Midnight In Malmö: The Fourth Inspector Anita Sundström Mystery (The Malmö Mysteries Book 4) (27 page)

Brodd slouched off.

‘He’ll make the most of it,’ Hakim commented wryly as Wallen handed him the mobile.

Asplund was ill at ease when Wallen and Hakim returned.

‘My client wishes to cooperate as much as possible in your investigation,’ explained the solicitor.

‘That’s very good of him,’ Wallen replied with mock civility. She stared straight at Asplund. ‘Did you have sex with Ebba Pozorski on Tuesday, the third of June?’

Asplund nodded.

‘Sorry, can you speak up for the recording?’

‘Yes.’

‘At what time did you meet?’

‘That afternoon.’

‘Where?’

‘My apartment.’

‘Is that where you met each visit she made to Sweden?’

‘No. I used an apartment of a friend of mine. I didn’t want to leave… traces of her that my wife might discover.’

‘So why not there this last time?’

‘We were scheduled to meet at my friend’s place. But she just turned up at my apartment before I was due to leave. I wasn’t happy for her to be there, but she was acting oddly. Upset.’

‘Upset?’

‘Something had spooked her. I don’t know what. She wanted comforting.’

‘So, anal sex was your way of comforting her.’ Wallen couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

‘She calmed down first. Then we…’

‘And afterwards?’

‘We agreed to meet in a month’s time at my friend’s flat, and she left.’

Wallen consulted some notes she had laid out on the table.

‘Did you pay for the sex?’

‘No.’

‘But you knew she was a prostitute?’

Asplund glanced at his solicitor and then back at Wallen. ‘Yes.’

Wallen pushed a copy of the Julia Akerman spreadsheet across the table.

‘We’ve shown you this spreadsheet before. Why are you on it if you’re not a paying client like all the others?’

Asplund pursed his lips. ‘Maybe for old time’s sake. As you reminded me, she had been an employee.’

‘Come on, you don’t expect us to believe that. My colleague here, Inspector Mirza, has a theory about that. Haven’t you, Inspector?’

‘We think that Ebba Pozorski probably met her clients while working for your travel business. Either that, or you made the initial contact.’ It was Hakim’s turn to consult some notes. ‘We’ve done a bit of digging over the last twenty-four hours, and the names we’ve been able to check on turn out to be members of the travel industry in their various countries. It can’t be a coincidence.’

Asplund sat mutely.

‘Were you – I can’t think of another suitable word – Ebba Pozorski’s pimp?’

‘This is outrageous!’ cut in the solicitor. ‘You can’t accuse my client of such a thing.’

‘And why not?’ Hakim asked innocently. ‘Ebba Pozorski’s a high-class call girl with clients all over Europe, many of whom are in the same business as herr Asplund. Your client has admitted that he regularly had sex with this woman, who was one of his ex-employees. She had to find the clients somehow, and we’ve no evidence from her computer to suggest that she advertised her services over the internet. I think it’s a perfectly legitimate question.’

Asplund stared hard at Hakim. ‘No comment.’

‘OK, let’s go back,’ continued Wallen. ‘As you were having sex with her, we can safely assume that you remember her as an employee. Were you sleeping with her then?’

‘Is this relevant?’ The solicitor was starting to annoy Wallen.

‘We are establishing the relationship between your client and the murdered girl. We want to know how far this relationship went back.’ Turning her gaze back to Asplund: ‘Were you sleeping with Ebba Pozorski when she was working at Malasp Travel?’

‘Occasionally,’ Asplund admitted.

‘Is that why you employed her?’

The solicitor was about to jump in again, but Asplund answered.

‘No. She was good at her job. She was a hard worker. Honest.’

‘What experience did she bring to the role of sales representative?’ This was Hakim’s turn to probe.

‘I can’t remember exactly. But she must have had a good CV.’

‘That’s odd,’ said Hakim shaking his head as he bent over a typed sheet of paper. ‘The jobs that she seems to have done don’t seem to tally with being a qualified sales rep – unless working in a convenience store counts. Or the fact that she was caught soliciting in 1998.’

‘Look, she was down on her luck. I gave her a break. And she didn’t let me down.’

‘That’s very good of you,’ Wallen weighed in. ‘Giving her a break. Did you know that she had been soliciting for sex?’

‘No. Of course not.’

‘Are you sure that your kindness to a girl who had hit the skids was entirely altruistic?’

‘If you mean I just employed her to have sex with her, you’re dead wrong!’ he said angrily.

‘I don’t mean that,’ she carried on calmly. ‘I think you knew her before she came to work for you.’

‘I don’t know what you’re on about,’ he blustered.

‘You knew her when she was a teenager in Sjöbo.’

‘Of course I didn’t!’

‘Along with her parents, she was a member of the Church of God’s Mission on Earth. You’ve already denied being a member of that church. Do you still deny it?’

‘Yes.’ But there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

‘That’s strange, because Pastor Elias Kroon, the founder of the church, reckoned you were a member for a time. Well, that’s what he told me. So, I ask the question again.’

‘I was, briefly,’ he said dismissively.

‘Why only briefly?’

‘I got fed up with all that millennialism nonsense. And I didn’t like Kroon.’

‘The feeling seems to have been mutual. And during your “brief” time as a member of the church, you must have come across the Pozorski family.’

‘Yes, I remember them. They were nice.’

‘And Ebba Pozorski?’

Asplund licked his dry lips. ‘OK. I did know her. Can I have some water?’

Hakim got up and left the room.

‘Inspector Mirza has left the room to fetch some water,’ Wallen said for the benefit of the recording. Until he returned, they sat in silence. Wallen was feeling good, as she could see that they had got to Asplund. Not a trace of his trademark smile had appeared, and he was flustered. She suspected the water was a ploy to gain time to marshal his thoughts. Hakim returned with a bottle and a plastic cup, and passed them over the table. Asplund slowly unscrewed the bottle top and carefully poured himself a cup full of water. After he had drunk the whole lot, Wallen proceeded.

‘Now we’ve established that you knew Ebba at least twenty years ago, can we come back to your long-term relationship?’

‘There was no long-term relationship,’ Asplund protested.

‘Then explain why you took her on at Malasp Travel.’

Asplund fixed his eyes on the bottle of water, which he was now twisting back and forth in his hands.

‘As I said, Ebba was down on her luck. Things hadn’t gone well for her since leaving Sjöbo. I took pity on her.’

‘Then took advantage of her?’

‘It wasn’t like that!’ The flash of temper was there again. In an instant, it was gone. He gripped the bottle tightly and spoke evenly. ‘I’d heard that she’d been on the game, and I thought this would help get her off it. By then, her mother was dead and she was estranged from her father. That upset her because she loved him more than anyone. That’s why she used to visit him at the nursing home whenever she was in Malmö.’

‘We hear she gave a lot of money to the home.’

‘She was that sort of girl. And, believe it or not, she was very religious.’

‘So, why did she leave Malasp?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘More to the point, why would someone want to kill her?’

‘I’ve no idea. It’s tragic.’ Asplund looked across to Wallen directly, the hint of tears in the corners of his eyes. ‘She didn’t do anyone any harm. But her life was blighted.’

Wallen returned the stare. She wasn’t going to fall for the emotional act. ‘That brings me neatly back to Pastor Kroon. You use the word “blighted”. According to Kroon, it was you who blighted her life.’

‘What?’ He was incredulous.

She referred to her notes again. ‘“She came under a malign influence within my own church. I will never forgive myself for being blind to the perverted designs of one of my own flock until it was too late. Ebba had turned to the path of sin and depravity.”’ She finished reading and looked up. ‘According to him, that was you.’

‘That’s totally wrong. It’s rubbish.’

‘That’s why he threw you out of the church.’

‘That’s
not
true. I wouldn’t have touched a teenager. I can’t believe he’s saying such a thing.’

Wallen let him wallow in the implications of what she’d just accused him of and then nodded to Hakim, who took up the attack.

‘Can we talk about Axel Isaksson? You denied knowing him.’ Asplund remained mute. ‘Not only was he a member of the church, so you must have known him there, but also you’ve been in regular contact with him since Ebba’s murder.’ Hakim held up Asplund’s phone. ‘Fifteen calls. And ten from him. Why?’

Asplund didn’t bother with the cup and took a swig of water straight from the bottle. He put it down on the table very deliberately. ‘Ebba,’ he said quietly. ‘It was about Ebba.’

‘What about her?’

‘Well, her death, of course. We both knew her. I phoned him as soon as I saw her picture in the paper, but I didn’t know he was sleeping with her until I saw his name on that spreadsheet,’ he said, nodding towards the table. ‘I asked him if he could find out what was happening. He can find things out… you know, in his position.’

‘And in “his position”, could he clear up your mess?’ Hakim pressed. ‘An old connection from the church.’

‘No! Absolutely not.’

‘Do you possess a butterfly knife?’

‘A what?’

‘A butterfly knife. They’re sold in the US, which you visit regularly. It was the murder weapon.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ He sounded very agitated.

‘She was stabbed with it. But it wasn’t the first time. Someone had previously stabbed her in the shoulder. With your preferred type of lovemaking,’ Hakim said pointedly, ‘you must have spotted the scar.’

‘She never talked about it.’

‘It doesn’t look good for you. We know you had sex with her the day she died. Maybe an argument took place. Did she threaten you?’ Asplund just kept shaking his head. ‘She could have ruined your marriage and damaged your business if your relationship came out. You could have had access to the murder weapon; and you have admitted that you run and train regularly, so you could easily have jogged up behind her and killed her. After all, you knew where she lived, which isn’t far from your own apartment. Most tellingly, you were probably the only person in Malmö who would have had any idea about her routine. Motive, means and opportunity.’

‘It’s not true! I didn’t kill her; I loved her.’ And, virtually in a whisper, ‘I protected her.’

‘Protected her?’ Hakim queried.

Asplund’s head sank onto his chest, and he muttered: ‘Ask Axel Isaksson.’

Chief Inspector Moberg scooped up his last dollop of pie and ice cream. Even he was struggling, but he had had two main courses. Brodd had recommended the Gästgifvaregård in Sjöbo, and, as he had had no luck finding anything about Axel Isaksson that would be useful to the investigation, he might as well take advantage of the local facilities while he was here. He had talked to some people in the town hall, and they had spoken highly of the politician. A couple of the shops had been the same. He’d even gone round to Pastor Kroon’s house, but the cleric hadn’t been in. There must be someone round here who didn’t like the pompous prick. Even the middle-aged waitress had said he was a decent enough fellow – so she wasn’t going to get a tip.

He had turned his phone off, as he was sure that Commissioner Dahlbeck would be trying to get hold of him. And, yes, when he had checked it before sitting down to his meal, there had been three missed calls from his secretary. There was also one from Brodd. He ignored that, too, as he assumed that he wanted to arrange a drink after work. He didn’t mind boozing with Pontus as long as he didn’t drone on about this supposed new girlfriend of his. She sounded too good to be true. Let’s face it, Brodd was no catch. Moberg, being naturally suspicious, was beginning to suspect that he had invented this woman to give him some much-needed credibility among his colleagues. He checked his phone again as he drank his coffee, and saw that he’d missed a recent call from Wallen. He would ring her back as soon as he was finished. She might have news of the Asplund interrogation. Everything seemed to be pointing in the travel agent’s direction, but Moberg still wasn’t sure about the motive. In his mind he was convinced that Isaksson had most to lose. But that didn’t mean Asplund wasn’t involved. They were connected, but what was the specific link other than the bizarre religious cult created by Elias Kroon? His appetite sated, Moberg hurriedly paid his bill, and left. Outside the ornate portal of Gästgifvaregård, next to a pole on which the national flag dangled wistfully, he dialled Wallen.

He was pleased with what Wallen had to report, even though Asplund had flatly denied murdering Ebba Pozorski. They had established the Sjöbo link when Ebba was a teenager, the fact that he’d employed her to give her a break when she had fallen on hard times, and that he knew she was a prostitute both before and after working at Malasp Travel. Asplund wouldn’t be drawn on whether he had fixed up her clients, but they had a good case against him except for a clear-cut motive.

‘What about Isaksson?’ Moberg asked.

‘Didn’t Brodd get in touch?’

‘Must have missed his call,’ he answered vaguely.

‘Asplund’s mobile showed he’d phoned Isaksson fifteen times since Ebba’s killing. And Isaksson had rung him ten.’

‘I bloody knew it!’ he said, smacking the flagpole with his free hand. The jolt left the metal pole vibrating.

He heard a little chuckle at the end of the line. ‘You’re going to like this. When Hakim presented the case against Asplund, he reacted by saying that he didn’t kill her, that he loved her, and that he protected her. Then, when Hakim pressed him on what he meant by protecting her, all he would say was “ask Axel Isaksson”.’