Grendel's Game (28 page)

“Where will you put the mics?”

“We'll use three: one in the living room, one in the kitchen/dining area, and one in the bedroom. If there are two bedrooms, one in each. These mics will be invisible the way we'll plant them, and they're state of the art, sensitive enough to pick up anything in a room, even a whisper. We'll be in and out in ten minutes.”

“And where will you be listening?” Rystrom asked the detectives.

“We've brought a van with recording equipment that'll be parked on a side street two blocks from the apartment,” responded Hans Bergner, the lead detective, small, thin, with wispy brown hair, looking a decade older than his thirty-four years.

“You'll need to coordinate with the team watching Lindfors and a guy named Carl Stillen, who's been visiting her, to make sure they're both out of the apartment. I'll give you the team's mobiles,” he said; consulting a list and writing down Vinter's and Holm's numbers, Rystrom handed the paper to Bergner. “They'll be in touch with you.”

“Sounds like we're good to go,” said Bergner, standing up.

After they'd left, Rystrom phoned Gerdi Vinter, telling her she and Holm would need to contact Bergner and giving her his number.

“Enar is taking the meeting this morning, so I'll call Bergner when they've both gone,” she said.

48

The Leak

R
ystrom was reviewing the Lindfors and Stillen bios that had been e-mailed to him from CID headquarters that morning when the phone rang.

“Rapp is the leak,” said the man's voice on the phone, and repeated it again before Rystrom could interrupt.

“Who is this?” demanded Rystrom, but he was talking into a dial tone. The man had hung up.

Rystrom got out the newspaper with Haeggman's story under the screaming headline. Looking through it, he found the reference he remembered to ‘a reliable police source.' Could it be Rapp? If it was, then who called? Certainly not Rapp or Haeggman.

Perhaps there was someone on the investigating team who knew, or suspected, that Rapp was the leak, and wanted to alert them. But why didn't he call Ekman? The caller might think he'd be reluctant to act, because he'd worked with Rapp for many years, and so instead, called Rystrom, the outsider. Possibly, the man didn't identify himself to avoid becoming involved in an investigation and the focus of the intense police dislike for internal whistle-blowers.

E
kman looked up as Rystrom knocked and entered. Rystrom told him about setting up the listening surveillance, and then, the phone call.

“There have been some leaks from someone inside the investigation, but they've been circulating only in the department,” said Ekman. “I never would have guessed that it was Rapp, and that he'd go outside to the media. And especially not to Haeggman; he doesn't like him any more than I do. But let's get him in now and ask him point-blank.” He picked up the phone.

When Rapp came in he saw Rystrom and Ekman regarding him with tight faces. Ekman didn't ask him to sit down.

“Alrik, we've been told you're the source for this morning's headline,” Ekman said in a harsh tone, holding the front page of the paper up to Rapp.

Rapp was speechless, and then his face reddened. He said in a rush, “How could you think I'd do something like that, Chief? After all the years we've worked together? Who told you I had?”

Ekman looked at him for a long moment. “Sit down, Alrik. Let's go over this carefully,” he said in a quiet voice. Rapp sank into a chair, and Rystrom told him about the call.

“Maybe it's somebody in the department who has it in for me. But I can't think of anyone who'd do something this low.”

“Neither can I,” said Ekman. “When I met with Haeggman yesterday, he said Grendel had sent him the letters. But think about it. If that were so, the paper wouldn't have printed the story; there would be no way to confirm the letters weren't from a crank. However, if a police inspector provided the information that would be very different. Haeggman was trying to mislead us to protect what he still thinks is a solid, inside informant. He couldn't get the paper to print the story without it containing a reference to a ‘reliable police source' to give it credibility.”

“So it really was Grendel?” asked Rapp.

“It has to be. And he's the one who called me,” said Rystrom.

“Now the question is why did he do it? Not the act of sending the letters to Haeggman; I've thought all along he'd eventually go public. He wanted the attention and we didn't make his involvement known, so he went to the paper. But why did he phone Garth?” Ekman asked, puzzled.

“He's just stirring the pot, that's what he's doing,” said Rapp, his face getting even redder. “And he's made me the fall guy. That bastard.”

“Yes, you're exactly right, Alrik,” said Ekman. “He wants us to suspect one another and have confrontations like this. He enjoys the idea of us squabbling among ourselves. It weakens us, and strengthens him. He likes to see himself as the ultimate trickster and in control of the situation, and us. Karlsson warned he would do something like this, and be very good at it.

“But now we know something we didn't. Haeggman thinks he's been getting information from inside the investigation. We may be able to use this at some time to tilt the playing field in our favor by feeding him false information, using your name, Alrik,” Ekman said with a smile. But then he became serious.

“I owe you an apology for even considering you could be the leak. I know you better than that, my friend.”

“That apology goes for me too,” said Rystrom.

“I understand. You didn't really have a choice. You had to ask me.”

Ekman stood up. “Now that's settled; I think we're keeping the others waiting.”

49

Stillen

B
ergfalk, Holm, and Rosengren were discussing the lurid newspaper story when the other three entered.

“So now Grendel is public knowledge,” Ekman said. “No matter what today's story said, it didn't originate from a police informant. It's a plant by Grendel himself.

“Other papers and TV will pick up the story and speculation will be running wild. I expect everyone here could get a direct inquiry as the media tries to find the ‘police source.' The uniform answer will be to tell them to talk to Lena Sahlin, the communications officer. I hope that's clearly understood.” Everyone nodded agreement.

“Enar, what's happening with the surveillance?” Ekman asked.

“I checked with Gerdi just before the meeting and Lindfors has left for work, but Stillen, who came back last night, hadn't come out yet. When he does, Gerdi will follow him.”

“You and Gerdi have done good work identifying Stillen, but you look worn out, and I'm sure Gerdi is too. We're getting you some backup.” Turning to Rystrom, he asked, “Your people should be here later this morning?”

“Yes, four of them should be getting in shortly. I'll brief them and get them into position so Enar and Gerdi can take a break.”

R
ystrom told them about the other crew waiting to plant the listening devices in Lindfors's apartment as soon as Gerdi gave them the all clear.

“We may know, perhaps as early as tomorrow,” he said, “what Lindfors's and Stillen's relationship is, and whether they're involved in the Westberg murder, or the others. Here's Stillen's bio, with some additional info on Lindfors.” He handed copies around.

Ekman was surprised. Again he felt he was losing control to Rystrom, but reproached himself immediately. Garth was accustomed to leading investigations and taking initiatives. He was simply doing what Ekman had asked him to do: helping move the case forward.

Carl Stillen's profile was headed by the most recent front and side police identification photos taken when he was twenty-four. He was a very good looking, muscular man with brown hair and eyes, of medium height and weight, born in Lund thirty-six years ago to parents who were divorced when he was six. His father had abandoned his wife and son, and after the divorce, his mother put Carl up for adoption. He was a difficult child, given to uncontrollable temper tantrums, was never adopted, and was raised by a succession of foster parents. He'd left school, and his last set of foster parents, at sixteen, and taken a series of odd jobs as a carpenter's helper, roofer, and later, as a delivery van driver.

At twenty-one, he'd met and married Stina Ernstsson. During their marriage, she'd worked as a waitress. Over the next five years, Stillen had several misdemeanor arrests for drunk and disorderly, for which he received warnings. One night in a bar brawl, he rammed a broken beer bottle into a man's face, taking out an eye. This led to the felony conviction Vinter had reported. Stina was working in that same bar the night of the fight, and witnesses said the victim had made a rough pass at her that precipitated Stillen's assault.

After he'd served a year of a four-year sentence, Stina had divorced him. She was twenty-five when she moved to Malmö where she continued working as a waitress, this time in an upscale restaurant. It may have been at the restaurant that she met the well-to-do Eberhardt Lindfors. They'd married a year later, and three years after that Lindfors was dead. The death had been ruled accidental.

When he got out of prison, Stillen had also moved to Malmö. He'd gotten a job as a clerk in a naval supplies store. Whether he'd been in touch with Lindfors was unknown but likely in view of his moving to wherever Stina was, and their current contact. After Stina's husband died, she'd moved back to Lund to enroll in the accounting program at Lund University. Shortly afterward, Stillen had quit his job and also moved there becoming assistant manager of a hardware store.

Three years later, Lindfors graduated with a bachelor's degree in accounting. She next moved to Weltenborg and had worked for the last two years at an accounting firm, where she needed another three years before she could become an authorized accountant. Stillen had followed her again, as they'd already learned from surveillance.

“It looks like Lindfors and Stillen have never really broken up, even after their divorce,” Holm said.

“And except for his prison time, they may always have been together as lovers, even when she was married to Lindfors and engaged to Westberg,” interjected Rosengren with a knowing smirk.

“So what we're looking at now is an unusual couple,” said Rystrom, summarizing. “One is an ex-con with a history of extreme violence—the other, a smart woman who has used her looks and brains to get a rich husband. He soon conveniently died, leaving her a small fortune. A few years later, she became engaged to an even wealthier man, who inexplicably vanishes and is probably dead, leaving her with a much larger fortune.”

“It's certainly suggestive,” said an expressionless Ekman. Holm looked at him with a half-concealed grin.

“Where are you with those computers?” Ekman asked Rapp and Bergfalk.