Closed Circles (Sandhamn Murders Book 2) (12 page)

C
HAPTER
28

Thomas opened the meeting with a short summary of his conversation with Gunilla Bäcklund.

“Over one thousand licenses have been issued in Sweden for Marlin rifles,” Kalle added. He’d checked before the meeting. “As soon as there are any suspects we can check them against the national gun registry.”

“Excellent,” said Persson. “How fast can you get us the list? Maybe we will recognize some names.”

“When this meeting is over,” Kalle said.

“How is it going with the mistresses? And the RSYC?” asked Thomas. “Also we discussed the possibility of a jealous husband.”

Kalle nodded.

“We’ve reviewed the names on Eva Timell’s list. We’ve also checked everyone on the RSYC Board, along with committee members. We discovered at least a third of them hunt. We’ve found licenses for all kinds of rifles—Class 1 rifles and Class 2 rifles, Blaser .30-06, .22 WMR . . . it’s a real mix.”

“Remind me of the difference,” Margit said.

“Blaser is used for moose and deer. People use the Winchester for smaller animals, like foxes and badgers.”

“Where does that leave us?” asked Margit.

“About thirty people in the RSYC leadership have access to guns with small-caliber bullets.”

“Anyone own a Marlin?”

“We’ll check on that as soon as we’re done here.” Kalle nodded.

“And the mistresses?” Thomas said.

“Nothing.”

Margit held up an e-mail printout.

“This is a message sent to Juliander. His secretary contacted us.” Margit passed the piece of paper around the table. “Perhaps an extortion attempt. No identifiable sender, of course.”

“You can take this on, Carina,” Persson said. He looked at his daughter, who sat the farthest from him. “See how far you get. We can always bring in the computer squad from Kronoberg to help.”

The computer squad from Kronoberg belonged to a special unit of the National Bureau who knew how to access someone’s computer or reconstruct a hard drive in the blink of an eye. They were often ridiculously young men with long, stringy hair and pale skin who spent their free time playing computer games. But if they secluded themselves with a trashed or locked computer for a day or two, they could work miracles. But Carina was also pretty skilled at uncovering such information.

“OK,” she said. She tried in vain to catch Thomas’s eye.

Yesterday evening, she’d texted him about plans for the upcoming weekend, but he hadn’t replied.

He’s probably too busy with this case,
Carina thought. The start of an investigation was always the most critical. Every day that passed lessened their chances of catching the culprit. Thomas was so focused on the search, most likely he’d forgotten about his private life.

She sighed to herself.

“What are we doing about Juliander’s drug habit?” asked Persson.

“I have more on that,” Thomas said. He filled them in on what he’d gotten from Diana Söder. “He’s used cocaine regularly for the past year.”

“Do you think a dealer is involved?” asked Kalle. “Someone he owed money to?”

Thomas looked skeptical.

“Cocaine is not that expensive these days. For a wealthy lawyer like him, the cost would be negligible.”

“How likely is it that a dealer would get a rifle and a boat to carry out a murder?” asked Margit.

“Not very.”

“Erik will ask around and see what turns up,” Persson said.

“By the way,” Thomas said, “do we have that clip from the TV station yet? It should be here by now.”

Kalle shook his head.

“I’ve called them twice. I’ll call again after the meeting.”

“Any tips from the general public?” asked Persson. “Anything useful at all?”

Erik shrugged.

“Same old story. People call in with all kinds of crazy stuff. Conspiracy theories. Suicide theories. Quite a few tips about Juliander’s romantic affairs, but we know that already. We’ll follow up on anything reasonable.”

Persson nodded and stood up.

“That’s it, then. Keep up the good work.”

C
HAPTER
29

As usual, the Friday-afternoon traffic on Värmdö highway was heavy as people were en route to their summerhouses. The July lull hadn’t hit this crowded highway. The stop-and-go traffic began at the expressway exit and snaked along to Mölnvik shopping center. Hopefully, past there, things would start moving again.

Martin Nyrén glanced at his watch. It was just past four, but he was in no hurry. He had no schedule to worry about. His Omega 36 would wait for him at the Bullandö Marina until he cast off for his weekend excursion.

He didn’t mind sailing alone. In fact, he preferred the silence. No voices breaking the quiet, nobody jockeying for his attention. His boat was set up for single-handed sailing. Indi was the only person he’d miss, but that was out of the question.

July was devoted to family life, and that was that.

He turned up the car’s air-conditioning, trying to keep cool amid the glaring sun and exhaust fumes. This week felt more like April—sun shining one minute, rain the next. What was wrong with a stable high-pressure system for a change?

He settled back in his seat.

He’d had an unpleasant feeling the past few days—as if he were being followed.

Yesterday, while heading back to the office after lunch, he’d had the sensation that someone in the crowd was watching him. But when he’d looked around, he hadn’t recognized anyone.

The same thing had happened on his way to work that morning. The feeling that someone was trailing him settled in. Then he sensed a movement behind his back. But when he stopped to look, no one was there—at least not anyone he knew.

He’d even paused in front of a display window to see if he could spot someone behind him in the reflection. Nobody was there, and he’d felt like an idiot.

Why would anybody be following him?

Oscar’s murder was making him imagine ghosts in broad daylight.

He turned on the radio and forced the dark thoughts from his mind. It was Friday, and he would soon be on his way, setting course for the outer skerries. He had no reason to worry.

Still, his uneasiness did not lift, not even when traffic started moving again.

C
HAPTER
30

“What’s wrong, Mom? Are you sad? You look like you’re crying.” Fabian stared at Diana with concern and tried to pat her cheek with his soft hand.

He held his teddy bear under one arm.

Diana Söder hadn’t heard her son come into the bedroom. She’d been so busy on the computer that she’d forgotten about his bedtime. Feeling guilty, she looked up from the screen and turned to him.

“Don’t worry, sweetie,” she said. She brushed away her tears as best she could. “I must have something in my eye.”

She forced a smile and pulled him onto her lap. He smelled of soap from his bath, and she took comfort in the warmth from his little body. He was already outgrowing his light-blue pajamas with elephants—the legs ended above his ankles. She’d have to buy him some new ones.

Sometimes she wished he would never grow up.

Her son studied her and then looked at the screen in front of him.

“Did you get a mean e-mail? My teacher says we should tell a grown-up right away if somebody sends us mean e-mails.”

His little-boy voice was so innocent. Diana Söder smiled through her tears. He had no idea how true his comment was.

She turned off the computer to keep him from seeing anything. At eight years old, he was already a good reader.

She did not want him to see the nasty words calling her a murderer or “a damned whore.”

S
ATURDAY, THE FIRST WEEK

C
HAPTER
31

“Did you all see the headlines?” Persson threw the evening paper onto the table.

Silence settled over the room.

“How the hell did the press find out that Diana Söder had been involved with Oscar Juliander?”

Diana Söder’s passport photo was on the front page under the headline “Jealousy the Motive for Murder?” Pages six and seven offered a comprehensive summary of Juliander’s relationships with women.

Beneath the black letters “Juliander’s lover’s hideaway!” was a blurry picture of Diana Söder. She stood in front of some building with her hand held over her face as if trying to shield herself.

“I don’t even need to tell you that this is totally unacceptable.”

But you can’t do a thing about it,
Thomas thought. Anyone can report anything to a newspaper. You can’t even find out who it was without breaking the law.

Thomas pictured again the unhappy woman twisting her ring around and around—the ring she’d received on her birthday.

“If I find out the leak came from this office . . .” Persson didn’t have to finish.

“Don’t bother,” Margit was equally sharp. “There have been hundreds of people coming through this building. Some of them probably knew we were going to interview Diana Söder.”

Persson stared hard at her.

“We’ve had extra personnel here to answer the phones and go through the gun registry,” Margit continued. “Anyone could have overheard something by the coffee machine.”

“We’re going to get shit about this from both the police chief and the press secretary.”

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t do anything about it right now.”

The red color in Persson’s face went down a bit. He reached for a cardamom twist and bit into it fiercely. He was still angry, but dropped the subject.

“Let’s get on with it so we don’t have to stay here all weekend.” Margit took command. “Where are we now? Thomas?”

Thomas made his report short and sweet.

“We met all the women Juliander had affairs with. Most of them speak well of him, even though he dumped them.”

“He must have been charming,” Margit said with a wry smile.

“What about their alibis?” asked Persson.

“Every single one has a rock-solid alibi for the time of the murder. Many of them were actually abroad or at least not in Stockholm that day,” Thomas explained.

“So we can eliminate jealousy as a motive?”

“We have alibis for everyone we spoke to,” Thomas said. He turned to Kalle. “How’s it going with the rifle search?”

“Here’s a list of everyone with a license for a Marlin.”

“Any names we recognize?”

Kalle nodded. “One.”

“A lover?”

“One of the husbands.”

“Then we’ll pay him a visit today and search his house.”

Thomas glanced over at Margit, who looked a little glum. This was part of the job, but it was clearly not how Margit wanted to spend the rest of her Saturday.

“Here’s the address.” Kalle slid it over.

Thomas read
Saltsjö-Duvnäs
. It was a suburb not far from
Saltsjöbaden, where the Julianders lived.

“What are the chances that they’re home on a Saturday afternoon in the middle of summer?” Margit said.

“It’s one thirty now.” Thomas glanced at his watch.

“So, doubtful. Perhaps we should call first?”

“Don’t worry,” Thomas said. “I can head there right after the meeting, and I don’t mind going alone.”

Thomas realized he’d just found a reason not to meet Carina later.

Persson turned his stare toward Erik, who shuffled through a stack of papers. Sugar from his pastry had fallen on the documents, and he tried to brush it off.

“What do you have for us?” Persson asked.

“We’ve gone through Juliander’s bankruptcy caseload. There was one case where Juliander had reported tax evasion to the authorities. The company president was banned from engaging in business.”

“Have you interviewed this guy?”

Erik fumbled with the papers and more sugar fell on the table.

Thomas wondered if Erik was qualified enough to look into such complicated proceedings, but there wasn’t much of an alternative. The Financial Crimes unit was seriously understaffed at this time of the year.

Persson scanned the room.

“Nothing else? OK, we’re done for the weekend. See you on Monday.”

The woman who opened the door to the suburban house in Saltsjö-Duvnäs paled when Thomas held up his police ID. The house sat on a hill. Thomas could see the glittering water below.

“I just need to ask a few questions concerning the murder of Oscar Juliander,” he said.

She looked like she might start weeping any minute.

“I already talked to the police last Wednesday,” she said in a low voice. “My husband is home now . . . do you have to . . .” Her voice died out.

“Actually, he’s the one I need to speak with,” Thomas said.

“Who is it?”

A voice came from inside the house, and a well-built man of about fifty walked up to the door. He wore only swimming trunks. Thomas could see a turquoise swimming pool through the living room’s sliding glass doors.

“May I come in?” Thomas asked. “I have a few questions about your gun license.”

S
UNDAY, THE FIRST WEEK

C
HAPTER
32

Who would benefit from Oscar Juliander’s death?

The question had tumbled around in Thomas’s dreams during the night, and he woke up soaked in sweat. The sleeping loft in his Harö summerhouse felt suffocating, although it was barely eight o’clock in the morning.

He threw off the damp sheet and climbed down the ladder into the open kitchen, living room, and dining area below.

The house had once been an old barn, but Thomas and Pernilla had transformed it into a modern, winterized second home. For years the project swallowed up all their money and free time. They’d painted and hammered their way through most of it themselves. They’d used contractors only for the changes requiring skilled expertise, like plumbing and wiring. Thomas had even laid the tiles in the kitchen—not an easy task.

These days, Thomas spent as much free time as he could on the island, especially after Pernilla took the apartment in the city after the separation. His two-room apartment in Gustavsberg was nothing to boast about, and he could never summon the energy to improve it. He wasn’t there often anyway. For the past year, Carina had demanded his attention, and they usually met at her place. But Thomas had never brought her to the house on Harö, where he and Pernilla had been so happy before they’d lost Emily.

Thomas took a towel from the bathroom and opened the front door. The house sat about ten yards from the water with a narrow path to the dock. Thomas walked to the edge of the dock and dived in. The cold water shocked and refreshed him. Moments like this reminded him why the Finns were always leaping from their saunas into snow banks. The blood circulated faster and the brain cleared. Exactly what he needed.

He climbed back onto the dock, rubbed himself all over with sea salt soap, and then jumped back in.

Nothing like a summer morning dip out in the archipelago.

A bit of seaweed had gotten between his toes, and he rubbed it off against the dock. Then he dried himself with the towel and walked back inside.

After getting dressed, he decided to swing past Sandhamn for some fresh bread at the well-known bakery. Sailors’ sweet rolls were famous all over the archipelago. He might also see Nora and his godson if they were home.

His phone beeped. A text from Margit wondering about yesterday’s interview.

The man in Saltsjö-Duvnäs had been surprised but had not hesitated to explain about his weapons: two rifles, one of which was a Marlin. The Marlin was broken, however, and he’d sent it in for repairs. He showed Thomas the receipt and then brought Thomas to his locked gun cabinet in the basement where the guns usually were kept. He seemed like a responsible person.

The weekend Juliander was shot, the man and his wife were in the south of Sweden visiting his sister and brother-in-law. He gave Thomas their number so he could check the alibi.

Only when the man began to question why Thomas was checking up on him did things get awkward.

“You should talk to your wife about that,” he said. “She and Juliander were well acquainted a few years back.”

Before the man could ask anything else, Thomas left. He did not want to participate in the discussion that was bound to follow.

By then, it was so late he had a good excuse to not see Carina that night.

Carina.

He’d have to do something about this whole situation, but not right now.

He texted a reply to Margit and then texted Carina. In a lame attempt to make her happy, he suggested they catch a movie Sunday evening. Then he pushed all thoughts of her to the back of his mind.

As he sat in the sunshine by the window with a cup of coffee in hand, his thoughts returned to the question that had troubled his dreams.

Who would benefit from Oscar Juliander’s death?

Perhaps the answer lay in Juliander’s profession. Perhaps he’d stumbled across something shady in a bankruptcy case. Thomas decided to speak with Nora when he got to Sandhamn. After all, she was a lawyer with one of the major banks. She knew about these things.

“Ask his secretary,” Nora said. She took a big bite of the roll Thomas had brought from the Sandhamn bakery.

They sat on the dock enjoying the fine day. A line of light-gray clouds hung over the treetops of Eknö Sound, closer to the mainland, indicating bad weather on its way. But for now, the sun was shining.

The boys had eaten their breakfast rolls quickly and were busy jumping off the dock, their favorite activity on a day like this. Henrik was on his way into the city. He’d been on call, and there was an emergency at the hospital.

Thomas pictured the pale, unhappy face of Eva Timell. She’d been a great help to the investigation. He crumpled up the sticky paper from his roll and set it on the tray.

“Wouldn’t you like a job as a police investigator?” he asked. “You always have good ideas. And you’d get away from that boss you’re always complaining about.”

Nora gave him a resentful look.

“I don’t
always
complain! But he really is an idiot. Why they let him get away with the stunts he pulls is beyond me.”

Simon ran toward them, dripping water everywhere. In one hand, he carried a full bucket. His intentions were clear.

Just before he reached Thomas, Simon took the bucket in both hands. But before he could lift it, Thomas picked him up and turned him upside down.

“You weren’t really planning to dump a bucket of water over a cop, were you?” he said. He used a stern voice and frowned.

Simon wasn’t the least bit afraid.

“Put me down!” he yelled. Then he begged Nora for help.

“Oh, no!” Nora said. “Get out of this one on your own! You tried to soak your godfather. You have only yourself to blame!”

Thomas lugged Simon to the edge of the dock, swung him back and forth, and threw him into the water.

Adam laughed so hard he almost fell in himself. Thomas walked toward him with open arms. Adam, still laughing, leaped into the water before Thomas could grab hold of him.

“You can’t get us! You can’t get us!” the boys called out.

Thomas pretended to reach for them again before walking back to Nora.

Nora looked at him and shook her head.

“How did you become so good with children, Thomas Andreasson?” she asked. “How did that happen?”

Thomas shrugged, an embarrassed smile on his face. “Please don’t tell anybody.”

He reached for his coffee cup and took the last sip.

“Do you have time to look over Signe’s house with me before you go back?” asked Nora.

The afternoon sun lit up Nora’s white kitchen as she loaded the dishwasher. Thomas was heading back to Harö and then taking the ferry to the city.

“Sure,” Thomas said. “I’m not in a rush.”

“Boys,” Nora said. “You’ll be on your own for a few minutes. I just want to show Thomas something.”

They walked to the Brand house together, and Nora unlocked the front door to let them in. The house smelled stuffy. Abandoned.

Nora led them to the veranda. In an attempt to recreate the former atmosphere, she’d set out a few Mårbacka geraniums, but they’d wilted in the heat, making the space look even more forlorn.

“The real-estate agent called again and wants to bring that family from Switzerland here. They are positive they want to buy the house, he says.”

Nora sank into one of the wicker chairs and looked out to sea. The clouds had come closer, and they would soon swallow up the sun. She stroked the knitted throw lying over the arm. It still held some dark strands of dog hair from Signe’s Labrador.

“I don’t know what to do. Henrik is completely obsessed with the idea of selling. The only thing he cares about is how much money we’re going to get. I hardly even recognize him.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“He wants us to buy some huge place in Saltsjöbaden. Something that fits his parents’ ideals.”

She sighed and leaned back in the chair.

Thomas didn’t know what to say. He could understand why Henrik would be eager to unload Signe’s house for a better home for his family. The Brand house was certainly a fine old merchant house, but it needed a great deal of work.

At the same time, he understood Nora’s dilemma. He’d also known Signe and understood why she’d made Nora her heir.

“Wouldn’t you be happier with something larger in Saltsjöbaden rather than two houses out here?” He chose his words carefully.

Nora’s eyes flared with anger.

“Whose side are you on?” she asked.

Thomas tried again.

“Nora, look at the whole situation. Who is going to take care of this huge place? You already have a nice summerhouse here in Sandhamn. You work full-time, and Henrik’s a doctor. Wouldn’t it be better to invest in a permanent home instead?”

Nora bit her lip but slowly nodded. She got up from the chair and stood by the window. Now the whole sky had clouded over, and small white caps were scudding along the gray waves.

“If it was yours, what would you do?” she asked.

“I can’t tell you that,” Thomas replied. “It’s your decision.” He hesitated for a minute. “But I know this. Don’t let anyone force you into something you’ll regret one day.”

Nora nodded again.

Then he said, “Why don’t you rent it out for a while? You don’t have to make a decision right this minute. Take your time.”

Rent it out? Why hadn’t she thought of that?

Every time Henrik had badgered her to sell, she’d gotten a knot in her stomach. She wasn’t ready, that much was clear. Now she felt much better.

“Let’s go,” she said. “You should head back before the weather gets worse. The wind is really picking up.”