Grendel's Game (24 page)

Ekman indicated a woman in the first row. “Does Prosecutor Edvardsson agree that a crime has been committed?” she asked. Edvardsson came forward.

“Yes, I share Herr Ekman's belief that, at this point, the most likely explanation for Advokat Westberg's inexplicable disappearance is that he has been the victim of a crime,” Edvardsson responded, and without saying more, returned to her seat.

“Herr Ekman, you're not telling us anything about the actual investigation,” a man called out, as he stood. Tall, unshaven, with sunken cheeks, Bruno Haeggman, at thirty-five, was the chief investigative reporter for
Sydsvenska Nyheter
, one of the largest newspapers in southern Sweden. Ekman had dealt with him before. They hadn't been pleasant experiences.

“At this stage, our investigation must remain confidential. When it's possible to release details, I can assure you, we will,” Ekman replied in a flat voice.

“I guess we'll just have to discover what's really going on for ourselves,” Haeggman said loudly, his voice abrasive, and stalked out of the room.

There were still a few hands in the air trying to get his attention, but Ekman ignored them. There was nothing more he could say.

“Ladies and gentlemen, again, thank you for coming,” Ekman said, ending the conference. “Please make sure to get a copy of the photo from Fru Sahlin as you go out.”

As he left the stage, Norlander turned to Ekman. “That went about as well as could be expected, although I don't think we've made any new friends in the media,” he said. Malmer trailed after him without saying anything.

Edvardsson was talking quietly with Rystrom as Ekman joined them. “I arrived late and haven't had a chance to speak with you before,” she said to Rystrom.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Fru Edvardsson, I've heard so much about you. All of it extremely complimentary, of course.” Rystrom grinned.

“It's kind of you to say so, even though some people in Stockholm might strongly disagree,” she replied, as a sly smile brightened her small, wrinkled face.

“You received my latest memo?” Ekman asked her.

“Yes, and read it with great interest. Things are moving rapidly.”

“Not fast enough for me. I'm hoping that between the two of us,” he said, turning to Rystrom, “we'll be able to get you enough evidence to convict whoever's behind what's been happening.”

“I know you will, Walther. It was good meeting you, Herr Rystrom,” she said as she left.

Sitting in the office Rystrom had been assigned, two doors down from his own, Ekman was discussing the next steps in the investigation.

“Lindfors will be watched, beginning this afternoon. We may learn more at tomorrow's meeting. We've been holding them at eight in the morning, in my conference room.”

Rystrom nodded. Joining an investigating team after it had been working together would be awkward. It would require an adjustment by everyone to an outsider from Stockholm who outranked them.

“Walther, I don't want to be just window dressing to satisfy Norlander and Westberg,” he said.

“Believe me, you won't be. You've already hit on a theory that ties everything together, and I want you to feel free to bring it up. At these meetings, everything is open for discussion. We need everyone's views.”

“That's good. It's the approach I like to use, too.”

“Well, then,” said Ekman, getting up, “I'll see you in the morning, Garth.”

Rystrom opened his desk drawer, took out the “murder book,” and resumed reading where he'd left off.

39

Johan

A
t home that evening, Ekman finished the pad Thai he'd picked up for dinner, and phoned Ingbritt.

“You see, I didn't forget to call. How did your day go?”

“Carla and I took Johan to the park. We had a wonderful time with him, but I'm frankly exhausted. Trying to keep up with a six-year-old boy has become difficult for his aging grandmother.”

“Nonsense. You haven't aged a day since I first met you.”

“You lie like a well-trained husband should, Walther Ekman. But I'm still flattered you find me attractive.”

“And miss you more than ever,” he said, meaning it.

“And how did your day go?” she asked.

Ekman described his meeting with Westberg.

“That must have been very difficult for you.”

“Yes, but necessary, and now we have even more evidence that Stina Lindfors may not be what she first seemed.”

“Do you really suspect she could be that scheming?”

“Don't all women have a graduate degree in that?” he asked with a laugh.

“You're a hopeless misogynist,” she replied in a stern voice to his teasing.

Ekman told her about Garth Rystrom's arrival and the press conference.

“It sounds like you handled that well, and Garth will be good company for you. Why don't you ask him to stay with you while I'm away?”

“I did, but for now, he prefers a hotel. Otherwise, it might be too much togetherness.”

“I hate to think of you being all alone, Walther.”

“I'm managing so far.”

“Well, don't get to enjoy it too much.”

“That'll never happen. I'll talk with you again tomorrow night. Sleep well.”

Ekman went to his study and once again tried to immerse himself in eighteenth-century history. In some ways, it seemed a more civilized time than today, he thought, but knew he was deluding himself. The world was brutal then and hadn't changed.

40

Watching

W
ednesday, October 19
.
Enar Holm was dead tired. It was seven thirty a.m. and he hadn't slept more than five hours the night before. He and Gerdi Vinter had sat in his car watching Stina Lindfors's office building starting at four thirty the previous afternoon. When Lindfors finally appeared at six, they'd split up. The rain had stopped and Gerdi followed her on foot, staying a discreet distance behind, while he followed in the car.

Six blocks later, Lindfors entered a grocery and came out with a large shopping bag. The store was two streets away from her apartment building at 78 Homsgatan. After Lindfors went in, Gerdi checked the names on the building directory outside, and found that she had an apartment on the third floor. There was no way to tell if it faced the street.

Back in the car, diagonally across from the building entrance, she said to Holm, “I guess we'll just have to wait and see if Lindfors goes out. This is the first time I've done surveillance since the academy, what about you?”

“It's the second time, so I'm no expert at this. Do you have the camera?”

Gerdi reached into the backseat for the camera bag, and took out a high-speed digital Nikon D800E with a long 200-m.m. lens.

Holm said, “Let's photograph everyone who goes in or out. We can't know if they're connected to Lindfors, but they could be.”

“Okay, for now,” she said. “But I've a better idea. Why don't I take a photo of the directory? Then we can get driver's license pictures of the residents and only photograph visitors.”

“Great idea. Go ahead,” said Enar, watching her cross the street and use her mobile to take a picture of the directory.

When Gerdi came back, she called headquarters and transmitted the directory photo, asking for license pictures of the residents at 78 Homsgatan. While they waited for them, Enar snapped pictures of several people entering and leaving the building. Two hours later, they had twelve license photos and started comparing them with the ones Holm had taken. All the people he'd photographed lived in the building.

It was a long and boring day.

At eight
P.M
., Holm said, “Why don't you grab something to eat? I'm not that hungry.”

They'd stocked up on bottles of water and snacks before they started watching Lindfors. “I do need to use the bathroom again. Can I bring you anything from the restaurant?”

“Only your sweet self,” said Enar, with a grin. Gerdi kissed him on the cheek and stepped out of the car.

She'd been gone a few minutes when a man approached the doorway to Lindfors's building. It was dark now, but there was a street lamp nearby, and the building entrance was well lit. Holm took several quick frames as the man went in. Looking at them afterward, most were shadowy, but there was one clear head profile.

When Gerdi came back from a small restaurant down the street, she brought sandwiches and hot coffee for both of them.

“Thank you, my guardian angel,” said Enar. “I was starving.”

“I thought so, you liar. You're always hungry, even though you hide it.”

“While you were gone, I took some pictures of a guy going in. Let's compare them with the residents' photos.”

It soon became clear that the man was the first stranger they'd found so far. But he wasn't the last. Two other men who went in and a woman who came out didn't live there either. Enar took photos of all of them.

By ten, two of the three male visitors had come and gone. The lit apartment windows went out one after the other.

An hour later, when the building was totally dark, Enar asked, “How long do you want to keep watching for that third guy?”

“I'm ready to call it a night,” Gerdi replied. “Nothing seems to be happening. How about you?”

“Okay, let's go to my place, and be back here by six.”

“It's a good thing I've a change of clothes at your apartment, or people might begin to talk,” she said with a mischievous grin.

“Let them,” he said, kissing her hard on the mouth.

A
fter a quick breakfast of coffee and pastries, Enar and Gerdi drove back to Lindfors's building and parked in a slightly different place, with a good view of the entrance. It was six thirty. The sun would be up in an hour. The weather report had promised a dry, cloudy day.

By seven, people were leaving for work. At seven thirty, Enar said, “Why don't you go to the meeting? I'll stay here and watch for Lindfors.”

“Afterward, I'll find you near her office, and you can take a break,” she replied.

They kissed, and he watched her head down the street toward a taxi rank on the corner.

At seven forty-five, Lindfors came out and started walking in the direction of her office building. Enar followed her in the car keeping a half block back. Near her office, she stopped at a coffee shop and came out a few minutes later with a small bag. She entered her office building at eight ten. Holm was in luck. There was a parking space a short distance across the street from the entrance. He settled down to wait.

41

Case Theories

T
he evening paper and last night's television newscasts had carried stories about the press conference. Westberg's photo, the police request for information, and the number to call had been prominently displayed. Ekman had glanced through the morning papers to make sure they carried the same information. This should keep Alenius and Rosengren busy sorting out the crank calls, he thought. There was a chance somebody who had seen something useful would phone. He hoped they could tell the difference.