Authors: Torquil MacLeod
‘Of course I do. I was brought up in Simrishamn, don’t forget. Sailing’s in the blood.’
It wasn’t exactly true. She’d been an awful sailor. She had gone out a few times only because she’d had a boyfriend who was a member of the sailing club and, as he wanted to spend most of his spare time on the water, it was the only way to see him regularly. She’d nearly always been sick. Needless to say, the boyfriend had lost patience and found someone with a sterner stomach.
‘Next summer I’ll take you out on the Sound.’ The thought cheered him up. Anita took a slurp of wine. The things one does for one’s friends, she thought.
It wasn’t until after Nordlund had cleared away the plates that the conversation touched upon professional matters. It turned out that he was a good cook. Cauliflower soup with watercress and cream was followed by a brisket of beef with root vegetables and Scanian mustard. Local, plain fare, but good and heart-warming. Anita was amazed that he had managed to whip up such a meal at short notice. But Nordlund had always been incredibly well-organized. She wished she was a better cook, but she could rarely work up any enthusiasm for it.
They returned to the uncomfortable seats in the living room. Rain beat on the window panes. Though it was dark over the park, there were lights from the apartments down the streets. Hardly a blind was drawn. She smiled to herself as she thought about Penrith after dark – curtains drawn everywhere by this time of night. Nordlund came in with a couple of cups of coffee.
‘So how did you get on in England?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Anita told him about working with Ash and how they had followed various trails, culminating in the photographs of Carol Pew. But what Weatherley had said still niggled. He was sure that they were on the wrong track, and he should know, as he was the officer most involved in the original Commission Quay robbery case and its successful aftermath. He was sure that Carol couldn’t have gained from the robbery. So why was Todd trying to trace her when her inheritance just wasn’t worth the trip?
‘There’s something we’re not seeing,’ she concluded. ‘Maybe it’s something that Carol isn’t even aware of. Anyway, I’m taking Hakim across to Ystad tomorrow to ask around.’
‘Dragging the poor young fellow out on a Saturday.’
‘It’s his fault. He found a photo of Carol Pew at a jazz event that appeared in
Ystads Allehanda
last year. We should find her now.’ She took a satisfying gulp of coffee. ‘What about you?’
Nordlund patted his bald pate thoughtfully before answering.
‘It’s not looking good for Björn, I’m afraid.’
‘I thought as much.’
‘Did you know that he’d been in Greta’s apartment the night she disappeared?’
Anita couldn’t hide her shock. ‘No, he never mentioned it.’
‘According to him, he tracked down where Greta lived, and confronted her when she came back from her night out. He says she was drunk. She said some painful things to him, so he left. He claims she was alive when he went. He slept the night in his car down in Limhamn, so no alibi. Then he went back to see her so he could talk her round. But she wasn’t there. That’s when he met the neighbour and pretended to be her father so he could wait around for her.’
‘And she was still missing the following weekend when Björn came to see me.’
‘Westermark reckons that was just deflecting attention from what he’d already done. He’s got a point. Nothing looks more innocent than asking a cop to find someone whom you’ve actually already killed.’
‘Why didn’t he tell me the truth right away?’
‘If Westermark’s right, he couldn’t afford to. Björn didn’t help himself either. He admitted that Greta had run away from him because he was being too possessive. What makes it worse is that he also admitted he had a temper. That doesn’t sound good when it’s relayed in a courtroom in a case that involves rape and strangulation. I don’t like to ask, Anita, but was he ever violent with you? You may end up being asked this by the prosecutor anyway if they try to establish a history of violence.’
Anita was still stunned by all she was hearing. Slowly, she shook her head. ‘No. No, never. Björn did have a temper. He didn’t like being proved wrong. That used to set him off. But physical abuse? Never.’
‘That’s something. Of course, the most damning evidence is the missing earring. Greta was wearing it the day she disappeared. It couldn’t have got in his car without her being in there that Friday night, which, of course, he denies.’
Anita felt wretched. She no longer loved Björn, yet he would always be part of her life because of Lasse. That was an unbreakable bond. The fact that he had lied to her from the moment he had got her involved really hurt. It was betrayal all over again. What was even harder to digest was the reality that her ex-husband was a killer. It was just too ironic – could the only two men she had ever fallen in love with both be murderers?
‘So, it’s done and dusted?’
‘Officially, yes. Blom and Moberg are happy that they’ve got a watertight case.’
Anita noticed the hesitation in his voice. ‘Is there a “but”?’
‘There are one or two things I’m not entirely happy with. Björn did mention that Greta said that she’d met another man. Westermark is convinced it was just a ruse. However, if it’s true, then it might bring Fraser and Holm back into the picture. One of them – or someone else – might have visited the apartment after Björn left.’
‘The person she’d been drinking with?’
‘Possibly. We know that Fraser was in the Lilla Torg area earlier in the evening. Then he went to The Pickwick. He could have gone round to her apartment later. So could Holm. He’s got no alibi for that night, either.’
‘At least you’ve got an open mind.’ Anita was thankful for that. She wasn’t thinking of herself. It was Lasse who was her greatest concern.
‘There are things I want to double-check. I need to have another word with Eva Thulin.’ He stopped and sat in silence. Anita could sense that there was something that was bothering him.
‘Is anything up?’
Nordlund seemed hesitant. ‘I just need to listen to the interview tape again. It’s probably nothing.’
Anita didn’t get any more out of him. After helping him to do the dishes – he had never seen the need for a dish washer – she prepared to leave.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening, Henrik. Beautiful meal.’ Nordlund’s face creased into a pleased grin. ‘If you need any help, just ask.’
‘Anita, I think you’ve got enough on your plate.’
As they reached the door: ‘I heard from Westermark that Ewan Strachan had committed suicide.’
‘He told me.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Anita was taken by surprise. Had Nordlund known all along about her feelings for Ewan? She left without another word.
Anita made her way back into Möllevångstorget. The rain had relented and the scudding clouds were visible above the sodium lights of the city. The cafés and bars were busy with Friday night trade. She hurried on, as it wasn’t the safest place to be after dark. Suddenly, a familiar voice halted her.
‘On a night out?’
It gave her an uncomfortable start when she realized that it was Westermark.
‘This isn’t a part of town I’d expect to see you in,’ she responded. ‘Bit beneath you.’ What was Westermark up to?
‘Out celebrating.’
‘And what’s there to celebrate?’
‘Nailing your ex-husband for one. Pity Strachan’s dead or they could have become prison buddies.’
Anita turned on her heel and prepared to negotiate the main road that bordered the square. An approaching bus stalled a quick exit.
‘And where have you been?’
Westermark was by her side as she waited.
‘With Henrik.’
‘Discussing work?’
‘You’ll have to ask him.’
The bus passed and she stepped out into the road.
‘It’s pay-back time, Anita,’ Westermark called after her. His laughter was lost in the noise of another bus coming in the opposite direction.
Anita let herself into the apartment. The light was on, so Lasse must be back. That was good, as they needed to sit down to a serious chat about his father. Despite her tiredness, she felt she had to tackle the subject now. She dumped her bag on the hall table and strolled into the kitchen. There, sitting at the table, a bottle of water in hand, was Jazmin Mirza.
‘Oh, hello,’ Anita said in surprise.
Jazmin stood up. She seemed embarrassed. ‘Hello, fru Sundström.’
Anita couldn’t fathom what on earth she was doing here. ‘Is Hakim with you?’
‘No.’
That moment Lasse appeared at the door.
‘Hi, Mamma.’
‘I see we have a visitor.’ Anita raised her eyebrows as a sign that she wanted an explanation.
‘Jazmin needs to stay the night.’
Jazmin shuffled nervously on the other side of the table.
‘Why?’
‘Because her parents have thrown her out.’
‘So why has she come here?’ Anita was talking to Lasse as though Jazmin wasn’t in the room.
‘Because I’m the reason she’s been chucked out.’
‘What?’
‘I think you need a drink, Mamma.’
Anita’s tiredness kicked in with a burst of anger. ‘No I bloody don’t! Just tell me what the hell’s going on.’
‘I should go. I’ll find somewhere else,’ said Jazmin.
‘No,’ said Lasse firmly. ‘You’re staying.’
‘Lasse. I’m waiting for an explanation.’
‘We’re going out together. An item.’
Anita looked askance. She couldn’t think of two more unlikely people joining up. And how had they met? Hakim hadn’t said anything.
‘When Hakim was staying here Jazmin came round with some food for him. He wasn’t in. We talked. That was it.’
‘Why didn’t Hakim say anything?’
‘He doesn’t know,’ put in Jazmin. ‘None of his business.’
‘So, how come Uday and Amira have asked you to leave?’
Jazmin shrugged. ‘We had yet another argument. A shouting match, I suppose. It was about me coming in late. They said I was to stay at home until I learned to behave. I let slip that I’d been out with my boyfriend. That was bad enough, but when I said he was Swedish – white Swedish – my father went mad. Said he would never let me see Lasse again. When I told him I didn’t care what he thought and that I’d see Lasse whenever I wanted, he told me to leave.’
Anita was astonished. Uday had seemed far more liberal than that. He was once a respected art dealer in Baghdad, used to western ways, before escaping Saddam Hussein’s regime.
‘Does Uday know that it’s Lasse that you’re talking about?’
‘No.’
‘Mamma, you’ve got to let her stay.’
Anita sighed. ‘Just for tonight.’ Turning to Jazmin, ‘You can have Lasse’s bed.’ Lasse gave Jazmin a big grin. ‘And you can sleep on the day bed in the living room.’ She gave him a knowing look. ‘I don’t want to upset Jazmin’s parents any further.’
‘OK,’ he agreed reluctantly.
‘Now, I’d better ring Hakim and tell him and your parents that you’re safe.’
‘Jazmin’s here.’
‘Allah be praised!’ Anita could hear the relief in Hakim’s voice. ‘I didn’t know what had happened until I got home. Dad and I have been searching for her all over.’
‘According to your sister, Uday chucked her out.’
Hakim sighed. ‘Sort of. They had one of their arguments. He said she taunted him with the fact she had a white boyfriend. It’s not the colour; it’s the non-Muslim thing. He just lost his temper. They’re as bad as each other. Mother soon impressed on him that he’d been hasty, and now he’s worried sick.’ He paused. ‘So why has Jazmin come to you?’
‘The white boyfriend. It’s Lasse.’
The whistle from the other end of the phone spoke volumes. ‘When did this happen?’
‘When she came round here to deliver some food for you. Look, tell your parents she’s safe with me. It’s up to you whether you mention Lasse. We’ll try and sort it out in the morning when I pick you up. Now, I just want this day to end.’
She switched off her mobile. She didn’t want to speak to anyone again that night, however urgent it might be. Lasse and Jazmin were still in the kitchen, talking in whispers. She picked up her bag off the hall table and spotted a pile of unopened mail. It would have to wait. Then she noticed that the top letter was handwritten. That was unusual in this age of computer printers, emails and texts. She didn’t recognize the writing. It was addressed to Ms A Sundström and had a Malmö postmark. It had been posted three days ago. The “Ms” alerted her immediately. She closed her bedroom door and switched on the bedside lamp before turning off the main light. She felt nervous about opening the letter. She just knew it was from Ewan. She sat down on the bed and looked at the envelope. Then she took a deep breath and ripped it open. Her throat went dry as she read:
Dear Anita,
I’m sorry to do this to you, but you are the only person in the world that I want to communicate with before I go.
Hopefully, by the time you get this, I’ll have had the courage to duck out of this life. It’s not an attempt to escape the horrors of Swedish coffee – though that’s reason enough – but because I’ve been suffering from cancer. Spotted too late, and it’s bitten deep. Your reaction on seeing me last time was confirmation enough of how much I’d changed. They were threatening to send me back to Britain to die. But I can’t leave here. I can’t leave you. That’s what I wanted to tell you when I rang.
I know you never loved me, but I’ve always hoped you had some feelings for me. You made the effort to see me, even after all the awful things I’ve done. You know that I love you. I just wish I could have told you one more time. This will have to suffice.
Thanks for the visits. And the cigarettes and the snus. I’ve never regretted coming to Malmö, not for a minute. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. If I’ve complicated your life, I apologize.
Time to go. Goodbye, Anita.
Puss och kram, Ewan x
PS Don’t worry about Lasse. He’ll come good.
Anita let the letter slip from her grasp. It fluttered to the floor. Just at this moment, life was shit.
CHAPTER 41
Anita honked the horn of her car as she sat outside Hakim’s parents’ apartment in Sevedsgatan. Hakim appeared at the first-floor balcony to the immediate left of the front door and waved. Two minutes later, he climbed into the passenger seat.