Authors: Torquil MacLeod
‘Did you meet up?’ Hakim asked impatiently
‘No. He didn’t turn up. I waited an hour and then headed back home. I put him down as a time-waster.’
‘Did you tell anybody else about Todd’s visit?’
‘No. No one. Except Peter, of course. And he thought it was quite funny that, despite all my efforts to remain anonymous, someone had tracked me down.’ She squinted up at the sun. ‘It still amazes me that he discovered where I lived.’
‘It was the postcard you sent to Vanessa that started him off. Ales Stenar.’
‘Ah.’
‘So how did you end up in Sweden?’ Anita asked. She knew a lot of the story already. Now she wanted the gaps filled in.
‘That’s a long story, dear. An awfully long story.’
‘We’ve got plenty of time.’
Wallen opened the door to the meeting room. She was bored seeing out her Saturday shift. At least Anita’s call about finding Carol Johansson’s address had given her something to do. She had a girls’ night out planned for later. They were going to try out a new club that had just opened and was meant to be good.
She was surprised to see that Nordlund was still in there. He was surrounded by pieces of paper. He never looked in the best of health, but his face was drawn. Retirement would do him good, she thought. Get some colour back into his cheeks. She was envious. If she had the financial means, she would give up the police tomorrow. Modern policing had lost its appeal: too much red tape, too much accountability and too much interference. And life without the likes of Moberg and Westermark would be so much nicer. Nordlund would be a loss. He was a decent man.
‘I can’t believe you’re still in, Henrik.’
‘Just double-checking. Can’t overlook anything when it’s a murder case.’
‘Can I get you anything?’
‘No. I’m fine, Klara. I won’t be long.’
Wallen shut the door and left him to it. Now, what was she going to wear tonight?’
‘This is a new life. One I want to protect.’ Carol took out a packet of cigarettes. She offered them across the table. There were no takers. She lit up and exhaled a plume of smoke.
‘If you found me, then I haven’t done much of a job keeping a low profile.’
‘It wasn’t easy,’ remarked Anita.
‘I don’t know how much you know about my background, but I was married to a guy called Nicky Pew. Handsome sod. Fell for him in a big way. This was in Newcastle, by the way. Not Carlisle. The only problem was that he was a crook. An educated, clever, charming crook. He was fun to live with. Oh, I can’t pretend I don’t miss the high life. Nicky had three weaknesses – money, jazz and women. He got me hooked on the first two and pissed me off with the third. He was a very successful jewel thief, but it all went wrong one night. He ended up killing a security guard in North Shields. I don’t know how it happened. I only ever saw him once after that. He came home, stuffed a case full of money he had stashed in the house, and left in a hurry. Not a bloody word of explanation. The next thing I hear is that the bugger has surfaced in Australia. He left me right in the shit.’
Carol took out another cigarette and lit it from the dying butt of the first one.
‘The grand house in Darras Hall went. The authorities froze our accounts. And I had a copper sniffing around. Weatherley. He was rounding up Nicky’s gang. And he was doing his best to implicate me. Hadn’t any proof, though. Then the randy sod tried it on.’ Kevin Ash would recognize the scenario, thought Anita. ‘I’ll never forgive the bastard for that. He wouldn’t have dared if Nicky had been around. Nicky would have killed him. Ironic that it was Weatherley who killed Nicky.
‘Anyway, I was starting divorce proceedings before Nicky was shot. Saved me some lawyers’ fees.’ Another chuckle. ‘So, I suppose Weatherley did me a favour. Even before that last robbery, I was tiring of Nicky’s philandering. It was no surprise when I heard he’d been shacked up with some Aussie trollop before he died.’
Reflectively, she watched the breeze carry her cigarette smoke across the garden. Her nails were manicured, but there was a yellowish tinge of nicotine on her fingers. She was a serious smoker. Maybe Nicky Pew had driven her to it, reflected Anita.
‘I stuck around in Britain for a bit. But the police harassment was getting too much. They hadn’t recovered the jewels. Or the money Nicky had probably made from them, so they automatically thought I must have access to it.’
‘It didn’t come your way?’
Another guttural laugh, ‘If only, my dear, if only.’ She flicked a growing column of ash onto the grass. ‘I headed to New Zealand for a fresh start. They speak English of a kind. They swap their ‘i’s and ‘e’s so six sounds like sex and sex like six. Can make some conversations confusing, if you know what I mean. It’s a pretty country though, but pretty dull too. And it’s closer to Britain than you think. They’re not so backward that they don’t have the internet. The press got wind of where I was. The story of Nicky’s death had been big in Australia, and that sort of thing floats across the Tasman Sea. By that time I’d met Peter. He was born in Auckland, but his parents had emigrated from Dalarna. So he’s a dual citizen. Met him in a jazz club in Auckland. I love jazz – that was Nicky’s fault; he was passionate about it. Peter loves it too. He plays in a trio.’
‘Ah, the Hons Morten Café,’ said Hakim. ‘The photo of the Göran Brante Trio in
Ystads Allehanda
. Peter Johansson was captioned. Drums.’
‘That’s right. They do a lot of Esbjörn Svensson material. Are you into that sort of stuff?’
‘No. It seems like a lot of funny noises to me,’ admitted Hakim.
‘Maybe it’s a cultural thing with you.’
Anita thought Hakim was going to react to her insensitive comment. A warning glance ensured he kept quiet. Anita wanted to take advantage of Carol’s talkativeness, even though it didn’t seem to be leading them anywhere at the moment.
Carol carried on, completely oblivious to any aspersions she may have cast. ‘Peter’s a kind and thoughtful man. The complete opposite of Nicky. We married. I realized that I couldn’t have that new start I wanted over in New Zealand and, obviously, I wasn’t going to go back to Britain. Peter wasn’t averse to coming back to his mother country, so Sweden was an ideal solution. Swedes keep themselves to themselves. After all, you did spawn Garbo. Peter still had relatives in Dalarna, but I didn’t want to live up there in the middle of nowhere, so this was a good compromise. Even though I haven’t been back to England for years, it’s reassuring to know it’s not far away. And this is quiet and peaceful, yet I’ve got Copenhagen and Malmö on the doorstep.’ She waved a hand in the direction of the nearest houses. ‘They belong to Stockholmers and Germans, so they’re empty at this time of year.’ She pointed to the distant tractor. ‘That’s our nearest full-time neighbour.’ She paused. ‘I must admit I thought I’d never be found. My past is a painful chapter in my life. All I want is to be left alone and live life in the present.’
‘I’m sorry if we’ve raked up bad memories, but you were our only lead.’ Anita felt a palpable wave of disappointment – they had reached a dead end. The one question that needed answering now was who intercepted Graeme Todd before he could meet up with Carol Johansson?
CHAPTER 43
‘What did you make of all that?’
They were beyond Ystad and heading back on the E65 to Malmö.
‘She sounded plausible,’ replied Hakim. ‘She wasn’t exactly trying to hide anything.’
‘Brutally honest.’
They drove on in silence while they wrestled with their thoughts. Hakim was the first to speak.
‘It couldn’t be the husband who got to Todd first?’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. Didn’t want to have Carol’s new life disrupted. Trying to protect her.’
‘It’s rather extreme to torture him, cut his hand off and then drown him. He could just have easily warned him off.’
‘It was only a thought.’
‘No, Hakim, I think there’s something more sinister here. But what the hell it is, I’ve no idea.’
Anita parked the car in front of the apartments at Sevedsgatan. She turned off the engine and looked across at Hakim.
‘Come on, let’s get this over and done with.’
Hakim produced his key and opened the front door. They went up the flight of stairs to the first floor and Hakim unlocked the door of the apartment. He called out his name and something in Arabic as he took off his shoes. Anita followed suit with her own footwear. That was one habit Swedes and Arabs shared. They entered the living room and were taken by surprise. There, sitting opposite Uday and Amira, were Jazmin and Lasse.
Uday immediately got to his feet when he saw Anita. ‘How nice to see you again, Inspector. Please take a seat. Amira, get our guest something to drink and eat.’
‘No, don’t worry about that, Amira.’
‘Are you sure?’ Amira asked with some concern. She didn’t like to think that they weren’t being hospitable.
Realizing her mistake, Anita said she would be pleased to have something. Amira appeared relieved. She scurried off to the kitchen while Anita took a seat.
‘Your son has explained to us that there has been no inappropriate behaviour on his part.’ Anita had doubts about that, but she admired his courage in coming to see Jazmin’s parents. She wondered whose idea it had been. ‘Naturally, we would have preferred that Jazmin step out with a Muslim boy.’ Jazmin gave an audible groan, which her father ignored. ‘However, we all have great respect for you, Inspector, particularly Hakim.’ Hakim looked suitably embarrassed. ‘And we have to accept that we have made our home in a Western country. Sweden has been good to us. And, as Jazmin keeps reminding us, she is Swedish. However, as you’d expect of a good father, I think that we should lay down some rules.’ Before these could be outlined, Amira came bustling back in from the kitchen with a tray of cakes.
When Hakim eventually saw Anita and Lasse out of the apartment block’s front door, he seemed thankful that he hadn’t had to deal with a huge family trauma.
‘It’s only because you’re Lasse’s mother that he isn’t making a big fuss,’ Hakim confided. ‘He wouldn’t have entertained anyone else.’
‘Well, you can have the rest of the weekend off without worrying. And as for the case, we’ll start again on Monday.’
As they reached the car, Hakim called, ‘Lasse, I think you’re mad taking on my sister.’
Lasse couldn’t help grinning. ‘Someone has to do it.’
Anita spent the rest of the weekend trying to sort out her head. She mentally put aside the Todd case, as she had more immediate things occupying her mind. She had taken Lasse off to The Pickwick for a pint and a chat about Björn. Lasse had never been in the pub before and said how much he liked it. Sitting on one of the leather sofas, they had as good a talk together as they had ever done since the time before Rebecka had come on the scene. Naturally, Lasse was upset at the thought that his dad could have killed someone.
‘Do you think he did it?’
‘I wouldn’t have thought it was in his nature, but I’ve heard the evidence against him. At least Henrik Nordlund still has doubts. I’m not sure what they are, though.’
Lasse surprised Anita with his mature and sensible approach to the whole nightmare. He knew it was something he’d have to get through. And he’d told Jazmin all about it, and she’d been really sympathetic.
‘I really like her, Mamma. She’s different from other girls I’ve met.’
She couldn’t disagree.
‘Who had the idea to face up to Uday?’
‘I did. Jazmin thought I was nuts for suggesting it. She said they wouldn’t let me in. But I just knew we had to do something. Didn’t want to let it fester and spoil our relationship, or put you in a difficult position with Hakim, seeing him every day as you do.’
‘I’m proud of you.’
‘Proud enough to buy me another pint?’
Before they left, Alex Fraser had come in and looked uncomfortable to see her there. He didn’t make any effort to acknowledge her and studiously avoided any eye contact. Anita could understand why. After dealing with Westermark, he was bound to be wary of the police. And she knew, though Fraser was now officially in the clear, that Nordlund wasn’t satisfied and that he might well come back into the reckoning.
That night Anita curled up in bed with Ewan’s final letter and wept. In the morning she burnt it.
The rest of Sunday she lazed about the apartment. There was cleaning to do. She couldn’t be bothered. When there was a break in the rain, she went for a run round Pildammsparken. On her return, Lasse announced that he was going out to meet Jazmin. At least the girl had given him the sense of purpose that had been missing for some time. He had even gone out shopping that morning and made the lunch.
Anita was sitting watching something mindless on the TV when her mobile started ringing. She pressed the mute button on the remote control and picked up her phone. She didn’t recognize the number.
‘Anita?’
‘It’s me, Kevin Ash.’
Anita’s conscience was immediately pricked. She knew she should have called him to report back on the meeting with Carol Johansson.
‘I was meaning to ring you.’ Not quite true. ‘But I didn’t want to disturb your weekend.’ That was more convincing.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked. ‘It’s just you weren’t in the best of spirits when you left.’
If he wanted to talk about their night together, then he would have to think again. That had been confined to the category of another of her bedroom mistakes. She had had too many of those since leaving Björn.
‘I’m fine. What I was going to tell you is that we’ve tracked down Carol Pew. Now called Carol Johansson. She seemed a straightforward lady who is rebuilding her life in obscurity in southern Sweden. Her story tallies with what Weatherley told us. The only interesting thing to come out of our conversation was that she claims that she never met up with Graeme Todd. She freely admits that he got in touch with her about the Doris Little inheritance, and even rang her from Malmö. She arranged to pick him up in Ystad, but he never showed up.’
‘Wow! So someone got to him first. Any idea who?’
‘Not really. She’s got a new husband called Peter. He’s from New Zealand, but of Swedish extraction. My partner suggested him as a possible suspect, but only because we’ve nothing else to go on. It’s highly unlikely he’s got anything to do with it. He’s got no reason. After all, Todd was supposedly there to try and get money for Carol out of the British government. That doesn’t exactly give the husband a motive.’