended that meeting on April 16th. As he was over in Vik and pretending to go golfing, then the most likely location for “The November 6th Group” meeting was Österlen. And Wollstad’s was the most obvious venue. It fitted in with Olofsson’s furtive manner in recent months. If he was part of a right-wing group, then he was hardly going to admit it to a strongly opinionated wife like Carolina Olofsson.
As she had to drive past Pelle Munk’s house on her return journey, she decided to call in. It wasn’t because she felt that there was any need to update him on the theft of the paintings, as he wasn’t the one who had lost them, but more to show that the police cared about finding his works of art. And, as it was Sunday, Karin might be around. She had enjoyed their lunch together. She had sensed that they could rekindle the genuine friendship that had lapsed for over twenty years. Karin’s blue Volvo was parked next to Munk’s green Citroën. Both vehicles had seen better days.
As Anita came into the courtyard the sun was making a tentative appearance through rapidly brightening stratocumulus clouds. The earlier rain hadn’t deterred Munk, who was sitting on a bench with a glass of wine.
‘Hello, herr Munk,’ Anita said loudly.
Munk raised his glass to her. ‘Welcome. I remember you. You’re the pretty one.’
‘I don’t feel it at the moment.’
‘Believe me, you are. An artist knows these things. Come and join us. Karin!’ he shouted. Karin appeared at the kitchen door. ‘We have a guest.’
Within minutes Anita had a glass in her hand and was invited to stay for a late lunch. While Karin was in the kitchen getting the meal ready, Munk fixed Anita with his piercing blue eyes. ‘Now pretty policewoman, have you come here on official business?’
‘No. But I do have news that another of your paintings has been stolen.’
‘I haven’t heard anything,’ he said, draining his glass and filling it up again from the bottle on the table in front of them. He wouldn’t have, thought Anit
a. That was a detail of the Serneholt murder that hadn’t been released to the press. ‘Which one?’
‘Saturday & Sunday.’
Munk’s eyes narrowed. ‘Ingvar Serneholt?’
‘Yes,’ Anita said in surprise. ‘The painting was cut out of its frame.’ Then she remembered she had mentioned Serneholt and that particular painting to Karin when they had met up for lunch.
‘I hope they didn’t damage it.’
‘We don’t know as yet. But they certainly damaged Serneholt!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Haven’t you heard? He was killed when the painting was stolen.’
Munk looked stunned.
‘Did you know Serneholt?’
‘I met him once. Bit of an art groupie. He invited me over to his pad... near Malmö somewhere.’
‘When was this?’ Anita couldn’t help slipping into police mode even when she was making a conscious effort not to.
Munk shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Can’t remember. Some years ago.’ Munk raised his left hand and painted a stroke with an imaginary paint brush. ‘I didn’t realize owning my paintings could be so dangerous,’ he joked. ‘Do you know who did it?’
‘Not yet.’ Anita didn’t want to go into the details, so she changed the subject. ‘Are you all ready for the exhibition?’
Munk didn’t respond. Anita thought he hadn’t heard what she said. ‘The exhibition?’ She spoke as clearly as she could. ‘Is it all ready?’
He just grunted, waved a hand dismissively and took another drink. Anita didn’t pursue it any further.
After lunch, Anita and Karin walked down to the beach at Lilla Vik. It was only a five minute walk; across the main road, through an apple orchard, past a spankingly-painted, traditional timber house with a fabulous view over the sea and down a short, steep slope to the shore. Anita had walked here so many times over the years and had never got over the sense of release it always gave her. It was a place she loved and carried around in her heart wherever she went. Now that the sun had returned, families had come down to enjoy the rest of their Sunday. Some were walking their dogs, others were playing Frisbee with their kids. No one was actually swimming, but a few were splashing along the water’s edge, where the waves gave up being boisterous and fizzled into the sand. Anita liked it best in the winter when the place was deserted and she could pretend no one else in the world existed.
‘Your father didn’t seem very keen to talk about the exhibition.’
‘It’s just nerves,’ Karin sighed. ‘It’s a big thing for him. His comeback. He doesn’t know how the world will receive his new paintings. Will it be as good as the original work that made him famous? I’ve been mounting some of them this weekend. But I know it’ll be great.’ Karin stopped and gazed out to sea. ‘It’ll revitalize him. It’ll bring the old Pelle back to life.’
‘It’s a pity about Ingvar Serneholt’s murder.’
‘Is that the guy you told me about? The one who owned Saturday & Sunday?’ Karin looked shocked.
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, you’re joking!’
‘He was looking forward to the exhibition. I think he was keen to buy some more of Pelle’s work.’
Karin turned and began to walk away. ‘That’s bad timing.’
CHAPTER 33
‘If anybody but Henrik had come up with this stuff, I’d have told them to find another job.’ Moberg was looking at Anita when he spoke. The meaning was clear. ‘But I respect your opinion and judgment, Henrik,’ he said turning to Nordlund. ‘And, as we have had to let Nilsson go because of a lack of evidence, we’ve got to pursue this.’
‘Except for this list that he found,’ objected Westermark dismissively, referring to Hakim, ‘there really isn’t anything to tie all three murders together.’ He had sat through Nordlund, Anita, Hakim and Wallen explaining their findings in a meeting room which was plastered with photos of the victims - before and after death – scene-of-crime shots, maps of murder locations and a very small gallery of possible suspects. He could see his pivotal role in linking the Ekman and Olofsson murders being hijacked by Anita.
‘I know. But we have to take this list seriously until we can find an explanation for it. We have to discover what “The November 6th Group” is.’ He turned to Nordlund. ‘Is it a political group, as you and Sundström believe, or is it a commercial think tank? Or merely a social club? They might all be bloody golfers for all we know. Depending on what it is, the motive will become clearer. Does the group pose a threat to the killer? Or is it someone with a grudge against rich people?’ Moberg shook his head. ‘If someone else has got a copy of this and is using it as a hit list, for whatever reason, we have no choice... we have to speak to Dag Wollstad. He might be the next target.’
‘At least we can confirm whether Wollstad was on his estate on April 16th,’ said Anita. ‘We can assume Ingvar Serneholt was at the meeting, as he had the list. Martin Olofsson wasn’t where he said he was, so he could have made the meeting too. We don’t know about Ekman, but his wife could confirm his movements on that Saturday.’
‘The commissioner’s not going to like this, but if he thinks we’re concerned about Wollstad’s safety...’ Moberg didn’t bother finishing the sentence. ‘I’ll see him and sort it out. Then I want Westermark and Sundström to go Wollstad’s.’ Moberg had no desire to meet Wollstad again.
‘Why her?’
‘Because, Westermark, I want you to talk to Wollstad and I want Sundström to tackle Kristina Ekman. She seems to be living out there at the moment. It will have to be very low key, so I don’t want either of you two startling the horses.’
Westermark glared at Anita. She smiled sweetly back.
‘In the meantime, we all need to start digging deeper into the background of our three murder victims. We need more concrete connections. See if we can find out anything about Bishop Green’s movements while he was in Sweden. He must have been in Malmö. Who else, other than Serneholt, did he meet?’ Moberg eyes swivelled round the room. ‘We’ve got three murders on our hands and not one proper fucking suspect!’
It wasn’t until the next day, Tuesday, that a meeting with Wollstad was arranged. The nervous commissioner had wanted it all done officially so that there would be no recriminations. After the last time, Dalhberg was relieved that Moberg wasn’t going. On the other hand, Anita was not looking forward to her trip to Illstorp one iota. Stuck in a car with a randy and resentful Westermark wasn’t her idea of a nice day out. She had managed to avoid him since the Monday morning meeting. As she was preparing to leave the office, the phone rang. It was Moberg.
‘Change of plan. Turns out Kristina Ekman is back in town. She’s at her apartment. Go over there now with Hasim.’
‘Hakim.’
‘Whatever. Westermark will have to go to Illstorp alone. Nordlund and Wallen are out.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’ve upset Dag Wollstad enough already. Westermark’s got a high enough opinion of himself to cope with Wollstad. If Westermark establishes that Wollstad’s part of this November group, then we’re to offer him protection, though I’m sure he can afford his own. If he thinks we’re talking out of our arses, then at least we’ve been seen to do our duty.’
Kristina Ekman’s face only dropped for a fraction of a second when she answered the door and saw Anita and Hakim. She was back to glacial politeness when she showed them into her large living room. Hakim was silent. Anita could sense his amazement at such sumptuous trappings of wealth. Kristina didn’t offer them coffee, and Anita could tell that she wanted them out as quickly as possible.
Kristina, sitting like a ramrod, with the attitude of an elegant actress in a 1930s’ Hollywood movie, arched an eyebrow.
‘Is this about that banker again?’
‘No. It’s about your husband’s murder.’
‘They’ve put you on the case?’ The mock surprise was derisive.
Anita ignored it. ‘We need to establish where your husband
was on April 16th this year.’
‘Why?’
‘Because of this.’ Anita took out a photocopy of Serneholt’s “Sjätte November Gruppen” list.
Kristina took the piece of paper in her finely manicured fingers and perused it. ‘What’s this?’
‘That’s what we are trying to discover. Hakim found it on Ingvar Serneholt’s computer. He’s the man who was murdered last week.’
Kristina turned her gaze on Hakim. ‘Never met him, but I do know of him. Comes from a wealthy family. But I’ve certainly never heard of “The November 6th Group”.’
‘We believe IS stands for Ingvar Serneholt. The MO, Martin Olofsson. That’s your father’s banker I asked you about before. Our interest in this may tie in with an empty folder we found on your husband’s office computer, which was entitled “November 6th”. And there is a TE on the list, as you can see.’
‘It’s unlikely to be Tommy, as I don’t think he knew Ingvar Serneholt any more than I did.’
‘Had he met him?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘There’s also a DW. We thought that might be your father.’
‘That sounds pretty ludicrous. And where was this meeting meant to be taking place?’
‘We thought you might be able to help us with that.’
‘Hardly. As I said, I‘ve never heard of this... group.’
‘We think it has something to do with Gustav Adolf.’
‘There might well be a clue in the date I suppose,’ Kristina said sarcastically.
Murder in Malmö: The second Inspector Anita Sundström mystery (Inspector Anita Sundström mysteries) Page 21