Grendel's Game (11 page)

“Will do,” said Holm, rising and heading for the door.

“And Enar, if I'm pushing you too hard, let me know. Really.”

“It's not a problem, Chief.” If it ever was, of course, he'd never say anything, Ekman thought.

18

Concerns

T
urning to his stacked in-box, Ekman began sorting through it. Most were routine reports sent to him for his information. He flipped through them, but there was nothing of importance. Initialing them, he put them in his out-basket. There were, however, several personnel matters he had to deal with, and these he set to one side. They involved performance reports and promotion recommendations he'd have to act on soon. All of this was the bureaucratic drudgery he longed to get rid of, but there was only so much he could pass to Holm. Some things were his unavoidable responsibility.

Ekman sighed, and reached into the drawer for his needlepoint. As his hands stitched, he went back and forth over the Grendel case, searching for things he'd ignored which could give them at least a toehold. They were doing all they could with the little they had, he concluded. Be patient, Ekman, he said to himself; but he was always impatient when he felt frustrated by a case.

D
uring dinner that evening, Ekman had said nothing about the day's events.

“What's been happening with that case, Walther? Do I have to pry it out of you?”

“I had lunch with Jarl Karlsson today,” he said. “At Il Positano. It was quite good. We both had the branzino.”

“And?”

Ekman thought about what he could tell her, leaving out anything about the personal focus that Karlsson had emphasized.

“And . . . he's been very helpful, giving us a better understanding of this new case. Also,” he added, almost as an afterthought, “there's no need to get me a new briefcase. It was returned.”

“How did that happen?” she asked.

“It seems the person who wrote that strange letter I told you about retrieved the briefcase from the robbers,” Ekman said, between bites on a veal chop.

“He knew the robbers? That's quite a coincidence, Walther. What's the rest of the story?” She wouldn't let him get away with not telling her more. Now he regretted even mentioning the briefcase.

“It seems he was having them watch me, God knows why,” Ekman said, “and they took matters into their own hands by robbing me. So he retrieved the briefcase and sent it back with an apology.” He omitted what may have happened to the robbers.

“Walther, I don't like the sound of this at all. You said the other day that letter had something to do with cannibalism, and now the writer is having you watched?”

She was putting it together much too fast, Ekman thought.

“This guy's just a run-of-the-mill weirdo, a crank. Apart from the robbery, which he didn't plan, nothing's happened. Certainly nothing for you to worry about,” he said, helping himself to another serving of garlic mashed potatoes.

“Nevertheless, I am worried. There's no telling what a disturbed person may do.” There's that psychobabble phrase again, Ekman thought, why don't we just say “crazy” and be done with it.

“Ingbritt, I'm not concerned, and you shouldn't be either.”

“Walther Ekman, you can't fool me. You've started carrying a gun. Yes, I saw you trying to hide it from me when you came in this evening. You took it off and shoved it in your overcoat pocket.”

“All right,” Ekman said holding up his hands, “I confess. I thought it prudent to wear it after the robbery and didn't want to alarm you. But that's all.” He thought he sounded convincing, but hated lying to her.

“You'll tell me if something more happens won't you, Walther? I don't want to have to pry things out of you. When I do, it just makes me anxious,” she said in a soft voice.

Ekman got up and hugged her. “There's nothing for you to worry about, darling,” he said, hoping it was true, as he kissed the top of her head.

19

Captured Pieces

F
riday, October 14
.
Yesterday's rain-laden clouds had been replaced by a brilliant blue sky. There was still a strong breeze moving the bare treetops. It was getting colder. With the sun shining, it was a day to be cheerful, but Ekman didn't feel that way. On the drive in, he mulled over the meetings ahead of him. None of them promised to be easy.

When he got to the office, Holm wasn't in his cubicle, but had already placed the handouts for this morning's meeting on Ekman's desk. I should think about promoting him soon, thought Ekman, except he's become too valuable to lose. He immediately reproached himself for selfishness.

Feeling the need for more coffee, Ekman took the stairs down to the cafeteria. When he got there he realized the others might also like something and asked the counterman for a large pot of coffee and a basket of sweet rolls to be delivered every morning. Taking a double espresso with him, he headed back to his office.

When the cafeteria worker arrived with his order, Ekman asked her to put it on the side table in his conference room.

Holm stuck his head in the door to say good morning.

“Enar, god morgen, thanks for getting the handouts ready. I've had some coffee and sweet rolls put out in the conference room. Please help yourself.”

“Thanks, Chief, that's good of you,” Holm replied. Coming back with a cup of coffee and a roll, he sat in a guest chair.

“So, how have the missing-person cases been going?”

“Well, we each took one, and I haven't spoken with the others about their cases. But I can tell you about mine if you like.”

Ekman looked at the clock. “It's almost time for the meeting, why don't we save it for then so you don't have to repeat yourself,” he said, getting up.

As they settled into their seats at the conference table, the others came in.

“Thanks for the refreshments, Chief,” said Rapp, as he spotted them and, going over, took two pastries.

“You're very welcome. Everybody please help yourselves and then we'll get started.”

Ekman was pleased that with one exception everyone was properly dressed, but winced at Bergfalk's open-necked, shimmering orange shirt with a gold jacket.

Once they were all seated, Ekman looked at Holm.

“Enar, why don't you begin?”

Holm took out face photos from a file folder and passed them around. “Mine is a male, thirty-seven, named Bertil Henriksson, a land surveyor, who lived in Jönköping.”

Ekman looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Yes, Chief, I did check in first with the locals. They were very helpful and I didn't have to give details about why we were interested.”

Holm continued, “He went missing three months ago for no apparent reason. He was due in his office at nine, but never made it. He lived alone in an apartment that was twenty minutes away and always walked. Henriksson was seen leaving his building that morning and going down the block, and that was the last anyone saw of him.

“He had no financial problems, and apparently no personal ones either. I went over the case file with the investigating officer, and then went to Henriksson's office and spoke with his colleagues. The guy was well-liked, did a good job, and had no enemies, as far as anyone knew.

“After that I interviewed his closest relative, his mother. Everyone, especially his mother, is still really shaken by his disappearance. She told me he'd had several girlfriends, but hadn't been involved with anyone for several months when he vanished. I also spoke by phone with the last girl he'd dated. They'd seen each other for half a year and then just drifted apart, but were still friendly.”

Holm looked around the table. “I'm sorry to say that's all I've got. I think it was thoroughly investigated at the time. There don't seem to be any leads left unexplored.”

“Thanks, Enar,” Ekman said. Turning to the rest of them he asked, “Did anyone hear anything that rang a bell with you?”

“It sounds similar to the Gustaffson case we spoke about yesterday. What struck me was that both men vanished while walking to or from work,” said Vinter.

“Good point,” said Ekman.

“That happened in my case, too,” Rapp exclaimed. “It was a year ago last February in Falköping. The guy, Rudy Bohren, a thirty-six-year-old store manager, was going home after working late, and never made it.”

“I can't say quite the same,” said Bergfalk. “The woman in mine, forty-five, lived with her sister. She disappeared two years ago from her apartment in Växjö one night after saying she was just going out for a breath of air. There was no apparent reason for her to just disappear. She had a good job, family, and friends. She'd made firm plans for the next day and was supposed to go on vacation with some girlfriends the following week. The investigator questioned everyone, and followed up all possible leads. Like Enar, I think they did a thorough job and I couldn't improve on it.”

“So, let's say for now the missing woman is an outlier who doesn't fit the disappearance pattern, and we focus on the three similar cases involving men who vanished while walking to or from work. Is there anything else we can say?” asked Ekman.

“People don't just vanish into thin air,” interjected Rapp. “Someone had to intervene. And since in at least two cases it happened in daylight, no one is likely to have just knocked them down and dragged them away. I think they were picked up by a car or some other vehicle.”

“Alrik, you've put your finger on it,” said Ekman. “Now the question is why would they get into a car? Was it someone they knew? Also, it occurs to me, what was the weather like? Did walking unexpectedly become a problem and make it more likely they would accept a lift, even from a stranger? Another possibility, of course, is they were forced in at gunpoint. The most basic question, however, is why were they singled out in the first place? If we can find the answer to that, everything else may fall into place.

“Enar, why don't you check the local weather on the dates the three men disappeared. And Alrik, Gerdi, and Mats, I'd like you to draw up lists of each man's educational background, business associates, friends and relatives. See if any common names leap out at you.

“Does this sound like the way to proceed?” Ekman asked. They all nodded agreement.

“We've got to remember we started out looking for some connection with Grendel, thinking he might be a serial killer. But these disappearances may have nothing to do with Grendel. We could be on the track of a killer, nonetheless. So don't feel your work may be for nothing. Even though it's possible these disappearances are unconnected, I don't really think so. They're too similar for it to be just coincidence. I believe we're onto something. What do you think?” Ekman looked around the table.

“I agree with you, Chief,” said Vinter. “I have to admit I was skeptical at first, but what we've found so far makes me feel there's a real problem out there, whether or not it has anything to do with this Grendel.”

Rapp, Bergfalk and Holm chimed in their agreement.

“Good, we've gotten a sharper focus. Now let me bring you up to date,” he said, handing out Karlsson's latest addition to the profile.

They sat silently for the next five minutes, reading.

“All I can say, Chief, is that Karlsson's right, this guy's got some sort of fixation on you,” said Bergfalk. “Maybe you should take this very personally.”

“Because we still don't really know whether we're dealing with a killer or just a nut who's focused on you, you should take precautions, Chief. Whether Grendel planned it or not, that robbery was directed at you.” Rapp's voice showed his concern.

“Thanks, Alrik. I'm being extra careful these days.” Changing the uncomfortable subject, he went on, “I think it would be helpful to set up a situation room.” Ekman pointed to the corkboard on a side wall and the large whiteboard next to it.