Midnight In Malmö: The Fourth Inspector Anita Sundström Mystery (The Malmö Mysteries Book 4) (28 page)

Moberg felt a surge of excitement. It was the feeling he got when his gut instinct had been confirmed.

‘Is Asplund still there?’

‘Yes. We’re waiting for Prosecutor Blom to decide whether we’ve enough evidence to keep him.’

‘OK, I’m coming straight back.’

‘By the way, the commissioner wants to see you.’

‘After what you’ve told me, Klara, I want to see him!’

Anita emerged from the shower. She began to rub herself down with a towel. Kevin sat on the bed and watched, admiring her body. He was still pinching himself that this woman was sleeping with him. He had had attractive – and not so attractive – women in his life before. Leanne was regarded as a “looker”, which was why so many of his colleagues had tried their luck with her. Some had succeeded. But Anita was different. Smarter for a start. There was something sexy about intelligent women; that irresistible combination of brains and beauty. She was fun, too; when not chasing after invisible killers. What she saw in him, he had no idea. His dad had always said that you should never question luck. Now he knew what his old man had meant.

Anita slipped on a pair of black knickers and stood thoughtfully in front of him.

‘Are you really sure it’s him?’

‘Positive. That was the guy we know as Benno Källström, and I could see him plainly from inside the memorial. And he was definitely watching you. I’ve done enough surveillance in my time to spot the signs.’

Anita frowned. Even with the first wrinkles of middle age, her face seemed beautiful. ‘Do you think he’s followed us back here?’

‘I was pretty sure I saw him again when we got off the train at Alexanderplatz, so he probably has.’

He was trying to stop himself becoming obsessional, but a few days with Anita had created that worrying mindset. All the time they had been wandering round the sights of Berlin – the Brandenburg Gate, the Reichstag, the Tiergarten – he had been keeping an eye out for Benno. He hadn’t seen him and was starting to doubt himself until he caught a glimpse of him at the busy station.

‘Do you think the woman is here too?’ Anita asked as she slipped on a T-shirt.

‘I didn’t see her. Doesn’t mean she’s not here.’

Anita started to rub her hair again with the towel.

‘If they’re not who they say they are, who are they? What were they doing in the holiday home next to Rylander’s? Besides being very suspicious, it’s bloody unnerving. To be followed all the way here. What do you think we should do?’

That had been uppermost in Kevin’s mind since the Jewish Memorial.

‘Whoever these people are, they’re serious. We don’t know when Benno got to Berlin, so we can only hope that he didn’t follow us to Karl-Marx-Allee last night. If what Klas found out from Albrecht on his visit here led to his death, we have to make sure that the source of that information isn’t put in danger.’

‘But if Benno’s following us, he, or someone he’s working for, already knows what Albrecht told Klas – that’s if they got hold of his Berlin notes somehow.’

‘Not necessarily. If they
had
found the notes, Albrecht would probably have been disposed of by now. I’m sure they want to silence him, too, but they don’t know who he is, or where to find him. Basically, we mustn’t lead them to the granddaughter’s flat.’ Kevin got up from the bed, went to the window and glanced out as though he was expecting to see Benno standing there across the street. He turned back to Anita. ‘I think you should go alone tonight. I’ll leave the hotel first and see if he starts following me. If he does, I’ll ring you, and you can head off to Karl-Marx-Allee.’

She stopped rubbing her hair. ‘And if not?’

‘If not, you’ll have to make sure you lose him if he tries to follow you.’

‘You’d better give me a good description of him then.’ She threw the towel down on the floor in exasperation. ‘This is like one of those stupid spy movies Björn used to love.’

Kevin flashed a wan smile. ‘Except in this one real people seem to be dying.’

He could see that Commissioner Dahlbeck was furious. He also looked weary. Years of arse-licking must take its toll, Moberg thought uncharitably.

‘You’ve gone too far this time, Moberg. I gave you strict instructions not to harass Axel Isaksson, and instead, you’ve gone out of your way to do just that without the slightest justification.’ Moberg wondered if the commissioner was about to burst a blood vessel. ‘I’m going to have to take you off the case. I’m going to give it to Larsson’s team.’

Moberg calmly let him finish. Normally, he would have lost his temper by now, but he realized this wasn’t the right time and place.

‘Before you do that, Commissioner, have you thought
why
Isaksson is so keen to stop us asking him questions?’

‘A man of his standing is entitled to protection against baseless accusations,’ Dahlbeck said defensively. He hadn’t expected to have to justify his decision.

‘So it’s all right to hassle the scum of our streets, but not the politicians whose policies create most of the problems we have to clear up.’

‘I’m not going to argue with you, Moberg.’

‘Well, you might want to tell Larsson that your family-values politician has not only been paying for sex with a prostitute, but has been in regular touch with our chief suspect ever since the murder. They knew each other in Sjöbo, where they attended the same church. The victim, Ebba Pozorski, was also a member, so they both knew her from a young age. And now our chief suspect’s only defence is that we should talk to Isaksson. Apparently, he has all the answers. But that depends on whether you’re willing to let Larsson ask the questions.’

That was Moberg’s parting shot as he headed for the door. His hand was on the handle when the commissioner spoke: ‘Maybe I’m being hasty.’ Moberg managed to smother a smile as he swung back round. ‘I don’t like the man any more than you do, but he’s been beating us with a stick for some time now. We have to use the softly, softly approach.’

‘He’s broken the law for a start. Having sex with a prostitute.’

‘I’ll have a word with Blom first. See where she thinks we stand.’

‘I don’t want to arrest him… yet. But we need to talk to him as soon as possible.’ Commissioner Dahlbeck’s face creased into a worried frown. ‘The longer you wait, the more time he has to cover his tracks.’

The call from Sonia Blom came more quickly than even Moberg had anticipated. He was given the go-ahead to talk to Axel Isaksson, but she warned him that he must tread carefully. ‘An informal chat at this stage. We don’t want to give him any more opportunities to denigrate the Skåne County Police. And he has powerful friends.’

‘He might lose some of them by the time I’ve finished,’ Moberg answered gleefully before putting the phone down. He had the satisfaction of knowing that his last comment would get her fancy knickers in a twist. Since her much-heralded arrival from Stockholm, Blom’s cautious, image-conscious approach to her prosecuting duties had stymied many of his investigations over the years. He prayed for the day when she would return to the bright lights of the capital, and they’d get someone in who was more effective.

To Moberg’s surprise, a call to Isaksson’s office had elicited an immediate response from the politician himself. He was suddenly being cooperative, in a cagey way. The commissioner must have warned him that there was nothing he could do to prevent the inevitable questioning. Isaksson would help if he could, but he’d rather not have the interview at his office, or at his home. Of course he bloody wouldn’t, thought Moberg. They agreed to meet in Kungsparken; near the casino at four o’clock.

Moberg took Wallen along with him because she was fully up to date with the Asplund situation. Isaksson was already there when they arrived. He looked cool in a short-sleeved shirt; his jacket discarded back at the office because of the warmth of the afternoon. He was smoking. Was this to calm his nerves? It did nothing to dim the hostility in his stare. And he appeared surprised at seeing Wallen accompanying Moberg. ‘I have to cover my back too,’ is how the chief inspector justified her presence. When Isaksson had finished his cigarette, they all sat down on a bench, with Wallen squeezed on the end next to Moberg.

‘When I spoke to you before,’ started Moberg, ‘you denied any knowledge of Markus Asplund and Ebba Pozorski. But the fact that you’re talking to us now indicates you were lying about that.’

‘Lying’s a strong word.’

‘Mistaken, then. You forgot.’ Moberg was hoping that this would wind the politician up. Get him angry and he might be less guarded. ‘We now know that you knew them both from your Sjöbo days in the Church of God’s… something or other. And we also know you’ve been in constant contact with Asplund ever since Ebba’s death.’ Isaksson’s eyes screwed up behind his glasses in puzzlement. ‘We’ve seen his mobile. He’s called you fifteen times, and you’ve been on to him ten.’

‘I can’t deny it then.’

‘What were the conversations about?’

Isaksson’s gaze wandered towards a group of young mothers with pushchairs and waddling toddlers in tow.

‘About Ebba. They were always about Ebba.’

‘This is a prostitute that you both slept with. One that seems to have dressed up in a nun’s habit for your gratification. This we can prove.’ Moberg quickly moved on before Isaksson asked the obvious question as to how they could be sure of that without him giving them a DNA sample. ‘Put it this way, if you are going to stand in September’s general election, your chances will be well scuppered if this comes out.’

Isaksson looked sharply at the chief inspector as though the realization of what he had done had suddenly hit home. He didn’t crumple as Moberg thought he might, but, being a politician, he seized on his words. ‘You said, “
if
it comes out.”’

‘That depends.’

‘On what?’ Moberg could see Isaksson’s mind whirring; weighing up the possibility of negotiation and compromise.

‘How cooperative you are.’ He decided to put the squeeze on him. ‘With your status and future ambitions, your relationship with Ebba Pozorski could have jeopardized your whole career. Not to say your marriage and reputation as an upright Christian. That gives you one helluva motive.’

Isaksson gave a bitter laugh. ‘You’ve no idea. Ebba would never have betrayed me. She wasn’t that sort of girl.’

‘You mean client confidentiality,’ Moberg commented derisively.

‘Despite her profession, she was a good Christian girl.’ Moberg couldn’t get his head round this, though it echoed Asplund’s thoughts about Ebba on the interview recording he had listened to before they had come out to the park.

‘Her killing was a premeditated act. If she was such a saint, why would anybody want her dead?’

Isaksson spread his hands hopelessly. ‘I have no idea. Neither has Asplund.’ To Moberg, this was tantamount to confessing to collusion between them. But which one actually did it? ‘Look, if I tell you all I know, can you put a lid on everything that’s happened concerning me?’

‘We might be able to if you’re really helpful.’ Moberg knew he was lying, but if it made the job easier, sod it. ‘OK, let’s go back to the beginning. When did you first come across Ebba Pozorski?’

Isaksson fumbled for the packet of cigarettes stuffed in the breast pocket of his shirt, and took one out. He lit it. This was trying Moberg’s patience, but it would be worth the wait if he got his man.

‘She must have been about nine or ten when she joined the church with her parents. I wasn’t too keen when Boleslaw Pozorski was accepted into the congregation.’

‘Because he was Polish?’ Wallen asked as she scribbled down what Isaksson was saying.

‘Too many immigrants were coming in. Nothing like the appalling situation we have now, of course. I thought that by making them welcome, it was just encouraging them. But Elzbieta was a good person, and I accepted him for her sake. And Ebba was such a sweet thing.’ He puffed hard on his cigarette and let out a cloud of smoke.

‘What about Markus Asplund?’

‘Oh, he joined the church later.’

‘Your old pastor, Elias Kroon, described Asplund as… what was it Klara?’

‘He said that Asplund had perverted designs on Ebba, and that due to him, she turned to a life of sin and depravity.’

‘Not exactly a ringing endorsement of your fellow worshipper. Was that how you saw it?’

Isaksson idly flicked the ash from his cigarette and reproduced the harsh guffaw of before.

‘Of course not. Whatever the circumstances may seem to be, Asplund is an honourable man.’ This wasn’t the opinion that either Moberg or Wallen had formed of the travel agent.

‘According to Pastor Kroon, he expelled Asplund from the congregation.’

‘Asplund left the church because he could see what the rest of us were blind to. When the church began, we were so full of hope, and Kroon seemed to tap into and articulate our beliefs and expectations. We were entering the Golden Age before the final judgement. He promised us a New Earth in God’s Kingdom. We were the chosen ones. But as the church grew, he began to change, to become more manipulative, more secretive.’ He threw away his cigarette with a heavy sigh. ‘Kroon took a shine to Ebba, who was now a very impressionable teenager. Her parents were old-fashioned in their attitudes and outlook, and she was incredibly naïve for her age. That innocence is wonderful in many ways when you see what today’s youth is like, but easy to mould in the wrong hands.’

Moberg looked at Isaksson in astonishment. ‘Are you saying that it was Pastor Kroon who had the perverted designs on Ebba?’

Isaksson slowly nodded his head. ‘Asplund saw that Kroon was exploiting her unwavering faith in order to groom her; to use that sickening modern phrase. He raised concerns. We thought he was mad. We knew he’d already become disillusioned with Kroon’s teachings, but we thought his accusations were wild; that he had some agenda of his own. We still believed that Kroon was a great man; a visionary. So, Asplund left the church.’

‘What about you, then?’

‘A couple of years later. I was moving to Malmö anyway. I realized that Kroon was making a mockery of the God that I worshipped. By then, I knew that he was… you know… with Ebba.’