Текст книги "Still Waters"

Автор книги: Viveca Sten

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

CHAPTER 58

Thomas had gratefully accepted the loan of the Linde family’s launch so he could get over to his own house on Harö for the night and come back to Sandhamn the following morning in plenty of time to see Philip Fahlén. He moored the little boat at the Lindes’ jetty and set off for Västerudd at a rapid pace. It was slightly cooler than it had been earlier in the week; the morning air was fresh and clear. A much more pleasant temperature than the stifling heat of the last few days.

As he walked he took the opportunity to call Carina. He asked her to find out if Marianne Strindberg was married to a man called Viking and if they both lived at the same address in Tyresö that appeared on the registration certificate for Fahlén & Co. When she confirmed that this was the case, Thomas couldn’t help smiling.

Philip Fahlén opened the door as soon as Thomas knocked. Reluctantly he showed Thomas into the kitchen and pointed to a chair. He didn’t look well; his face was red, and he had noticeable bags under his eyes.

“So,” he said, “what is it this time?”

“I’d like to ask you a few more questions.”

Thomas ignored the obvious antipathy coming from Fahlén. This time he was determined to back the man into a corner. He sat down; Fahlén moved to the other side of the table, as far away from Thomas as possible.

“I’m interested in your company. I believe it’s been doing much better over the past few years? You’ve made an impressive profit since the millennium, as I understand it.”

“What’s it to you?”

“Could you answer the question, please?”

Fahlén glanced around. “Things have gone pretty well. There’s nothing odd about that. We’ve been successful for years.”

“How do you explain the fact that your profits have tripled?”

“We’ve put the effort in. If you work hard, you make money. It’s no mystery.”

“You must have worked extremely hard. As far as I can see, your profit margin is much higher than the industry norm.”

“Is that against the law?”

“That’s not what I said. But it’s rather unusual. I’d be interested to hear how you’ve achieved such excellent results.” He leaned back in his chair.

Fahlén stood up abruptly and went over to the sink. He took a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water. He kept his back to Thomas as he drank.

“Did you understand the question?” Thomas asked.

No response.

Thomas spoke more sharply. “Answer the question.”

Fahlén turned around, an aggressive look in his eye. “Are you deaf? I just told you, we’ve worked hard. Picked up new clients, secured large orders. That’s what happens when you do business.” He turned back to the sink. “Isn’t a man allowed to work in this fucking police state these days without some asshole turning up and quizzing him?”

A thick silence spread through the room. Thomas waited, not moving a muscle.

The only sound came from Philip Fahlén’s throat as he gulped down more water.

“Who’s Marianne Strindberg?” Thomas asked.

Fahlén gave a start. “What?”

“Could you tell me who Marianne Strindberg is?”

“She’s a member of my board.”

“Why?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I’d like to know why she’s on the board. She hasn’t been there very long, has she?”

“She’s an economist. I thought it would be useful to have someone like her.”

“And you suddenly realized this four years ago, having managed perfectly well for many years with only your father on the board?”

“What’s my father got to do with this?” Fahlén was extremely agitated.

Thomas decided it was time for a change of tack. “How come the payment to your board members has gone up from fifty thousand to six hundred thousand kronor since Marianne Strindberg joined?”

“That’s none of your business,” said Fahlén, tearing off a paper towel and mopping his brow. “But if you must know, I thought it was time I paid the board members a little more. Is that not allowed?” He spread his arms wide and looked at Thomas.

“Of course, but it’s rather unusual,” Thomas said as he studied the fat man’s expression. “Would you like to know what I think?”

“Not really.”

Thomas decided there was no point in beating around the bush. “I think you raised the fees payable to board members because you had to pay Marianne Strindberg for the services supplied by her husband.”

Fahlén tried to appear unmoved, but then he turned pale and reached out a hand to lean against the sink.

Thomas fixed his gaze on Fahlén. “I happen to know that Marianne Strindberg, who is a member of your board, is married to Viking Strindberg, who works for Systemet. And I have a feeling this same Viking Strindberg helps you out with special deliveries; he smuggles out wine and spirits, which you sneak into various restaurants along with the equipment you supply, and your clients reward you handsomely. This additional source of income is the reason your turnover suddenly increased so significantly, and it explains why you earn so much more than anyone else in the industry.” Thomas leaned back and folded his arms. He stared at Fahlén with a challenging gaze. “That’s what I think,” he said after a moment. His words hung in the air, vibrating with energy long after they had been uttered.

Fahlén had had enough. He wiped his brow again; it was covered in beads of sweat. He pointed at the door with a shaking hand. “Out,” he said. “Get out of my house. You have no right to come here making accusations. I’m calling my lawyer.”

Thomas gazed at him calmly, wondering if he should stay and try to get Fahlén to answer a few more questions.

Fahlén was so agitated that there was spittle at the corners of his mouth. His chin was trembling, and a muscle just below his left eye was twitching.

Thomas decided to leave. There wasn’t much point in trying to wind him up even more. It would be better to bring him into the station as soon as they were absolutely certain of his relationship with Viking Strindberg and had access to his phone records.

Thomas got up and moved to the door. As he opened it he turned back. “I’ll be in touch,” he said. “Soon.”

“Get out,” Fahlén panted. “Get out.”

CHAPTER 59

Henrik walked into the kitchen, seething.

Nora, who was busy making pancakes for the following day’s trip to Grönskär, raised her eyebrows. “What’s happened?”

“What’s happened is that our new perch net has a great big hole in it,” Henrik said. “The boys have been playing in the boathouse, and now we have a ripped net and several tears in the flounder rig. It’s going to take forever to repair them, and I was supposed to be out laying nets with Hasse Christiansson today.”

Nora tried to look sympathetic. “It’s not the end of the world.”

Henrik looked angry, and Nora backtracked.

“I realize you’re annoyed, but we can always buy a new one. I suppose that’s why we get child benefits, to pay for all the trouble they cause,” she joked.

Henrik was still mad. “They have to learn to be careful with things. I’m sick and tired of them leaving their stuff all over the place and breaking everything.” He stood at the bottom of the stairs and shouted. “Simon, Adam, get down here right now. I want to talk to you.”

“We haven’t done anything,” came the chorus from their bedroom.

“Get down here, I said.”

“Couldn’t you ask Signe if you can borrow a net? She’s got lots,” Nora suggested. She was trying to avoid a fight and to rescue the fishing trip at the same time.

Henrik allowed himself to be appeased and lowered his voice. “Can’t you ask her? You know her better than I do.”

“Of course,” Nora said, relieved that the crisis seemed to have been averted. “I’ll go over in a minute when I’ve finished these pancakes.”

Nora opened the beautiful handmade double gate leading to the Brand house. She walked up to the front door and knocked. There were no doorbells on Sandhamn. The door would be left open, and you would just shout out a cautious “hello” before walking in, or knock loudly. Either approach was fine, as long as you announced your presence in some way.

Signe opened the door wearing her usual apron, the one Nora had seen her in for so many years. Sometimes Nora wondered whether Signe, like the Phantom with all his outfits in the Skull Cave, had an endless supply of identical aprons hidden away somewhere, so she could just bring out a new one when the old one wore out.

Nora greeted her cheerfully. “I wonder if we could possibly borrow one of your perch nets? Adam and Simon have managed to rip ours. They were supposed to be out laying nets today, so otherwise we’ll end up with no dinner!” She winked at Signe. “As you can imagine, Henrik isn’t pleased. He’s just banned the boys from using the computer for two hours as a punishment. They’ll never play in the boathouse without permission again!”

“Of course you can borrow a net. Just go down and take whatever you want.”

Kajsa came to the door and pushed her wet nose into Nora’s leg. Nora bent down to pet her. Kajsa was the sweetest dog in the world. The gray hairs around her nose gave away the fact that she was getting old, just like her mistress.

Signe handed over the key to the boathouse. “Just make sure the net is clean before you put it back!”

Nora smiled. A net full of seaweed was no joke. Signe knew what she was talking about. You could beat the net with juniper branches forever without getting it really clean. It was Signe who had taught Nora that the best way of cleaning a really dirty net was to bury it in the ground for a few weeks. Somehow the enzymes in the ground broke down the seaweed; it simply disappeared, and the net was miraculously clean. An old archipelago trick that came in handy from time to time.

Nora went down to the boathouse, which was right next to the jetty belonging to the Brand property. It was absolutely typical, painted Falu red with a green door.

Many people on the island envied Signe the large jetty that had space for so many boats. The demand for moorings was always greater than the supply. The bulletin board in the harbor was always full of notes from boat owners who had no mooring. The going rate for a summer berth had shot up recently and had now reached several thousand kronor. Quite a number of residents made some extra cash by renting out vacant moorings at their own jetties. Signe allowed two families who had owned summer cottages on Sandhamn for a long time to rent berths at the Brand jetty for a reasonable sum.

Nora unlocked the boathouse door with the old, heavy key. It was quite gloomy inside, and the small light on the ceiling didn’t really help much. Now where were the perch nets? She looked along the wall. Most of the nets were in a good state of repair, but the odd one was old and torn. Nora turned over the net needle in one of the worst and noticed that it bore the initials KL instead of SB. Obviously someone else was keeping nets in Signe’s boathouse; perhaps it was one of the summer visitors?

She found the nets she was looking for at the back on the right-hand side. She unhooked two of them and carefully carried them out into the sunshine. She locked the boathouse, then carried the nets down to their own jetty, where Henrik was busy getting the boat ready.

“There you go.” She handed the nets over carefully so they wouldn’t get tangled. “I hope you catch lots of fish. I suppose we’ll need to eat early if you’re in the twenty-four-hour race. It starts at midnight, doesn’t it?”

“If we eat around five that should give me plenty of time; I don’t need to leave until nine,” said Henrik, who had calmed down considerably. He smiled warmly at her, and it felt as if he were trying to smooth over the disagreements of the past few days.

“Actually, I’ve got something exciting to tell you,” Nora said, crossing her fingers behind her back. “Something I’d like to have a chat about this evening. But you’d better set off now before it gets too late.”

Henrik helped Adam into the boat. He had nagged and nagged to be allowed to go along and help with the nets.

Nora blew him a kiss. “Promise you’ll be good?”

Adam looked at her and saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain. I’ll be really, really good. Especially if I’m allowed to steer the boat,” he said with a shy glance at Henrik, worried that his escapade with the nets might have scuppered his chances of taking the wheel.

Henrik laughed and ruffled Adam’s hair. Harmony had been restored.

“Come on, Tiger. Let’s go. Of course you can steer for a little while.”

Nora wandered pensively back to the house, wondering how to tell Henrik that she really wanted to take the job in Malmö.

They hadn’t mentioned it again after the argument on Saturday night. She hadn’t found the right moment to tell him that she’d had a meeting in town with the recruitment agency.

Nora felt that she wanted to talk to him before he left for the race, so he would have time to digest it while he was away.

Tonight. After dinner.

That ought to be a good time.

CHAPTER 60

Call Marcus Björk at the ferry company, said the note on Thomas’s desk when he got back to the station after catching the eleven o’clock boat back to the mainland.

I ought to get a season ticket for the Waxholmsbolaget ferries, he thought. It was such a nuisance keeping track of all the receipts that had to be handed in when he was claiming his expenses. Occasionally he managed to hitch a ride with the maritime police, but their schedule didn’t usually fit in with his, and they had fewer and fewer boats these days.

A phone number was written on the note; he called Margit, and they sat down at his desk. Margit dialed the number and switched to speakerphone so they could both follow the conversation.

“Marcus Björk, how may I help you?” The voice sounded youthful and enthusiastic. Thomas pictured an ambitious, apple-cheeked young man.

“This is Margit Grankvist from Nacka police. My colleague Thomas Andreasson is also listening to this conversation. I believe you called us earlier?”

“Absolutely. Thanks for calling back. I work in the admin department of the ferry company; we supplied you with passenger lists for our ferries from Stockholm to Helsinki yesterday. I’m sorry it took such a long time, but we got them to you as soon as we could. We had a computer glitch that caused us all kinds of hassle.”

“I understand.”

“I’ve now spoken to the captain who was on duty on the Sunday you asked about, almost two weeks ago. He told me a couple of teenagers did actually report seeing someone fall overboard on that particular evening. However, they didn’t report it until they were just about to disembark the following day, and there was nothing else to suggest anything had happened. It also appeared that the teenagers had been quite drunk the previous evening, so the captain made a judgment call and decided nothing had happened.” Marcus Björk laughed nervously.

“So what happened next?” Margit asked.

“Not much, unfortunately. It was difficult to take these teenagers seriously. I can’t tell you how many people claim all kinds of things that never happened.” The last comment sounded rather anxious, as if Marcus Björk was afraid that someone might have made a huge mistake. “But as you’d asked for the passenger lists, I thought you’d want to know that something had actually been reported relating to that particular evening.”

Thomas and Margit looked at one another; Margit gave Thomas a thumbs-up.

“Names?” she mouthed to Thomas.

Thomas leaned closer to the telephone. “Do you have the names of the two teenagers?”

“Yes, we have their names and addresses. The captain made a note of where they lived, just to be on the safe side. Thank goodness.” Marcus Björk no longer sounded quite so enthusiastic; anxiety was taking over.

“Excellent,” said Thomas, nodding at Margit. “Could you e-mail me the information as soon as possible?”

“Of course.” There was a brief silence. “Please let us know if we can be of assistance with anything else,” Marcus Björk said.

“Do you have CCTV cameras on board?” Margit asked.

“We do indeed, all over the ship.”

“In that case we would very much like the tapes from the Sunday before last. Monday to Wednesday as well, if you don’t mind. As soon as possible.”

“Absolutely; I’ll sort it out as soon as the ship gets back.”

Margit looked at the clock and sighed. “And when will that be?”

“Let’s see . . .” Judging from the sounds in the background, Marcus Björk was leafing through piles of paper.

“Surely he ought to know this off the top of his head,” Thomas muttered to Margit.

“Late this afternoon. She’s due out again at seven this evening.”

Margit twirled a pen between her fingers as Thomas ended the conversation.

“Could we possibly be lucky enough to find that the CCTV cameras caught Jonny Almhult and his killer?” Margit said. She tore off the sheet of paper on which she had been doodling, crumpled it up, and threw it with deadly accuracy into the trash can in the far corner. Then she gave Thomas a skeptical look. “Or would that be too much to hope for?”

He leafed through his notebook, where he had jotted down a reminder about tapping Viking Strindberg’s phone. “What did the prosecutor say about that phone tap we discussed?”

Margit rolled her eyes. “She didn’t like it, of course. They never do. But I just had to quote the relevant section from the Code of Judicial Procedure, chapter twenty-seven.” Margit knew it by heart. “Covert telephone surveillance may be used during a preliminary investigation into crimes that would incur a custodial sentence of no less than six months.” She looked very pleased with herself. “If someone’s smuggling booze worth millions from Systemet, then selling it tax-free to various restaurants, I think he’d go down for more than six months, don’t you?”

Thomas smiled to himself as he thought about Charlotte Öhman’s reluctance to give permission for the phone tap. The procedure didn’t sit well with many people’s perception of where the boundaries lay in a democratic society, but it was a powerful tool in a police investigation and often provided key pieces of evidence.

On this occasion the prosecutor appeared to have given in surprisingly quickly.

“It’s being set up today if our colleagues do as they’ve been told,” Margit said. “I’ve put Kalle on it. He’s also going through all the calls over the past few weeks.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Do you think he might possibly find the odd call from Viking Strindberg to Philip Fahlén?” She weighed her cell phone in one hand, gazing at it. “I’m always surprised at how lax criminals are when they use their phones. I mean, everyone knows it’s possible to trace calls these days. We can even pinpoint the area where a call was made, more or less. It was easier to commit crimes back in the old days.”

CHAPTER 61

Thomas looked suspiciously at his beeping cell phone. He was speaking to Margit on the landline; she had given up for the evening and had gone home for something to eat. She had only just sat down at the table when Thomas called. He had interviewed the captain of the ferry on which Jonny Almhult was thought to have traveled.

“Margit, hang on. I’ve got a text. I’ll just check and see what it is.”

Thomas opened the message:

Philip Fahlén taken to the hospital by helicopter. Critical.

The message had been sent at 6:57, from Carina’s phone.

“What does it say?” Margit asked.

Thomas jumped; he had almost forgotten she was on the other end of the phone. He quickly read her the message.

“Does it say why?” she asked.

“No.” Thomas hesitated. Should he briefly summarize his discussion with the captain of the huge ferry? The man had more or less repeated what Marcus Björk had said. Or should he find out what had happened to Philip Fahlén? He decided on the latter. “Listen, I’ll speak to Carina and call you back.”

He hung up and called Carina.

She answered immediately. “I tried to call you,” she said, “but the line was busy, and I thought you’d want to know this right away.”

“What’s happened?” Thomas asked.

“Fahlén was picked up by the air ambulance on Sandhamn at around four o’clock this afternoon. They flew him to Danderyd hospital, and he’s in intensive care.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I couldn’t get much out of them; you know how sensitive patient confidentiality is.”

Thomas tried to suppress his impatience. “So what did they say?”

“It seems to be a brain hemorrhage. Apparently he was unconscious when the air ambulance picked him up.”

“A brain hemorrhage?” The surprise in Thomas’s voice was unmistakable.

Carina went on. “I’ll call again in an hour and see what I can find out. They should be able to tell me something about his condition, at least.”

Thomas’s thoughts began to wander. Had Fahlén suffered an ordinary stroke? Or had someone managed to get him to ingest enough rat poison to trigger a potentially fatal hemorrhage?

Which was what had happened to Kicki Berggren.

Was a pattern being repeated right before their eyes? And if so, who was responsible? If someone had poisoned Fahlén, then that person must also be behind the three deaths. They had no idea who that person was or where he might be, but it was absolutely essential to track him down.

“Call me as soon as you’ve spoken to them again, whatever time it is,” Thomas said. “And find out when we can go and speak to him.”

Carina sighed. “I’ve already asked, and it didn’t go well. The nurse I spoke to emphasized the fact that he could die; his condition is extremely serious. He might never regain consciousness. She almost told me off for even mentioning it.”

“Ask anyway. If he does come around, it’s absolutely essential that we have the chance to speak to him.”

“OK,” came the subdued response.

There was a brief silence before the connection was broken.

“Before we have another murder on our hands,” Thomas said.