by Karin Nordin
Gunnar hesitated. His expression was wary and he watched Kjeld as though he half expected him to lash out. And if those were indeed his thoughts then he wasn’t entirely wrong in his assumption. Kjeld did want to hit him. He wanted to knock him upside the head for causing his father more grief than necessary. Kjeld gave him enough grief. Stenar didn’t need an inept police officer piling on more trouble and adding to his confusion. He wanted to thrash Gunnar for being a worthless investigator. Worthless because if he had just listened to Stenar in the first place then all of this would be over. It would be solved or shelved and Kjeld would still be in Gothenburg, none the wiser.
‘Kjeld, I think you should sit down,’ Gunnar said. His voice was smooth. Slow. It was missing that coarse edge of a man who wanted to impose his ego on others. What was that tone in his voice? Concern?
‘I don’t need to fuckin’ sit down. I need to know what you know about the Lindqvists.’ Those were the words Kjeld thought he said, but what came out of his mouth was something else entirely. Something that didn’t make any sense at all.
‘I can’t understand what you’re saying, Kjeld. You’re speaking gibberish.’
Kjeld laughed. Gibberish? He didn’t know what Gunnar was talking about. Gunnar was the one who wasn’t coherent. He was the one who wasn’t making any sense.
The drumming started again. Hard, pounding clanks against the inside of his skull. He saw Gunnar swaying in front of him like a flag in a breeze. His stomach churned and a metallic taste filled his mouth. And the last thing he remembered was Gunnar’s arms reaching for him before he blacked out.
* * *
A bright light flashed over his eyes and Kjeld blinked awake. His vision was slow to return, but when it did he saw himself staring up into a pair of dark brown eyes. Then Doctor Goswami flicked the pen light to the side.
‘Welcome back, Detective.’
Kjeld rolled his head. He was lying on a bed in the emergency room, a green curtain half closed to block out the other patients in the room. Gunnar stood in the corner with his arms crossed. He looked irked. Maybe constipated. Possibly both.
‘What happened?’ Kjeld tried to sit up, but his head felt heavy and he slumped back down.
‘Take it easy,’ Goswami said. He reached underneath the bed and pressed a button that allowed it to tilt upward. Then he pushed a pillow behind Kjeld’s upper back to give him more support. ‘You’ve suffered a serious blow to the head.’
‘I know,’ Kjeld grumbled. ‘Why am I here?’
‘You blacked out, dumbass,’ Gunnar said. He stepped over to the side of the bed and looked down at Kjeld, his lips pursed so tightly that his mouth practically disappeared.
Definitely constipated.
‘Do you remember when you were injured?’ Goswami pulled up Kjeld’s shirt and placed a stethoscope to his chest.
‘Last night.’
‘You’re such a goddamn idiot.’ Gunnar sneered.
‘You’re lucky someone was there to catch you,’ Goswami said. ‘You have a concussion. It could have caused brain damage if you didn’t get it looked at.’
‘He’s already brain-damaged,’ Gunnar said.
Kjeld tried to glare at his old friend, but the effort required too much energy. And it hurt. Instead he focused his attention on the doctor. ‘I thought you were a cardiologist.’
‘It’s a small town. We all wear multiple hats.’ Goswami tucked the stethoscope into the pocket of his white coat.
‘I have to get out of here,’ Kjeld said.
Goswami placed a palm on Kjeld’s chest, preventing him from trying to get up. ‘You need to rest. Don’t exert yourself. I’m going to write you a prescription for some pain relievers. I want you to stay here for another hour or two until the headache begins to dissipate. Then Inspector Ek can drive you home.’
‘My dad can’t be home alone.’
‘I called your sister,’ Gunnar said. ‘She’s over there with him.’
Kjeld groaned and leaned back against the pillow. Just another thing for Sara to hold against him with regards to their father.
‘Try to take it easy,’ Goswami said. ‘I’ll have a nurse write up the discharge papers.’
The doctor pulled back the curtain the rest of the way and headed off to the nurses’ station.
Kjeld looked over at Gunnar and offered a pathetic excuse for an apologetic glance. Technically it was more of a scowl, but he would blame that on the bongo drums beating in his brain. ‘Thanks.’
Gunnar pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed. ‘Do you remember how you got that injury?’
‘Pretty sure someone hit me with a rock. Fuckin’ big one too by the way it feels.’
‘Who?’
‘I don’t know. It was dark. A man. Few inches shorter than me. I think he was wearing some kind of metal shield on his chest.’
‘Why do you say that?’
Kjeld held up his right hand, dark with bruises over the knuckles. ‘Because when I punched him it was like hitting a brick wall.’
‘Where did you punch him? Left side? Right side?’
‘For Chrissakes, Gunnar. What is this, the third degree? In the chest. I can’t remember. My right, his left I suppose.’ It didn’t make sense for Kjeld to punch diagonally across a chest. Then again it had been dark and it had been a scuffle. He could have been wrong.
Gunnar nodded his head. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. The look of contemplative constipation was back. From his position on the bed Kjeld could see the bald patch that Gunnar tried to cover up with his ridiculous comb-over and volumising hair-care products. If Kjeld ever started going bald he would just shave it all off.
‘What is this about, Gunnar?’
Gunnar glanced out into the room beyond the open curtain, watching as nurses and orderlies made their way from one bed to the next. Replacing IVs, checking stats, refilling water bottles. When he finally turned his attention back to Kjeld the unconscious strain on his face was gone, replaced by weary ease. Like a man who was relieved to get something off his chest.
‘I think it was David Lindqvist who you punched.’
Kjeld grabbed on to the side rails and pulled himself up to a sitting position. ‘David Lindqvist?’
‘I got a call from Roland Lindqvist last night. He told me that David admitted to killing a man. Until I saw you standing at the front door I assumed it was you he’d killed.’
‘Let me guess,’ Kjeld said, his scowl still present. ‘You were coming by to ensure that my untimely death didn’t incriminate the pinnacles-of-Varsund-society Lindqvists?’
Gunnar gave a deliberate exhalation, shame written all over his face. ‘That’s what they wanted me to do.’
‘And I’m sure you always do what they tell you to do, don’t you? You’re such a good dog.’
‘It’s not that simple, Kjeld.’
‘Woof, woof, good dog.’
‘Jesus, give me a break. Somehow he found out about what happened during our traineeship. I don’t know how. I don’t even want to know how. But the threat was more than implied that if I didn’t keep David’s name out of Peter’s death, he would bring that incident to light.’
The fact that Gunnar referred to their informant’s untimely murder as an incident grated on Kjeld, but he held his tongue. That was in the past. There wasn’t anything he could do about that now. But this situation with his father and the Lindqvists? That was something Kjeld was determined to see through and set right. Whatever right ended up being.
‘Why are you telling me this?’ Kjeld asked. It didn’t fit his perception of Gunnar. Gunnar wasn’t the type to confess to a wrongdoing, especially if keeping a secret would serve his own agenda.
‘I’m not proud of some of the decisions I’ve made over the years. I thought that if I ignored them, they would go away. But one thing led to another and another. Eventually I realised there was no going back. This was who I was. I’d made my choice. Just as I’m sure you’ve made yours
over the years.’ Gunnar looked down at the floor. ‘But when I thought you were dead I was angry. You worked hard to get out of here only to come back and get killed by some arsehole? That’s not right. And then when you answered that door I was so shocked. I said to myself, “This isn’t worth it.” The Lindqvists aren’t worth it.’
Kjeld’s usual knack for coming up with a snarky retort failed him. Instead he settled for blunt honesty. ‘That doesn’t make up for anything.’
‘I know.’
But maybe it was a start to resolving some of the conflicts between them.
‘So, Roland was blackmailing you to cover up any implication that David might have been involved in Peter’s death. Including, apparently, my own unintentional murder, I’m assuming,’ Kjeld said.
‘Unintentional?’
‘I’ve been in enough scraps to know when someone is trying to kill me and when they’re just scrambling.’
‘Roland thought that since your father would never serve prison time as a result of his mental condition, it wouldn’t do any harm to only document the evidence that correlated with the theory that your father was involved. That way everyone would be protected in the end.’ The more he spoke the less convinced Gunnar sounded of his own words.
‘No harm?’ Kjeld gave a cruel laugh. Then he paused. He forced his mind to push through the pressure in his skull and think. ‘And was there any evidence? Was there anything that suggested David was responsible?’
‘None that I could find so far.’
‘And my father?’
‘Nothing that could warrant a conviction. Almost everything we found was circumstantial.’
Everything except the car, Kjeld thought. The car could topple everything. Fingerprints aside, there was no telling what kind of evidence might be hidden under that tarp.
‘Then what makes Roland so convinced that his son is responsible for his brother’s death?’
It didn’t make sense to Kjeld. Kjeld couldn’t see a motive. And if his brawl with David was any clue to the type of person he was, then Kjeld was almost positive that David didn’t possess the intelligence to pull off murdering a man, leaving almost no trace that he’d done it, and keeping it secret for five years.
‘I don’t know,’ Gunnar said with a shrug. ‘He didn’t tell me. But he did tell me that David admitted to killing a man in the woods.’
‘Very unsuccessfully killing a man in the woods, thankfully.’
‘Regardless, I can bring him in for assault if you want to press charges.’
‘Won’t that put you at odds with Roland?’
‘Probably.’ Gunnar looked down at his hands before leaning back into the chair. ‘But we’ve been down this road before and I can’t do it again.’
‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’
‘I know we haven’t been friends for a long time, but I’m trying to be straight with you. You didn’t talk back then. You didn’t give us up. You could have, but you didn’t. I appreciate that. I do. I’ve made something of myself here in Varsund. It’s not what I thought I wanted when I was younger, but I like it. And I owe you for that.’
Kjeld searched Gunnar’s expression for some sign that he, too, had suffered sleepless nights over their decision to plant evidence against the man who killed their informant. A man who was guilty on many counts, and almost assuredly of the young woman’s death as well, but who by all rights of law should have walked free. That act had eaten away at Kjeld for years. He still sometimes caught himself trying to make up for it in his other cases. Doing his utmost to accumulate all the actual evidence he could on a suspect before bringing them in. He didn’t like loose ends. But when Kjeld looked at Gunnar he couldn’t tell if it was guilt over covering up someone’s involvement in a murder that bothered him or the fact that the supposed someone was in a class above him. As though wealth and elitism somehow entitled a person to a different set of laws. Kjeld suspected it was the latter that irked Gunnar more than the act of breaking the law. And that the nod to Kjeld’s own involvement in Gunnar’s current status was more of an afterthought.
But maybe Gunnar deserved the benefit of the doubt.
‘There’s one thing I don’t understand.’
Gunnar canted his head to the side.
‘Why would David come after me in the first place? If there’s no evidence against him in the murder of his uncle then there’s no reason to get rid of me.’
Even if it was true that Norrmalm Industries was illegally mining on his father’s property, it didn’t make sense for David to try and kill him. What was the worst that could happen? He’d be served a fine for violation of property borders? That would have been a pittance in money compared to what Norrmalm was worth.
Gunnar didn’t answer.
‘Unless it’s not his uncle’s death that he believes is worth killing for.’ Kjeld thought of the contract that had been taken from him during the fight.
Gunnar pulled a face. ‘What then?’
‘I’m not entirely certain,’ Kjeld said, scratching at the fresh bandage on his palm. ‘But I’d be willing to bet that money has something to do with it.’
Gunnar stood up. ‘Well, whatever the reason, it’ll come out during the interrogation.’
Kjeld noted a different kind of confidence in Gunnar then. Less pompous, more resolute. The way he’d been before the scandal that almost pre-emptively ruined their careers. And Kjeld knew that if he was ever going to be honest with him, now was the time.
‘There’s something else I have to tell you,’ Kjeld said, hoping he wouldn’t regret his decision. ‘I found a vehicle hidden on my father’s property.’
‘You what?’
‘I can’t say for certain who it belongs to, but I suspect it might be Peter Lindqvist’s.’
‘Fuck, Kjeld.’ Gunnar took out his phone, scrolling his contacts for the number of the crime-scene technicians. ‘What model of car is it?’
‘Silver Mercedes. I have a photo on my phone. I can send it to you.’
Gunnar stopped himself before dialling. ‘You know what it’ll look like if we find your father’s prints on that car.’
‘I know,’ Kjeld said, his heart heavy with grief. ‘I know.’
Chapter 49
Kjeld was standing in line at the pharmacy, ripping off the hospital name band from his wrist, when Esme came rushing through the electronic doors. She’d called him thirty minutes prior to tell him about what she discovered at the planning office but, after Kjeld’s interruption explaining that he was in the hospital, she said she’d be there right away and hung up on him before he could say more. When she hurried up to him at the pharmacy counter, her face was peaked and her cheeks flushed. She leaned onto the counter to catch her breath. The pharmacist gave her a stern look and motioned to the red privacy line on the floor.
‘It’s all right,’ Kjeld said to the pharmacist who continued to scan his medications. He didn’t care who in Varsund knew that he was receiving extra-strength Ibuprofen for the bump on the back of his head. There were far worse secrets that the people of his former hometown could uncover. Hell, they probably already had.
The pharmacist packaged up the medications in a bag and passed them over the counter.
Kjeld stuffed the bag under his arm and led Esme to the row of seats in the hospital lobby.
‘Are you okay?’ Esme asked, nodding to the medical tape on his forehead. ‘Is it safe for you to be leaving the hospital.’
Kjeld shook his prescription bag, the pills clattering against the inside of the bottle. ‘A going-away present.’
‘I’m serious, Kjeld.’
‘So am I. I’m sick and tired of coming up with nothing but the vague inkling that the Lindqvists and Norrmalm Industries are somehow more involved in the body of Peter Lindqvist being buried in my father’s barn and no evidence to support it. It’s time to go directly to the source. I need to know what happened and I need to know how it involves my father.’ Kjeld unclasped the prescripti
on bottle, popped two tablets in his mouth, and swallowed them dry. The tablets slid down his throat uncomfortably, leaving behind a powdery layer on the top of his tongue that tasted like chalk.
Esme reached over and took the bottle and the prescription bag out of his hands, stuffing them in her purse.
‘It’s just Ibuprofen,’ Kjeld said. His tone was curt, terser than he’d intended.
‘I know.’ Esme removed a large envelope from her purse. Inside was a duplicate copy of the geographical survey done on the Nygaard property as well as one for the land owned by Norrmalm. ‘Did you know that land surveys are available for public access? I didn’t. So, I not only requested the most recent one conducted on your father’s land, but for Norrmalm Industries as well.’
Kjeld nodded.
‘The last time Norrmalm Industries had their property surveyed was going on fifteen years ago when they purchased some undeveloped land around the eastern edges of Varsund’s town limits.’
‘Sara did mention that they’d increased mining activities around the area. But that’s on the other side of town. That’s nowhere near my dad’s place.’
‘Right, and even if it had been, it’s a much deeper quarry. I drove by it after I stopped at the planning office. You definitely wouldn’t have been walking out of that one after taking a tumble.’
‘Guess I got lucky.’
‘You have no idea.’ Esme sat forward on the chair and shuffled through the papers until she came to one that looked like an invoice spreadsheet. ‘These are all of Norrmalm’s land purchases in the last fifty years. Also a matter of public record thanks to their corporate status.’
Kjeld leaned over to read the print. ‘My dad’s place isn’t on there.’
‘Exactly! That’s why I looked at the survey for your dad’s property again and this is where it gets a little bit weird.’ Esme handed him a thick document he hadn’t seen before.
Kjeld skimmed over the first page and then flipped through the multiple pages of detailed scientific information. ‘I don’t understand. Concentrations of aluminium, iron, nickel, gold? What is this? A mineralogical report?’
‘Metallurgical, actually. Look at the date.’