The Dead of Summer (13 page)

‘Know him? He was my partner. We ran the company together.’

Johan then realized that this man standing in front of him had to be Johnny Ekwall. He couldn’t believe their luck.

‘So you’re Johnny? Could we have a talk with you?’

‘Not if you’re going to shoot video. I don’t want to be on TV.’

‘That’s fine. I promise we won’t.’

Johnny Ekwall cast a glance at the construction workers, who looked at the reporters with curiosity for a moment before returning to what they were doing. Then Johnny turned on his heel and went back inside the shed. He left the door open, which Johan took to be an invitation.

He and Pia followed. Inside the shed was a row of metal lockers, a bench and a stainless-steel sink with a dusty mirror hanging above it.

They passed through an opening into what seemed to be a kitchen. On a simple table next to the window was a plastic container of biscuits and several dirty coffee mugs. Along the wall stood a refrigerator and a shelf holding a microwave and a stained coffee-maker. In a corner, several mattresses had been propped against the wall. They all sat down at the table, and Johnny poured the coffee, shoving forward the biscuits. Johan decided to get right to the point.

‘We’ve heard that Peter Bovide was being threatened. What do you know about that?’

‘Where did you hear that?’

‘I can’t tell you. We have to protect our sources.’

‘OK. Does that mean that if I tell you something, you won’t tell anyone else?’

‘We won’t say that you were the one who gave us the information. If that’s what you prefer.’

Johnny Ekwall took a gulp of the lukewarm coffee.

‘Hmm … I don’t know,’ he said hesitantly. ‘There’s been a bit of trouble lately. Peter was the one who took care of paying the guys, but I think we’re behind. With their wages, I mean. And a few workers have been unhappy, saying they should be paid more, things like that. But Peter always took care of these matters himself; he never discussed them with me.’

‘Do you know if he was being threatened?’

‘He told me several times that he thought he was being watched, that somebody was spying on him.’

‘Is that right? Why did he think so?’

‘I don’t know. I think it was mostly a gut feeling he had.’

Johan leaned forward and lowered his voice.

‘The thing is, we’ve heard from a very reliable source that he actually was being threatened, for real. He wasn’t just imagining things. So, what do you know about it?’

Johnny Ekwall fidgeted nervously. His expression again turned suspicious.

‘Where did you hear that?’

‘As I said before, I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. We’re reporters, and we have to protect our sources. It’s not the same thing as talking to the police.’

Ekwall regarded Johan for a moment in silence.

‘Do you promise you won’t tell that I was the one who told you? I don’t want to get in any trouble.’

‘We promise.’

‘Well, Peter got some strange phone calls, mysterious types who rang up anonymously, but he never wanted to discuss it. He said they were just a couple of idiots, nothing to worry about. It had to do with financial matters, and he always wanted to keep that bit to himself.’

‘Can you tell us anything else about these phone calls?’

‘Somebody would ring and start making threats, saying that if Peter didn’t pay the wages we owed … But that was only recently.’

‘Why are you behind in paying the wages? Isn’t the company doing well?’

‘Yes, it is. But we have a big client who hasn’t been paying us on time. And then we can’t pay the wages, and we end up falling behind.’

‘Who’s been complaining?’

‘Mostly the guys from Poland and the Baltics who’ve been working for us. They get paid less than those in the union; that’s only natural. I suppose they’ve started comparing notes with the others.’

‘Peter was apparently being threatened by several individuals who were thought to be from either Finland or the Baltics. They went to his house several weeks ago. Do you know anything about that?’

‘Yes, he told me about them, and it made me nervous, but he said there was no reason to worry.’

‘Do you know the nationality of the people who made the phone calls?’

‘No, he didn’t mention where they were from. And I didn’t think to ask.’

‘Do you have any Swedish workers on this job site?’ asked Pia.

‘No, not at this one.’

‘How many employees does the company have altogether?’

‘Three full-time construction workers, besides me and Peter. And Linda, our secretary. We bring in other employees as we need them.’

‘What’s your opinion about the murder? I mean, who do you think might have done it?’

‘There’s no doubt that it’s made me think about those threats and whether they might have something to do with the murder.’

‘Are you worried for your own safety?’

‘Not really, although of course the thought has crossed my mind.’

‘What are you going to do about the company now?’

‘I’ll keep running it, along with Linda. We’ll buy out Peter’s share – provided Vendela agrees, of course. She’s part-owner now. And if she does, Linda can handle the finances.’

‘Will she be able to do that?’

‘Sure. She studied economics in school. And she’s taken a bunch of courses. One thing is certain – we’re going to pay all those back wages so we can keep the employees happy. Although at the moment we can’t do a damn thing because the police have got their mitts on our account books.’

‘So you and Peter actually disagreed on how the company should be run?’ asked Pia.

‘Hell no, I don’t think you can say that. Not really. We had a good partnership, Peter and I.’

FÅRÖSUND, 18 JULY 1985

VERA WAS SEIZED by a feeling of unreality as the bus from Visby turned and then headed towards the Fårö ferry dock. The sea was spread out before them, with the island of Fårö across the channel. Car ferries shuttled back and forth between the two islands, and a long queue of cars was winding its way down to the harbour
.

The boat to Gotska Sandön was expected on one side of the dock, where a crowd had already gathered. Before joining the group, Vera and her family dashed into the ICA supermarket to buy some last-minute provisions. There were no shops on the island, and they had to bring with them everything they wanted to eat and drink. Oleg ran enthusiastically up and down the aisles while the girls’ mother, Sabine, walked around consulting her grocery list and ticking off what they needed to buy
.

‘
Do you want anything else, girls?’ Oleg asked. ‘We won’t have to carry everything, because somebody’s going to pick up what we’ve bought, so it’s OK if you want to buy a little extra. Go ahead and choose whatever you feel like eating
.’

He reached for a package of chocolate cakes, and in the next instant exclaimed: ‘Cheese and crackers would be the perfect snack for tonight! We already have red wine. And didn’t we pack some candles?
’

Down on the dock, more and more people had gathered to wait for the boat. Rucksacks, coolers and bags of food were stacked up in heaps. There were families with children, couples and birdwatchers. Real fanatics, thought Vera as she looked at their binoculars and other sophisticated outdoor gear. Many looked as if they were used to spending time in the woods and fields. Everyone was wearing heavy boots or had a pair
fastened to their rucksack along with flasks and all sorts of other things
.

An air of anticipation hovered over the crowd
.

‘
Look! There it is!
’

Oleg had his binoculars raised to his eyes to survey the sea, and he had just caught sight of the ferry. The next second, everyone could see the white boat approaching. It wasn’t especially big. A young man came out on the foredeck to cast out a line. Slowly and steadily the captain manoeuvred the boat close to the dock. The passengers on board had formed a chain and began transferring all the bags off the boat. Rucksacks, suitcases and rolled-up tents were passed from hand to hand until they eventually ended up on shore, where two older, sinewy men then lined them all up on the dock. Oleg eagerly lent a hand
.

When everything was ready and they were finally allowed on board, Vera and Tanya hurried to find seats on deck in the stern so they’d be able to soak up as much sun as possible during the two-hour crossing
.

They leaned back comfortably as they watched the little village of Fårösund fade into the distance on one side while Fårö disappeared on the other
.

They were soon out on the open sea
.

Vera listened to the thudding motor, the cries of the seagulls and the chatter of the other passengers. She was looking forward to their stay on the island
.

KNUTAS WAS NOT pleased with the Regional News report on TV that evening. His face took on a resigned expression as he and Jacobsson sat in the staff room watching the news programme.

Johan Berg appeared to be standing at a construction site somewhere on Gotland, but it was impossible to tell exactly where he was. Then he began filing his story: ‘This is one of the projects that Peter Bovide’s company, Slite Construction, is working on. Behind me a classic limestone house is being built very close to the sea. Working at the site are some of the temporary employees hired by the company. And according to information obtained by Regional News, it’s the workers from Poland and the Baltics who are dissatisfied with both their wages and the working conditions. Several independent sources have told Regional News that Bovide had received threats on more than one occasion over the past six months, and that these threats have been linked to his temporary workers. According to co-workers at the company, it was the murder victim who was responsible for paying the wages. No one else at Slite Construction has received similar threats. The police refuse to discuss how this lead in the investigation is being handled.’

Then a close-up of Lars Norrby appeared on the screen, with police headquarters in the background.

‘Of course we’re investigating several different leads in the case, but I can’t say whether one is of greater interest than the others. We’re taking a broad approach, without any preconceptions. We don’t want to be locked into any one theory.’

‘But what do you think about the information that threats had been directed against Peter Bovide?’

‘That’s not something I can comment on at the moment. As I said, we’re working on a broad front. This is just one lead among many.’

KNUTAS SWITCHED OFF the TV angrily when the report was finished.

‘How the hell did they get hold of that information?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘And that part about Bovide being threatened by construction workers from the Baltics who are unhappy about their wages – that’s more than we’ve been able to find out! Why didn’t Norrby say anything to us about it? That’s a really interesting lead. I also wonder how much this is going to damage the investigation. Now the perp is probably going to take off running.’

‘Sure, if he happens to be one of the construction workers. But we don’t actually know that,’ said Jacobsson acerbicly. ‘And I heard that Johan didn’t talk to Norrby about all this until an hour ago. So Lars really hasn’t had time to report to us. You forget that he’s a single father with two sons to take care of. And this information isn’t something that we can rush off and do something about tonight. Don’t you agree?’

Ever since Knutas had cut short his holiday to come back to work, Jacobsson had been having trouble deciding how to deal with her boss. On the one hand, she was happy to see him again, but on the other, she would have liked to handle the investigation on her own. By coming back home, he had robbed her of that challenge. She wondered if he realized this.

‘By the way, how’s it going with the examination of the company’s books? You’re keeping tabs on that, right?’ he asked urgently.

‘It’s not something that can be done overnight,’ she replied. ‘I’m sure that the fraud division is working overtime on it.’

Thomas Wittberg came into the room. They could tell from his expression that something had happened.

‘Hi, I’ve got a damn good tip,’ he said urgently. ‘One of Vendela Bovide’s friends who works at the same beauty salon has contacted us. She said that Peter Bovide had been threatened by some men who came to the house, and she thinks they were illegal workers from the Baltics. The last time was just a week before the murder.’

‘How does she know about this?’

‘Vendela told her.’

Jacobsson and Knutas exchanged glances.

‘In the interview she repeatedly denied any such thing. We’re going to need to bring her in again,’ said Knutas.

He looked at Wittberg.

‘Great that you turned up just at this moment. Now we know, at any rate, where the TV reporters got their information. We definitely need to have a talk with that woman.’

FRIDAY, 14 JULY

THURSDAY PASSED WITHOUT anything else important coming to light that might move the investigation forward. Both Vendela Bovide and her friend Anna Nyberg had been interviewed, and the police were able to confirm that Peter Bovide had been threatened several times during the weeks prior to his death. His widow finally admitted that she knew about the threats, but she hadn’t wanted to say anything because it involved the hiring of illegal workers.

Everybody having anything at all to do with Slite Construction was interviewed, but no one contributed any information that the police hadn’t already known.

When the investigative team gathered for the Friday morning meeting, they were greeted by a beaming Kihlgård, who stood in the doorway to welcome them by singing the ‘Marseillaise’ at the top of his lungs.

Enthroned atop the light pine table in the middle of the room were two big chocolate cakes decorated with miniature French flags attached to toothpicks.

‘What’s this all about?’ asked Wittberg. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was clearly suffering from a hangover. His blond hair stuck out in all directions and he was holding a bottle of Coca-Cola in one hand. For many years Wittberg had been the department’s Don Juan, but a year ago he’d settled down and moved in with his girlfriend. Then early in the summer their relationship had fallen apart, as was clearly evident. Now he was back to his old partying ways.