The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

by Mari Jungstedt

  ‘So they weren’t just tossed there?’ asked Kihlgård. ‘They were folded up, nice and neat?’

  Jacobsson nodded.

  ‘What about the bicycle? Have they found it?’

  ‘No, they haven’t.’

  Kihlgård looked thoughtful. He took a banana from the fruit platter on the table, peeled it slowly, and then said: ‘Maybe Stina Ek contacted someone. She must have been ecstatic about finding Bergman’s house. What would you do in that sort of situation?’ Kihlgård waved the banana in the air as he went on. ‘You’d want to share the experience with somebody. So she phoned someone. The question is: Who? And why did she take off her clothes? Apparently she did it voluntarily. It was planned.’

  ‘Her husband?’ suggested Wittberg. ‘Maybe she was bold enough to want to have a tryst out there.’

  ‘Or … could it have been someone else?’ suggested Jacobsson. ‘Someone she was having an affair with? Sam Dahlberg, for instance? He was such a Bergman fanatic. Maybe that was something they shared.’

  ‘What if he was the one? Who went out there, I mean. Where was Andrea Dahlberg at that time?’

  Jacobsson leafed through her notes.

  ‘She was at the Bergman Centre in the late afternoon. That’s where she ran into an old friend from school. They had coffee together, so she wouldn’t have noticed if her husband slipped away. He could probably have been away for at least a couple of hours without drawing attention.’

  ‘Have we talked to this childhood friend?’ asked Kihlgård.

  ‘It’s been very difficult to get hold of her,’ Jacobsson admitted, noticing to her chagrin that her face had turned crimson.

  ‘Do we know this person’s name?’ Kihlgård patiently went on.

  ‘Andrea Dahlberg couldn’t remember her name, and she found it embarrassing to ask. Of course we’ve gone through the class lists from Andrea’s school years in order to pinpoint this person. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have any school photos from that time. That would have made it easy.’

  ‘Because I think it’s really strange,’ Kihlgård stubbornly continued. ‘On that afternoon Stina Ek meets an old friend from her school days – or from middle school, to be more specific – and the two of them go to a restaurant together. Then at almost exactly the same time Andrea Dahlberg runs into a childhood friend and they have coffee together at the Bergman Centre. Doesn’t it seem a bit odd?’

  ‘Who provided us with this information?’ asked Prosecutor Smittenberg.

  ‘Both Håkan Ek and Andrea Dahlberg.’

  ‘Håkan and Andrea – the spouses of the two murder victims,’ muttered Kihlgård. ‘Quite a coincidence.’

  ‘Yes, you might say that,’ replied Jacobsson. ‘Let’s stay with Andrea Dahlberg for a moment. She contacted the police over the weekend after she received that phone call from an unknown man who was apparently right outside her door. We need to check up on that. I want us to knock on more doors in the neighbourhood and talk to people who live in Terra Nova, to find out if anyone saw anything suspicious. Evidently Andrea has felt someone watching her for quite a while. Up until Friday night, she had dismissed it as just her imagination. But not any more. We’ve asked her to stay with a relative or a good friend for the time being, but she refused. At least the children are staying elsewhere.’

  ‘Did she recognize the voice?’

  ‘No. The person who called seemed to be disguising his voice.’

  ‘I went out there to talk to her, and she was really upset. But she had no idea who the person could be,’ said Kihlgård. ‘And none of the neighbours had noticed anything unusual.’

  ‘Then there’s Valter Olsson. We need to work out how he fits into the picture,’ Jacobsson went on. ‘We also need to knock on doors in both Hammars and Dämba – in fact, all of Fårö. From Broa up to Sudersand. We’ve received surprisingly few leads so far. We can only hope that the discovery of Stina’s body will jump-start things. We’ve checked out everyone’s alibi, but we’ll have to do it again. And if it’s true that Sam and Stina were having an affair, then there are two people of key interest to the investigation at the moment. Andrea Dahlberg and Håkan Ek.’

  THE PHONE CALL that Johan Berg had been longing to receive finally came on the day after Stina Ek was found murdered in Hammars. He never would have thought that he’d be so happy to hear the voice of Max Grenfors, editor-in-chief in Stockholm.

  ‘Hi, how’s it going? Listen, we’re swamped right now because of the murders on Gotland, and we don’t have anybody else to send. Here at TV headquarters it’s swarming with summer replacements, and we can’t do without the few good reporters we have. Not a chance. So could you possibly fill in? Just for a couple of days, until the worst blows over. We’ve already sent over another cameraperson for Maddie, so you can take Pia with you.’

  Johan paused before answering. He was enjoying keeping his boss, who was usually so overbearing, on tenterhooks.

  ‘Hmm. I’m not sure. I’ve got a lot to do, with the kids and all.’

  ‘OK, you can consider the whole job as overtime. Every fucking hour of it. That means double pay.’

  ‘That’ll work. When do I start?’

  ‘Right now. The police have scheduled a press conference in an hour.’

  Fortunately it was no problem for Emma to take care of the kids. Her parents were out of town, as usual, so she had already planned to drive out to their house on Fårö for a few days. Her best friend, Viveka, was going with her so she wouldn’t be there alone. The weather was sunny and warm, which meant they’d have a good time. The house was in a beautiful location, right on the beach. That eased his guilty conscience. So far he’d managed to make it through a month at home with the children without working. But he wondered again how he was going to make it through the lengthy paternity leave from his job as planned.

  At the same time he couldn’t help revelling in the adrenalin rush. He loved his job, especially when things were happening. Like now. Up until today the editorial office had kept him out of the summer’s big murder case. He’d offered to contribute in one way or another, but he’d been refused. He wasn’t needed even when he got the tip from Arne Gustavsson. But now they were tooting a different horn. He was in demand, so it was no wonder that he was feeling pleased.

  The important thing was to get up to speed before the press conference. He rang Pia as soon as he got into his car.

  ‘God, it’s so great that you can do this,’ she panted.

  He assumed that she was on her way over to the car.

  ‘Maddie has booked a super-important interview on Fårö, so she had to go out there right away.’

  ‘What could be a higher priority than attending the press conference?’

  ‘The thing is, the Latvian police are arriving on Fårö today, in just a couple of hours, and she was incredibly lucky to get the investigative team leader to promise her an interview. It was set up just a little while ago.’

  ‘What the hell are you babbling about? The Latvian police? What do they have to do with any of this?’

  ‘Oh, I forgot. You wouldn’t know about that. Here’s what happened. A fisherman who’s friends with one of my uncles told him that an old fisherman from Fårö was washed ashore in Latvia, in his rowing boat. Dead. And apparently he was murdered. The Latvian police are handling the case, but they’re cooperating with the police force over here.’

  ‘Good Lord, what a mess. So I assume there must be some sort of connection between the two murders. What are the police doing out there today?’

  ‘After we got the tip, Maddie rang Latvia, and she talked to some guy on the police force who surprisingly gave her a lot of information. The police are going over to the old man’s house on Fårö today. And it was on his property that Stina Ek’s body was buried. And you know what? The old man was a neighbour of Ingmar Bergman.’

  Johan’s pulse quickened. The story kept getting better and better. And once again they’d had the benefit of knowing Pia Lilja’s extende
d family, who lived all over the island. Her six siblings and all her other relatives were a reporter’s dream as a source of information.

  ‘When was he found?’

  ‘I have no idea. Maddie knows more, but she’s on her way to the airport right now to pick up the cameraperson from Stockholm. But anybody can see that it’s absolutely certain he was murdered and that his death is connected to the other murders. This is turning out to be big, Johan. A fucking big story.’

  THE ROOM WAS packed for the press conference. The buzz of voices subsided when Jacobsson, Kihlgård and County Police Chief Malin Lundblad took their seats on the podium. The tension in the air was palpable. All the major media organizations in Sweden were represented: TV, radio and the newspapers. The microphones had been set up and cameras positioned as the reporters sat ready with their notepads.

  Jacobsson opened a bottle of Ramlösa mineral water and poured herself a glass. She took several big sips. Even though there were so many people crowded into the room, it was dead silent as she finally began to speak.

  ‘At four fifteen yesterday afternoon, Stina Ek’s body was found. She had been missing since Saturday, the twenty-eighth of June. There is no doubt that she was the victim of foul play. The body was discovered in Hammars on Fårö on private land, next door to Ingmar Bergman’s property. Since rumours have been circulating that her body was found on Bergman’s land, I just want to clarify immediately that this was not the case. The cause of death has not yet been determined, but the victim’s injuries indicate that she suffered a traumatic blow to the head. The body has been taken to the Forensics Division in Solna for examination. A large area surrounding the site has been cordoned off, and police crime technicians are working to secure evidence. The victim was a thirty-seven-year-old mother of two. She was married and lived with her family in Terra Nova in Visby. Stina was employed as a flight attendant on Scandinavian Airlines. She has no previous police record and, as far as we know, had no connection to the place where her body was found. She was last seen on the day when she disappeared, meaning Saturday, the twenty-eighth, at around four p.m. At that time she was riding a bicycle past a nearby farm. The police are currently in the process of knocking on doors in the area and, as I mentioned, the technicians are now on site.’

  Jacobsson paused and looked out at the crowd of reporters. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on her, and for a moment she lost her train of thought. Then she collected herself and went on.

  ‘At this time the police have no suspects, and we’re working on a broad front. You’re now welcome to ask questions. I need to request that you raise your hand, otherwise it’s going to be impossible to keep order.’

  Hands began eagerly waving in the air. Jacobsson wanted to answer as many questions as she could. She had the help of two officers who each had a microphone to take questions from reporters in the back of the room.

  ‘Exactly where was she found?’

  ‘I can’t discuss that at the moment.’

  ‘How was the body found?’

  ‘Police dogs located the remains.’

  ‘How did you happen to know where to search?’

  ‘Due to the ongoing investigation, I’m afraid that I can’t answer that question.’

  ‘She was found very close to Ingmar Bergman’s property. Is there any reason to think that someone from Bergman’s family was involved?’

  ‘There are no indications that any of Bergman’s relatives or friends have anything to do with the murder.’

  ‘Is there any connection between Stina Ek and the owner of the property where she was found? Or between her and Ingmar Bergman?’

  ‘Not that we know of.’

  ‘What if you go further back in time? For instance, could she be an unknown daughter of his?’

  ‘I think we can rule out that possibility. Stina Ek was adopted from Vietnam.’

  ‘Why do you think she was killed at that particular site?’

  ‘If we knew that, we’d be making good progress in the case.’

  ‘Did the murdered woman have a particular interest in Bergman?’

  ‘Not as far as we know.’

  ‘Apparently Stina Ek was a member of an Internet club called Friends of Bergman. Do you know anything about that?’

  Jacobsson fixed her eyes on Johan Berg from Regional News. Was he back on the job? It was so typical that he’d come up with something like that. She was completely unprepared for the question. She hadn’t heard anything about it before. For several seconds she was at a total loss for words, but then she recovered her composure.

  ‘In the early stages of an investigation, it’s a matter of collecting a lot of facts from all possible directions. We look at everything and carefully weigh the significance of all the information. That’s the phase we’re in at present. Stina Ek’s body was found yesterday afternoon, less than twenty-four hours ago. We’re going to be following all possible leads.’

  ‘But you haven’t answered my question,’ Johan persisted.

  ‘Precisely,’ Jacobsson curtly replied and then turned to another reporter.

  ‘What can you tell us about how the murder was committed?’

  ‘Only that the perpetrator used a blunt instrument to deliver a blow to the victim’s head.’

  ‘Did the body have other injuries?’

  ‘Not that we know about at the moment. We’ll need to wait for the post-mortem report.’

  ‘Are you positive that she was killed where her body was found? Or could she have been taken there from some other place?’

  ‘We’re quite certain about that. The murder was committed at the scene. Traces of blood and other evidence clearly indicate this.’

  ‘What does the property owner have to say?’

  Jacobsson’s face changed colour. She was prepared for the question, but the investigative team had decided not to reveal anything about the fact that Valter Olsson had been found murdered in Latvia. They needed to take one thing at a time.

  ‘Due to the ongoing investigation, I won’t discuss that at the moment.’

  An increased tension was clearly evident in the room. The reporters took Jacobsson’s response to mean that Olsson was a suspect.

  ‘Who owns the property where she was found?’

  ‘He’s an elderly man, seventy-five years old, who lives there alone and spends most of his time fishing. I have nothing else to say.’

  ‘Were he and Bergman good friends?’

  ‘I’m not going to discuss their relationship.’

  ‘Is the property owner a suspect?’

  ‘I can’t comment any further on the subject. Let’s move on to something else.’

  ‘Do you have information from any witnesses?’

  ‘At the moment we’re collecting statements, but we’ve just begun that part of the work.’

  ‘What are the police doing now?’

  ‘We’re undertaking a proper investigation – which means carrying out a technical examination of the crime scene, interviewing potential witnesses, knocking on doors in the area, and finding out the details of Stina Ek’s life, including what she was doing in the period before she disappeared. In addition, we are of course looking at the significance of the crime scene itself.’

  ‘How is this connected with the murder of Sam Dahlberg?’

  ‘Naturally we see a link between the two homicides, since both victims belonged to the same social circle.’

  ‘Do you think they were killed by the same person?’

  ‘We’re not ruling that out, but we can’t assume that it was the same perpetrator. As I said, we’re working on a broad front, and keeping all doors open.’

  Jacobsson was beginning to tire of all the questions. The police didn’t have much to say. She cast an enquiring glance at the county police chief, who took the hint and gave an almost imperceptible nod. It was time to end the press conference.

  ‘All right then. That’s all we have to say at the moment. Depending on how things develop, we’re planni
ng another press conference for tomorrow since there’s such great interest in the case. We will not be available to do individual interviews, since we need to devote all of our energy to the investigation. I hope you’ll respect this decision. If you have any further questions, please direct them to the police spokesman, Lars Norrby.’ She motioned towards her colleague, who hadn’t uttered a single word during the entire conference. Then Jacobsson got up and quickly left the room.

  In the corridor outside she found her way blocked by Johan Berg and Pia Lilja, who had her eye pressed to the TV camera, as usual.

  ‘Karin, I need to ask you about something,’ he said with a serious expression.

  Foolishly enough, she stopped.

  Johan spoke directly into the microphone.

  ‘Sources tell me that a murdered Swedish man was found drifting ashore in a rowing boat off the Latvian coast. The man was supposedly Ingmar Bergman’s closest neighbour, and from what I understand, he also owns the property where Stina Ek’s body was found. His name is Valter Olsson. What can you tell us about this?’

  He held out the microphone to Jacobsson.

  She was dumbfounded.

  With a wave of her hand she pushed the microphone aside and quickly strode off down the corridor.

  JACOBSSON WAS ANNOYED that the press conference had ended in such an ignominious fashion. She hated being caught completely off guard like that. It was a mystery how Johan Berg had found out that Valter Olsson’s body had been discovered in Latvia. Norrby, she thought. Had he blabbed again? The police spokesman had in the past displayed a tendency to talk too much. But surely he couldn’t be that stupid. And she hadn’t known anything about that group called the Friends of Bergman. She had immediately asked Wittberg to check up on the association, which turned out to have a website on the Internet. Stina was listed as a new member.

  She leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands. She shut her eyes, allowing images from the investigation to come and go in her mind. Sam Dahlberg’s mangled body out on Stora Karlsö, pecked apart by seabirds. The well-kept neighbourhood of Terra Nova with the friends who stuck together, come hell or high water. What were they hiding? Valter Olsson, who’d gone out fishing and then floated ashore in Latvia. The Bergman festival with all the social functions and film showings. Stina Ek who disappeared on her bicycle and whose body was found on land next door to Ingmar Bergman’s property. They had finally discovered her bike in the woods outside the fence. What happened to her on her way over there? Who did she meet?