Authors: Torquil MacLeod
‘What are you on?’
‘A wave of contempt for you. I knew you were rotten, but even I didn’t think you’d go as far as murder.’
Westermark took a step towards her, and Anita thought he was going to strike her. He didn’t, though for a moment he hovered menacingly over her. Then the old confidence returned. Even the self-satisfied smile.
‘And how have you worked this out, exactly?’
‘It wasn’t me. It was Henrik. It all started with the interview you both conducted with Björn.’
‘That was straightforward enough. The professor talked himself into a cell, if I remember correctly.’
‘I listened to it over and over again and, at first, I couldn’t understand what Nordlund was on about. Then it struck me. The fingerprints.’
‘Fingerprints?’
‘They’d been a problem from the beginning. Why had Björn gone to so much trouble to get rid of prints in the bedroom and key areas where the rapist must have been, yet left others to be found elsewhere in the apartment? And you gave the clue to Henrik yourself. You described Björn as an “amateur”.’
‘He was.’
‘I agree. But the person who cleaned up that apartment definitely wasn’t. He knew exactly what he was doing. Thulin’s findings confirmed that. It was a professional job by someone who knew what the forensics team would be looking for.’
‘Big deal. So the professor was more thorough than I gave him credit for. There’s no link to me.’
‘You’re right. But that thoroughness was enough to get Henrik thinking – and double-checking. He possibly didn’t have you in mind at that stage, but when he checked the CCTV footage and Jansson’s call log, which only you handled, and found the footage for the Moosehead pub in Lilla Torg had mysteriously gone missing, he started to put two and two together. I’ve been doing the same digging, Karl, and I’ve come up with four as well.’
‘You’re talking crap – the CCTV was irrelevant.’
‘Your photo wasn’t. A helpful barman recognized you. He’d been chatting up Greta when she was waiting for her friend to arrive. So he remembered her really well – and the man who bought her several drinks later on. You.’
‘Doesn’t mean I killed her.’
‘Not in itself. It was the call she made to you after Björn left her place.’
‘You can’t have found...’
‘You doctored that too, of course. But your mobile call log was very revealing. I checked on that. You received a call from Greta Jansson at 11.47 on Friday night, September 28th. The call lasted two minutes, nine seconds. Long enough to ask her new “friend”, the one she had taunted Björn with, to come round and comfort her. She’d already had too much to drink after an evening spent with you. Too good an opportunity for you to miss. A drunken girl ringing up and inviting you round at that time of night – you must have assumed she was only after one thing. That’s how your mind works, isn’t it? You turn up and misread the signals. She’d have been upset after her row with Björn. For her, it would have been a traumatic experience. I suspect all she wanted was a shoulder to cry on. But to you that’s an open invitation. After you raped her, you must have realized that this one might come back to haunt you. How many times has it happened before, Karl? Using your position as a cop to keep it all quiet? When this goes public, I expect a lot of women will emerge from the woodwork. Greta was different though, wasn’t she? Brighter, maybe? You had to do something to make sure she didn’t blab. The state she was in, it must have been quite straightforward to get her into your car and down to the harbour. It was there that you killed her. How did that feel, Karl, strangling a helpless girl? I suppose if that storm hadn’t thrown up Greta’s body, you’d have been in the clear. Another week or so, and it would have been useless for forensic investigation. You must have been worried when a body was washed up outside here – and relieved when it turned out to be Graeme Todd’s. Anyway, after killing Greta you go back to the apartment and clean up. It couldn’t have worked out better for you when it later transpires that Björn had rolled up again and left his prints everywhere – or almost everywhere.’
‘You’re forgetting the earring. It was in the professor’s car.’
‘Of course it was. It was you who collected the car from Uppsala. The earring must have come off in that fancy Porsche of yours when you strangled the poor girl. All you had to do was drop it into Björn’s car for forensics to find. It’ll be interesting to see what turns up when Thulin’s team takes your Porsche apart.’
‘And Nordlund?’ Westermark said matter-of-factly, his icy blue stare showing no glimmer of emotion.
‘You realized something was up. He was continuing to dig, even though Björn seemed to be the perpetrator and the official investigation was as good as closed. You must have been worried because Henrik was always thorough. You started to follow him to find out what he was up to. He knew someone was watching him. It was no accident that I ran into you near his apartment that night I had dinner with him. What had he been telling me? Eventually, you were so concerned you had to act. I thought it odd he didn’t want to meet at headquarters. Of course, he’d realized by this time the culprit was a fellow detective because of the evidence being tampered with. But you got to him just before I did. Again, Thulin said it was a “professional” job.’
‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’
‘Until that little slip of the tongue, you’d been so clever. Seemingly finding credible suspects in Fraser and Holm, while all the time manoeuvring Björn into the frame. You hijacked Henrik’s investigation – and you so nearly pulled it off.’
Westermark turned his back on her.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked sharply.
‘Some more ice for my drink,’ he answered coolly, and sauntered into the kitchen.
Anita shifted in her seat nervously. It had taken great self-control to confront Westermark. And she still hadn’t finished. She knew she must be calm and professionally detached, even though every fibre of her being wanted to scream out that this bastard had killed her friend and an innocent young woman. She had to play the game.
Westermark didn’t return with his glass. Instead he was holding a regulation, police-issue Sig Sauer. It was pointing straight at her. Anita stiffened. She’d been naïve to think his pistol would be safely locked away at the polishus. He casually sat down in a white swivel chair and swayed gently back and forth. Eventually, he spoke.
‘You think you’re so fucking clever, Anita.’
Anita was mesmerised by the pistol. This was going to be difficult.
‘Put that down, Karl.’
‘You shouldn’t have come on your own. Trying to be a heroine again. Sorry, it’s hero in this fucking gender-equal world that we fanny about in, isn’t it? Either way, you’ll never be as good a cop as me. You’re not tough enough. Not decisive enough. Too bloody emotional. Sucker for a sob story or a lost cause. Look at the Scottish prick you loved so much. I do things that need to be done.’
‘Like killing Jansson and Nordlund?’
‘Both necessary actions for different reasons.’ Anita couldn’t believe how unruffled and controlled Westermark was. That wasn’t good. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. Not this.
‘But I have to hand it to you, Anita – your story’s spot on. The Jansson bitch was whimpering on about reporting me. And Nordlund got too nosey. Why didn’t he just leave it?’ he said in a sudden burst of anguish. ‘He was retiring in a couple of months. We had our murderer, for fuck’s sake. If only he’d just let it lie.’
‘He was a good policeman to the last.’
‘Screw him! Screw you all!’
He leant forward and with the pistol he slowly began to make little circles in the air in front of Anita’s face.
‘Oh, Anita. We could have been so good together. I know you always wanted me. I would have been the best fuck you ever had. And now it’s too late. Can’t let you live.’ In an instant he lost his temper. ‘You’ve always had it in for me. Why?’ he screamed. ‘Why?’
Anita sat as passively as she could while he ranted. She was feeling sick, but she mustn’t betray her fear. In a moment, the fury passed and he sat back in the chair, grinning.
‘I always hated you for loving that journalist. It should have been me, not him.’ He gave a slight guffaw. ‘It was a pendant that gave Strachan away, remember? I thought planting the earring in your ex’s car was a nice piece of irony. Well, I’m glad Strachan’s dead. And as for Nordlund – why couldn’t you show me the respect you showed him? That’s what I wanted. That’s what I deserved.’
‘Not after our failure to arrest Dag Wollstad.’
He burst into a disconcerting giggle.
‘I
knew
you knew. You were the only one who suspected I’d tipped him off.’
‘How many pieces of silver did you get for that, Karl?’
‘The Porsche, the apartment. Kristina paid me handsomely. I still get the cheques. Dag’s somewhere in Bolivia, apparently.’
‘And was she part of the deal?’
‘Oh yeeesss. One night of passion with the delectable widow. She wouldn’t let me have any more. It was worth it, though.’
‘The force doesn’t need people like you, Karl.’
He swivelled rhythmically in his chair.
‘I’m a bloody good cop. Always will be. And when I’ve talked my way out of your disappearance, I will be again. I think another body in the Sound.’
He stopped moving the chair.
‘Any last words, Anita?’
‘Yes.’ To Westermark’s surprise, she held up her keys and spoke into the fob. ‘Have you got all that?’
‘Shit! You fucking—’
‘Neat device. Video too. Moberg’s watching this in an apartment down the corridor. There are police everywhere. Shooting me isn’t going to save you, Karl. Give yourself up.’
She could see the panic spreading across Westermark’s face as his mind frantically sifted through his diminishing options.
‘We could have proved that you killed Greta Jansson, but we didn’t have enough to get you for Henrik’s murder. Until now.’
Then a calmness overcame him. Almost a look of serenity. There was a banging on the front door as his colleagues started to break it down.
He smiled again. That familiar, superior smirk that had been his trademark all the time they had served together.
‘Well done, Anita. After all these years, you’ve outdone me at last.’
Karl Westermark poked his pistol into his mouth and pulled the trigger.