Midnight In Malmö: The Fourth Inspector Anita Sundström Mystery (The Malmö Mysteries Book 4) (33 page)

‘We have every right. Surely even your God would approve of you, one of his disciples, helping us try to find the murderer of an innocent young woman.’

‘She was a whore. Ungodly. She got what she deserved.’

Moberg restrained an impulse to reach across the table and grab the pastor by the throat.

‘OK, let’s find out why she became a prostitute. I want to take you back to when you were running the Church of God’s Mission on Earth. The Pozorski family join the congregation. They bring along their pretty daughter, who becomes obsessed with religion. When she was killed, she was wearing this cross.’ Moberg pushed the object into the middle of the table.

‘She shouldn’t have been wearing that.’

‘Despite everything that had happened to her, she still believed. Despite everything you’d done to her.’ The chief inspector nodded to Hakim. Hakim produced a sheaf of papers.

‘These are statements by ex-members of the Church of God’s Mission on Earth that claim that, at the very least, you sexually abused Ebba Pozorski. They include one from Axel Isaksson. Do you deny the allegations?’

Kroon stared at the pieces of paper before returning his gaze to Moberg.

‘There is only one being I’m answerable to. I won’t be judged by the likes of you.’ He stabbed a finger in the direction of the statements. ‘Or them.’

‘Are you saying you played no part in corrupting Ebba Pozorski?’ Moberg pressed angrily.

Kroon remained collected. ‘All I will say is that if anyone was doing the corrupting, it was that girl. She was evil disguised as innocence.’

‘So, you’re trying to tell us that it was Ebba who led
you
astray?’ He ramped up the astonishment in his voice for the benefit of the digital recording.

‘I will let you draw your own conclusions. She died a harlot.’

Hakim could sense that Moberg was about to lose it.

‘Is that why you attacked her with a knife?’ Moberg roared.

Kroon was not intimidated. ‘I was defending myself.’

‘She was stabbed in the shoulder. How could you have been defending yourself if she had her back to you?’

‘I have nothing further to say about that incident.’

Hakim could see they would never get him to admit culpability. In his own warped way, Kroon had probably justified his actions by transferring the guilt to Ebba. Before Moberg lost control, Hakim quickly changed tack.

‘Why did you come into Malmö on Tuesday, the third of June?’

‘Did I? I can’t remember.’

Hakim pushed across the table a CCTV image of the pastor getting off the bus.

‘This is the bus station at Södervärn. It’s SkåneExpressen 8 from Sjöbo. You can see the time and date there,’ said Hakim, pointing. Kroon still avoided looking at the young detective.

‘I must have then.’ he said absently.

‘What was the purpose of your visit?’

‘I am not sure whether it was that date, but I came into Malmö to return some books to the city library.’

‘And doesn’t Sjöbo have a library?’ said Moberg taking over the interview again, his temper now under control.

Kroon gave the chief inspector a contemptuous look. ‘Not with the kind of religious or philosophical works that I find mind-improving.’

Moberg was beginning to dislike Kroon even more than Isaksson.

‘And how long were you at the library?’

‘I spent much of the day there.’

‘And then?’

He sucked in his thick lips. ‘I visited a member of my flock.’

‘Former flock,’ Moberg corrected.

‘The believers – the
true
believers – will always be loyal.’

‘And how long did the visit take?’

He wafted a hand in the air. ‘As long as I was needed.’

‘We can’t find you getting the bus back that day,’ put in Hakim.

‘That’s because I didn’t get the bus back. I stayed the night.’

Both Moberg and Hakim tensed.

‘Can we have the name and address of this person?’ Moberg snapped.

‘He is not well.’

‘Name and address?’

Reluctantly, the cleric gave them the name of man called Jaspar Lindroth living in Dammfri.

‘That’s not far from Pildammsparken. Hakim, get Wallen to check that out immediately.’ Hakim hurried from the room.

‘I don’t want you to distress Lindroth. The man has cancer, for goodness’ sake.’

‘I’m sure Inspector Klara Wallen will be gentle with him. Now, did you go anywhere near Pildammsparken that night?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘As God is my witness.’

‘We’ll let him sweat,’ Moberg said to Hakim as he helped himself to coffee from the vending machine. He took a sip and pulled a face. ‘Why do I buy this crap? It never gets any better.’

‘What do you think?’ Hakim asked.

‘Is he our man? I bloody hope so, but I suspect we’ll have a job proving it. Well, finding enough evidence to satisfy Blom anyway.’

‘He was in Malmö on the night of the murder. He’d attacked Ebba before with a knife.’

Moberg gave a heavy sigh. ‘Again, we can’t prove it. There’s a medical record showing she was treated for the wound in Ystad, but no formal complaint was made by her or her father. So that won’t stand up in court. It’s hearsay.’

They began to wander along the corridor towards Moberg’s office.

‘He’s got a motive. She could still have brought charges against him at any time.’

‘But why now?’

Hakim had to agree that the timing was odd. He could have tracked her down when she was living in Malmö before she moved to Switzerland.

‘Unless he ran into her on that Tuesday. Probably accidently. Maybe something was said, and he realized that she was still a danger to him. She could have threatened to expose him.’

‘And the butterfly knife?’

‘I don’t know. There might be a number of ways he could have got hold of one. Maybe a member of his congregation had been to the States at some time. Or maybe he had. There are a lot of weird religious sects over there.’

‘It’s a problem when there’s no sign of the murder weapon. Look, while we’re waiting for Wallen to speak to Lindroth, get Brodd to go down to the city library and see if the pastor
was
there and for how long. And I know it’s a long shot, but see if Ebba Pozorski went in there that day too.’

The call that came in from Wallen was encouraging. Lindroth had confirmed that Pastor Kroon had visited him on the afternoon of Tuesday, 3rd June at about four o’clock. They had talked and prayed together and, as it was getting late, Kroon asked if he could stay the night. ‘Are you sure it was Kroon who suggested he stay the night?’ Moberg had asked. Wallen confirmed that it had been Kroon’s suggestion. Lindroth had become very tired after their discussions, so he had gone to bed shortly after eight. He left Kroon to fend for himself, but he was adamant that he heard the front door open and close before he dropped off. He wasn’t sure of the time but says it must have been before nine. He has no idea when Kroon came back because he was asleep by then.

Moberg and Hakim were back in the interview room soon after the call from Wallen ended. The chief inspector came straight to the point: ‘The night you stayed with Lindroth; where did you go out to?’

‘It was hot in Jaspar’s apartment. I went out for some fresh air.’

‘And where did you go?’

‘Along the streets. I’m not sure where. I don’t know the district well.’

‘You didn’t happen to go to Pildammsparken?’

‘Do you not listen? I have already told you that I did not go to the park.’

Moberg had already recognized that Kroon was going to be a tough nut to crack, but at least they knew he had motive – and now, opportunity. He could feel that they were getting closer.

Kevin was on his second cup of tea when Anita returned from the polishus. He had taken up a seat in one of the café areas in the newly laid out Central Station. It reminded him of Kastrup Airport, which they had just come through a couple of hours before. He had been tempted to wander round Malmö for a while to get to know the city a little, but decided that he didn’t want to go sauntering off with the possibility of secret service operatives in the vicinity. From the station, he had allowed himself a peek at the Savoy Hotel. In its art nouveau magnificence, it purported to be every bit as chic and expensive as its London counterpart. It was there that the mess they had got themselves into had begun in 1917. It was extraordinary to think that Lenin had walked through the very arch he was standing under, had crossed that bridge over the canal to eat at that hotel, and there have his life saved by a Swedish waiter – an action which impacted on millions. And caught up in the dying ripples of that one brave deed were the deaths of the saviour’s son and an innocent historian nearly a century after the event.

Over his cups of breakfast tea, he had played over again in his mind the mad plan he had concocted. There was no way that they could take on a secret government organization like the KSI, or whoever it was behind the killings. It would be impossible for Anita to bring anybody to justice for the murders. The system would make sure that never happened. So, instead of waiting nervously for their adversaries to make a move on Anita once he had gone back to England, he’d reckoned that it was best to go to them and try to put them on the back foot. His idea was to flush them out – with himself as bait.

Anita arrived looking pale. She tapped her bag, and he understood that she had collected her police pistol.

‘Any questions?’

‘No. I didn’t bump into anybody. They must all be busy.’

She glanced at her watch.

‘Train’s in five minutes. We’d better go.’

With a sense of foreboding, Kevin gulped down the last of his tea and followed Anita towards the platforms.

Jazmin had slept heavily last night. The two paracetamols had helped. When she turned over and stretched out, she saw that Lasse was not lying next to her. The first hint of panic was when she realized there was no indentation in his pillow. She had changed the bedding yesterday afternoon. He worked at the Kungsgatan café until late on a Tuesday but would normally be back around midnight. Usually, he crept into bed and they’d snuggle up. Last night, she had gone out like a light. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to disturb her and had slept on the uncomfortable sofa they’d bought second-hand at Myrona. He’d probably started playing his stupid football computer game and just dropped off. She opened the door to the little living room and was greeted by Messi, who nuzzled around her ankles before darting off into the kitchen for her to feed him. There was no Lasse. After his late shifts, he never left early the next morning because he didn’t have lectures until eleven. It was now 8.03 am.

She looked around the apartment, which was so small that the task took under a minute. Why? She didn’t know, because it was obvious he wasn’t there. A reflex reaction? Her mouth was still dry from the night’s sleep. Now she could hardly breathe. She tried to gulp in lungfuls of air and had to grab the edge of the draining board for support. As she gradually calmed down, she chided herself for her loss of control. There must be a simple explanation. Maybe he’d stayed the night with one of his fellow workers. He was friendly with a guy called Leo. That would be it. He’d probably left a message on her mobile. And then it hit her again that she hadn’t had a mobile since it had been stolen at Mobilia. She still hadn’t had the courage to mention that to Lasse. She would definitely tell him later today and face up to his anger and annoyance. He’d probably go straight to lectures instead of coming out to Rosengård, but he should be back by four. She’d cook him his favourite meal. After all, she had been a bit cranky lately. All this business about being watched had made her tetchy, and it hadn’t helped that he hadn’t believed her. Maybe she
had
dreamt the whole thing up.

Jazmin felt better now as she scooped out the last of the cheap tin of cat food into Messi’s bowl. She watched him devour the fishy-smelling mash. As she boiled up the kettle, she resolved to go out and get a cheap pay-as-you-go mobile phone to tide her over. They couldn’t afford a landline telephone, so she felt that she had to have some point of contact. And to ring Lasse, just to make sure he was all right.

‘It’s not a good idea. I don’t want you anywhere near.’

‘You can’t go alone.’

‘It’ll be fine. Anyway, they’ll be keeping an eye on you. Not me. You’re the one who’s stirred things up. I’m the outsider.’

‘But he’s my contact.’

‘I’m sure I can give him all the details. And once it’s in the public domain, then we’ll be OK. They can’t move against you then. You do trust him, don’t you?’

‘He’s good; one of the best investigative journalists in the business. A conspiracy like this is right up his street. And with his contacts, he’ll help blow it wide open and give it massive coverage. It’s a helluva story.’

‘I’m meeting him at nine. It should be quiet then.’

‘You must be careful,’ she said with obvious concern. ‘Remember what happened to Klas.’

‘Don’t worry; they won’t be stupid enough to kill a British police officer – there’d be too many awkward questions. And I won’t be stupid enough to let them.’ He turned away from her. ‘I could do with a swim. Are you coming down to the beach?’

‘Give me a minute.’

Five minutes later, Anita and Kevin were heading down the path to the beach.

‘Do you think we sounded convincing?’ Anita asked as she walked in front of Kevin down the steep incline.

‘I hope so.’

They had rehearsed the conversation a number of times. They’d decided to keep it simple and not give away too much information. The bugging devices would have picked up the whole thing. The listeners would have to piece together some of the details themselves so it didn’t sound too contrived. Enough to whet their appetite. Who was Kevin going to meet? Without an actual name, they would have to speculate. Whoever it was would be a threat to them if he was an investigative journalist; how much had they told this guy? And though they’d been given the time for the fictitious meeting, they didn’t know the location. They would have to follow Kevin. He and Anita had selected Stenshuvud. Anita would have plenty of cover among the trees. Kevin would drive her car the long way round to the site, coming in from the Kivik side. In the meantime, using her friend Sandra’s car, Anita would get to Stenshuvud before Kevin and his shadows. They knew they were taking a huge risk. Klas had been going to tell what he knew, and now he was dead. But anything was better than living in fear.