Grendel's Game (29 page)

“We should have them all by the end of the day, Chief,” said Rapp.

“Yeah, two of the owners we've visited so far kicked up a real fuss, even though we promised we wouldn't harm their files and they'd get them back in a few days. I think they may have some stuff on their systems they'd rather not have us looking at,” added Bergfalk.

“My computer techs will be down here this afternoon and start right in on them,” said Rystrom.

“Good,” Ekman said. “Then we should find out if the chess connection among the missing men leads anywhere or is another dead end.”

“How are those phone calls going?” he asked Rosengren.

“Alenius and I are working through them, Chief,” replied Rosengren. “It's amazing how many nuts are out there. The Westberg calls had been tapering off, but with all this Grendel publicity this morning following right behind the Westberg story, people are connecting the two. Some are panicking.”

“Do any calls look promising?”

“Two of them may give us something. Alenius spoke to an old woman who lives up the street from that hill overlooking the Westberg place. She didn't know if it had anything to do with Rodger Westberg's disappearance a few days later, but decided to call anyway. She'd read about the Westberg break-in, and said that day she saw a silver car she believes was a Volvo, parked near the bottom for hours. She didn't think much about it, until we asked the public for information about Westberg.

“A guy had gotten out, gone up the hill, and didn't come down for a long time. She couldn't see him clearly, but said he was slender and thinks he was young. But she's almost ninety, so everyone looks young to her. She saw you too, Chief. She said a big man in black, driving a black Volvo did the same thing a few days later. That's why we think she's believable.”

“And the other call?”

“It may back up her story. Early Wednesday morning, a man who may have been Westberg was seen walking toward downtown where Westberg's office is located. He would have taken that route from his apartment. The guy who called said a car stopped, the man leaned over to talk to the driver, and then got in. The caller was almost a block behind the car so he couldn't see the man's face or the driver. But from the body build he described, it could have been Westberg. And get this . . . the car was a newer model silver Volvo.”

“This could be the lead we've been looking for,” Ekman said, his voice steady, not betraying the excitement he felt. “You and Alenius have done good work. I'd like you to run all the cars currently, or previously, owned by Lindfors, Stillen, Westberg's parents, and the people who work in Rodger Westberg's office. Let's see if we get a hit.”

“Right away, Chief,” said Rosengren.

G
erdi Vinter was fighting off her urge to fall asleep, when she saw Carl Stillen leave Lindfors's apartment building at eight forty-five a.m., turn right and head down Homsgatan. She started the car and slowly drifted after him. Two corners down, he turned right again on Eklangsgatan and kept going for six blocks before heading into a Clas Ohlson store. Vinter drove past, looking for a parking space, and found one halfway down the street.

Taking out her mobile, she called Hans Bergner. “Stillen's out, and I'll let you know if it looks like he's coming back.”

“Thanks, Gerdi. We're going in now. We should be done in fifteen minutes max.”

She walked back to Ohlson's and entering, looked around to see if she could spot Stillen. It was a big store and crowded even early in the morning. Not seeing him in front, she walked toward the rear. There he is, she thought, behind the hardware counter. He works here. He'll probably be here for hours, and I'm starving. I'll wander around the store, keeping an eye on him for half an hour to make sure Bergner and the techs have time to finish, and then I'll get something to eat before coming back.

50

A Deception

A
fter two rings Ekman picked up his phone.

“Walther, it's Ludvig. I've got the DNA on that ‘item' you sent. We broke every speed limit on this. Our lab worked literally day and night to finish the analysis in record time.”

“Ludvig, you've got my sincere thanks, and I'm ready to pin a medal on you, but what are the results?”

“It's not Westberg.”

Ekman was surprised. He could have sworn it would be. “I hesitate to even ask, but are you absolutely certain?”

“Nothing is 100 percent, but this is as close to it as anyone is likely to get. Based on the cheek swab from his father, I'm ready to testify under oath that the genitals are excluded from being Rodger Westberg's. Is that good enough for you?” Malmquist asked, sounding annoyed his work was even questioned.

“More than good enough, Ludvig. Sorry I asked, but I felt certain it was Westberg. Now, the question becomes, who is it?”

“Well, get me something else for comparison, and I'll try to give you a more satisfactory answer,” he said, still annoyed.

“Okay, it's back to the drawing board for us. And Ludvig, thanks again for the quick results.”

“Even if they're not what you wanted to hear?”

“Even so,” said Ekman, hanging up.

That damn Grendel, he thought. Tricked us again, sending his ‘gift' with that note telling us it was Westberg. He loves to get us running around on wild goose chases. This was a lesson I won't forget, he promised himself.

Now who do the genitals belong to? If he's right about the connection among the missing men, it should be Gustaffson or Henriksson. We'll have to get DNA samples from their relatives. I'll ask Enar to do it, if he feels up to it, now that we'll have a larger surveillance team watching Lindfors and Stillen.

Before he could call Holm, the phone rang again. Norlander wanted to see him.

The commissioner was pacing back and forth in his office. He was no longer his usual smooth, unruffled self. Ekman observed that, interestingly, Malmer was nowhere to be seen.

“Walther, come in. Please sit down. That story has caused even more of a furor than we expected. I've been on the phone since it came out. I've had to assure the National Police Commisssioner that we're on top of it. Thankfully, I could tell him CID is already involved. It was a good idea to bring in Rystrom. Bring me up to date on what's happening.”

Ekman told him about the listening device techs, surveillance team, and computer specialists Rystrom had brought in to help them. Norlander seemed somewhat relieved.

“So, we're doing everything we can.”

“Yes, I believe we are,” he said, describing what they now knew about Stillen and Lindfors, and their possible motives.

“That all sounds very positive, Walther. Good work. Now I'm going to have to call Westberg back. He's going ballistic. He said when his wife saw the story, she immediately thought their son was a victim of this crazy cannibal, Grendel. He's afraid she may be right.”

“It's possible, but there's one new piece of information that could be reassuring. I just got off the phone with Malmquist at the forensics lab: the genitals are not Westberg's, despite what it said in Grendel's note. He was trying to mislead us.”

“That's helpful for us to know, but I don't think I'm going to mention that to ease Westberg's mind,” Norlander said with a wry grin.

Ekman hadn't told Norlander about Grendel's call to Rystrom accusing Rapp of being the source of the newspaper story. He didn't want any hint of suspicion, however mistaken, falling on Rapp; Ekman was convinced he was innocent.

“I think all you can really tell Westberg is that we, and CID, have large teams working on every possible lead,” he said.

“You're right, but it won't satisfy him.”

Ekman shrugged. He was less concerned about Westberg's feelings now that he knew about his affair with Lindfors. Apart from Rystrom, he'd kept that information to himself so far. But it was bound to come out sooner or later, he thought, if the case against Lindfors became stronger.

“Walther, please keep me informed directly about your progress. Also, I've asked Olov to take on some more administrative responsibilities, so you needn't keep him involved,” Norlander added in a casual manner.

Ekman nodded, and shook hands with Norlander. Well, well, he thought, Norlander's finally woken up to the fact that Malmer is more of a hindrance to his career than a help.

51

Volvos

E
kman was working on a report for Norlander and Edvardsson when there was a knock and an excited Rosengren came in.

“We found two silver Volvos in that group of people you wanted me to check on, Chief. One belongs to a paralegal in Westberg's office. I remember questioning her. She's sixty-three and uses a cane. I called her to ask whether she might have forgotten she picked up Westberg that morning, and she swears she didn't. I believe her.” He paused.

“And the second car?” asked Ekman.

“This is the really interesting one. It belongs to Lindfors. But that's not all. It was signed over to her five months ago, and you'll never guess by who.”

“It's ‘whom,' ” Ekman replied. “And the car belonged to Eugen Westberg.”

Rosengren was crestfallen. “How did you guess, Chief?”

“The stars told me,” said a straight-faced Ekman. He now believed Westberg had lied to him about the affair with Lindfors being over a long time ago. His admission had come too quickly, Ekman thought. I'm going to have another chat with Councillor Westberg.

“That was quick work, Rosengren. Thanks.”

“Do you think Lindfors picked him up? It would fit,” said Rosengren. It would tie up the case neatly. “She kills Westberg, or her boyfriend, Stillen, does the dirty work, and they walk away with millions.”

“Yes, it works. But let's find out what surveillance and the mics give us before we bring her and Stillen in for questioning. It may give us more leverage. Then we'll take a look at that car.”

“We're getting real close, Chief,” said a pleased Rosengren.

“Perhaps,” said Ekman. “We'll see.”

52