‘Murdered?’ Bäckström was looking warily at Niemi.
‘Definitely,’ Niemi nodded.
‘No doubt about it,’ Hernandez confirmed. ‘But this one’s had his throat cut.’
No question about it, easily the best day of my life, Evert Bäckström thought when he walked out of the victim’s home a quarter of an hour later, heading for the taxi that was already waiting for him a little further along the street.
21
At roughly the same time as Detective Superintendent Evert Bäckström left the crime scene on Ålstensgatan in Bromma, heading for the police station in Solna to prepare for the first meeting of his investigative team, acting Chief Prosecutor Lisa Lamm received a phone call in her office from her ultimate superior, the Director of the Stockholm Public Prosecution Authority, who informed her that he was putting her in charge of the preliminary investigation into a murder that had in all likelihood occurred during the last day or so.
‘The victim isn’t just anyone, if I can put it like that,’ the director said, clearing his throat gently. ‘We’re talking about the lawyer, Thomas Eriksson, who by all accounts was murdered in his home out in Bromma sometime on Sunday evening or early this morning. So our victim isn’t exactly unknown to the media, as you’re no doubt aware,’ he said, then cleared his throat again.
‘Thomas Eriksson, the one the evening papers call the Muslim mafia’s favourite lawyer?’ Lisa Lamm was having trouble concealing her surprise.
‘Exactly, that’s the one,’ the director said. ‘As I’m sure you realize, this could be very complicated and rather unpleasant, depending on the end result. So if you have any doubts at all, I want you to let me know now. I’d just have to appoint someone else.’ The director cleared his throat for a third time.
‘No,’ Lisa Lamm said. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’
‘Excellent,’ the director said. ‘If there are any problems, I want you to contact me directly. I’d also like you to keep me informed of your progress.’
‘Of course,’ Lisa Lamm said.
Thomas Eriksson the lawyer. Bloody hell, she thought as she hung up.
The Western District, Lisa Lamm reflected. At least there’s one person there that I know and like. Then she called her old friend Commissioner Toivonen, who was head of the crime unit in the Western District.
‘That’s a coincidence,’ Toivonen said. ‘I was just thinking about you. I’ve just put your investigative team together, and I can give you the good news that you’re going to be up to full strength, according to the National Police Committee’s recommendations for the investigation of serious offences. Their first meeting is due to take place in three hours. At noon, out here in Solna. I’ve organized a passcard for you. It’s at reception.’
‘Thanks. And with me leading the investigation, if I’m allowed to express a preference.’
‘On that point, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you,’ Toivonen said. ‘This time we’ve wheeled out the really heavy artillery.’
‘Who’s that, then?’
‘Our very own Evert Bäckström. It’s high time that you got to meet the man, the myth, the legend, even if I’m always a bit dubious about the first part of that description.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘You can probably expect a fair bit of bullshit,’ Toivonen said, sounding pretty pleased with himself. ‘If he gets too awful you’ll just have to tell me, and I’ll beat some sense into him. I’ve done it before, so I’ve got no problem with that.’
Evert Bäckström. Just as well to take the bull by the horns right away, Lisa Lamm thought. Then she called Anna Holt, who was Chief of Police of the Western District, and Bäckström’s ultimate boss.
‘I had a feeling you were going to call, and I’ve already worked out what you want to talk about,’ Anna Holt said as soon as Lisa Lamm said her name. ‘Can I suggest that you and I have a short meeting here, quarter of an hour before you meet Bäckström and the others?’
‘Quarter to twelve in your office, that suits me fine,’ Lisa Lamm said.
‘Excellent,’ Holt said. ‘Well, thanks for the call.’
Then she had simply hung up. They don’t hang around, Lisa Lamm thought, shaking her head.
22
‘Please, sit down, Lisa,’ Holt said, gesturing to one of the three visitor’s chairs that were ranged on the other side of her large desk.
‘Thanks,’ Lisa Lamm said, and sat down.
‘You’ll have to correct me if I’m wrong,’ Holt went on as she opened one of the files on the desk, ‘but I got the impression that you wanted to talk to me about my colleague Evert Bäckström heading up your investigation, and if you’re wondering how that happened, it was my decision. Bäckström’s worked for me for four years now as the head of the serious crime unit, and that’s the department that’s responsible for murders here. I couldn’t see any reason to go against that.’
‘How has it been, then?’ Lisa Lamm said, smiling amiably.
‘In the time he’s been working for me, he’s been head of the preliminary investigation in twelve murder cases, and he’s cleared up eleven of them. The most recent just a week ago, so there’s nothing for you to worry about there.’
‘No, I understand that he’s supposed to be very effective. What worries me, however, is that he’s had previous dealings with our murder victim that might be regarded as affecting his impartiality. Thomas Eriksson defended Afsan Ibrahim when he and his older brother Farshad, and that heavy whose name I’ve forgotten, were charged with trying to murder Bäckström in his own flat—’
‘Hassan Talib,’ Holt interjected. ‘You’re thinking of Hassan Talib, the Ibrahim brothers’ cousin, and their very own family thug, to use the language of the evening papers.’
‘That’s the one,’ Lamm said. ‘If I’m not mistaken, it took place in early summer … four years ago?’
‘The evening of 29 May,’ Holt confirmed. ‘The trial took place in September the same year, and the only one who ended up being charged was Afsan Ibrahim. As you no doubt already know, his older brother Farshad died trying to escape from the Karolinska Hospital where he was being treated for a gunshot wound he picked up during the attempt to kill Bäckström. He lost his grip and fell six floors when he was trying to climb out of the window using a rope-ladder that had been smuggled in. That was one week after the attack on Bäckström. The same day Farshad tried to escape, Hassan Talib died on the operating table as a result of injuries he suffered during the attack on Bäckström. The only survivor was Afsan, who had driven the other two to Bäckström’s flat on Kungsholmen. He didn’t go into the flat with them but was arrested while he was sitting in the car waiting for them outside the door to Bäckström’s building. That happened more or less at the same time as the shooting started up in the flat. As you also probably know, we already had them under surveillance, so the officers who intervened were inside Bäckström’s flat just a couple of minutes later. Talib was lying unconscious on the floor of Bäckström’s living room. When he tried to shoot Bäckström, Bäckström shoved him back, and he managed to crack his skull against Bäckström’s coffee table. Bäckström shot Farshad in the shin when he was trying to stab Bäckström with a knife. The details are all in this file. Including the two inquiries conducted by Internal Investigations. In which, as you’re again doubtless already aware, Bäckström was cleared on all counts. Everything he did was strictly by the book.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard about all that,’ Lisa Lamm said, pushing away the document folder that Holt had put in front of her. ‘What worries me is what happened in conjunction with the trial. Afsan claimed that they had gone to Bäckström’s to give him money. Not to kill him. Bäckström was being bribed – he was on the Ibrahim brothers’ list of bent cops.’
‘An explanation that the court dismissed as lacking credibility,’ Holt said. ‘And no money was ever found, even though our officers rushed in more or less at the same time everything happened.’<
br />
‘Yes, I know,’ said Lisa Lamm. ‘The court rejected Afsan’s story, but at the same time he was cleared of the charge of attempted murder. Apparently, it couldn’t be ruled out that Afsan genuinely believed that was what was going on. That they were there to bribe Bäckström, not kill him. He was found guilty only on minor charges and got a total of eighteen months in prison. Mainly because he was found to be in possession of ten grams of heroin when he was arrested out in the street. On all other points, the case against him was rejected. If he’d been found guilty, he could have been sentenced to life.’
‘Well,’ Holt said. ‘What the court said when he was found not guilty of attempted murder was that it couldn’t be proved beyond reasonable doubt that he was aware that their intention was actually to murder Bäckström. But sure, Thomas Eriksson did a good job. In the way that became something of a trademark for him when he defended people like Afsan and his friends. Questioning and casting as much doubt on the victim as he possibly could. I’ve been in court and heard him do it, if you’re wondering.’
‘I understand that it was something of a noisy trial. I wasn’t there myself, but—’
‘I was there, as I just said,’ Holt interrupted. ‘And Bäckström was subjected to a whole load of unnecessary crap. He really was. And he was made to go through another internal investigation, where once again he was cleared on all points. I went round to see Bäckström just an hour or so after it had all happened. Forensics were going through his flat, and I have great difficulty believing that he could have hidden a couple of hundred thousand kronor in cash, as Eriksson and his client claimed.’
‘Well, he could hardly have been particularly fond of Thomas Eriksson.’ Lisa Lamm smiled as she said that.
‘No, and he’s not alone in that in the force. If that’s the criterion, then we probably won’t manage to put together an investigating team at all. Practically every officer you talk to believes that Thomas Eriksson was an even bigger crook than the people he defended.’
‘I couldn’t have put it better myself,’ Lisa Lamm said. ‘The problem of partiality in a nutshell.’
‘Certainly, that’s one side of it. The other side is that Bäckström will get this cleared up. Given that he’s already convinced that it was the victim’s own criminal activities that led to him being murdered, and that he’ll soon be able to prove it. The last thing you need to worry about is that he might try to turn this into an unsolved case. In Bäckström’s world, this is a gangland killing.’
‘Which hardly makes it less of a problem.’
‘No,’ Holt said. ‘But it’s a mild westerly breeze compared to the shit-storm we’ll get if you try to have Bäckström replaced by a different lead investigator. Think about it, Lisa,’ Holt said. ‘Bäckström’s a legend, and if you pull him off the case you’ll have the whole force against you. Not to mention the public. The Swedish people’s very own Clint Eastwood,’ Holt concluded with a gentle smile.
‘Okay, that doesn’t sound great.’ Lisa Lamm nodded. ‘Do you know what?’ Lisa Lamm smiled at Holt.
‘What?’
‘I’m almost looking forward to working with him. The person, the man, the legend.’
‘Good luck,’ Holt said with a wry smile.
23
The first meeting of the investigating team, and at twelve o’clock precisely Detective Superintendent Evert Bäckström had walked into the large meeting room, sat down at the end of the table, welcomed them all and handed over to Annika Carlsson, as his acting lead detective.
‘All yours, Annika,’ Bäckström said, leaning back in his chair and making himself comfortable, folding his hands over his stomach as he looked round the group. As usual, they were mainly lazy, mentally deficient dullards, but in spite of that this was going to be the best day of his life, he thought. The only light in the darkness around him was probably his very own little Jenny, who had swapped her black top for a red one.
‘Thanks,’ Annika Carlsson said with a nod. ‘We’re dealing with a murder here, and this is what we know so far. Our victim is the lawyer, Thomas Eriksson, forty-eight years old, single, no children, and not exactly unknown to anyone sitting round this table. He was murdered in his home at Ålstensgatan 127 out in Bromma, probably yesterday evening. Cause of death appears to be a blow to the back of the head with a blunt object, according to the preliminary report from the medical officer. The motive is unknown, but so far there’s nothing to suggest that it was a burglary or break-in that went wrong. The identity of the culprit or culprits remains to be discovered. And that’s why you’re sitting here, in case anyone was wondering.’
Annika Carlsson looked up from her papers and nodded to the group.
‘As far as the more precise details are concerned, I was thinking that Peter could go through them for you,’ Annika Carlsson said as Anna Holt opened the door and stepped in, accompanied by the prosecutor in charge of the preliminary investigation, Lisa Lamm.
‘I don’t want to interrupt,’ Holt said. ‘I just wanted to introduce the head of the preliminary investigation, Lisa, or rather Chief Prosecutor Lisa Lamm, to be more formal. I’ve got to run. But I’m counting on you to sort this out.’
Good-looking girl, Annika Carlsson thought. Petite, short blond hair, smartly and correctly dressed in a skirt, blouse and jacket in matching shades of white and blue. Forty years old at most, to judge by her appearance, bright eyes and, according to rumour, she was unmarried and had no children. Might be a chance here, she thought.
‘Welcome, Lisa,’ Annika Carlsson said, nodding and smiling. ‘Sit down and make yourself at home,’ she went on, gesturing towards an empty chair at the other end of the table.
‘Thanks,’ said Lisa Lamm, sitting down. ‘I’m sorry I’m late. Don’t let me interrupt,’ she went on. She smiled and nodded to the group. ‘Please, go on …’
‘Good,’ Bäckström said curtly. ‘You’re very welcome.’ Ten minutes fucked because she can’t get here on time, Bäckström thought, and Anchor Carlsson, the unit’s very own attack dyke, was evidently already on a mission. Little Lamm’s going to have to watch herself if she wants to avoid getting caught in her clutches.
‘Peter Niemi is head of forensics here in Solna,’ Bäckström said, waving his whole hand towards the man in question. ‘Give us the usual about when, where and how.’
‘Sure,’ Niemi said. ‘But there’ll be a few reservations, seeing as my colleague Hernandez and I have only been on the case for eight hours, but this is how it looks so far. The estimated time of the crime is approximately quarter to ten yesterday evening. The scene of the crime is most probably the upstairs landing of the victim’s home on Ålstensgatan. The cause of death, according to the medical officer’s preliminary report, is trauma to the head and neck caused by a blunt instrument, which probably knocked him unconscious immediately and caused death within a minute or so.’
‘And why do we think that?’ Bäckström said, sinking even deeper into his chair.
For various reasons, according to Peter Niemi. Four main reasons, to be specific, and he began to explain them in order of occurrence.
Their victim appeared to be someone who was very conscious of his personal security. The house was fitted with motion sensors, cameras and an emergency alarm, and all the doors and windows were alarmed.
‘This is the main entrance to the house,’ Niemi said, and tapped at his computer to bring up a picture of the victim’s front door on the large screen at one end of the room. ‘There are no signs of a break-in, and the perimeter alarms were active throughout the whole of Sunday, until two minutes to nine that evening, when someone, most probably Eriksson himself, if you’re wondering, switched off the alarm on the front door and let in one or more visitors.
‘Two minutes to nine,’ Niemi repeated. ‘That’s when someone arrives at the house, so that’s our first fixed time.’
At twenty minutes to ten the emergency control room received a call from the victim’s mobile phone. The call wa
s cut off a minute later without any contact from whoever made the call.
‘Emergency control doesn’t do anything about the call, for the simple reason that about half of all calls they receive are made by mistake, and another twenty per cent are what they call silent calls, where they never have any contact with whoever makes the call. They only respond if there’s reason to suspect that the person calling is in an emergency situation but for some reason is unable to speak. So in this instance they don’t do anything. But there’s reason to suspect that Eriksson is ringing for help but is beaten to death before he has time to say anything. Twenty to ten, forty-two minutes after admitting one, two or more visitors,’ Niemi said.
At six o’clock in the morning, some eight hours later, the medical officer arrived at the scene of the crime to conduct a preliminary examination of the body. The victim’s face and neck already exhibited full rigor mortis, and, bearing in mind the temperature inside the house, the medical officer concluded that death had occurred at least six hours earlier, sometime during Sunday evening, before midnight.
‘When he was at the scene we didn’t know about Eriksson’s alarm call, of course, made at twenty to ten, so I called him an hour or so ago and told him about it,’ Niemi explained. ‘He had no difficulty accepting that as the likely time. For when Eriksson was killed, I mean.’
‘Twenty to ten on Sunday evening,’ Bäckström summarized. Niemi’s not totally thick, even though he must be at least half-Finnish, to judge by his name, he thought.
‘Anything else?’ he asked.
‘Yes. There seem to have been a lot of calls yesterday evening, to the emergency control room, I mean. Between quarter past ten and five past eleven, three of Eriksson’s neighbours called to complain that his dog was running around on the terrace of his house, barking like mad. So Eriksson had a dog. A Rottweiler, a vicious beast, in case anyone’s not sure.’
‘So what did they do then?’ Bäckström asked, although he had already guessed the answer.
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