Closed Circles (Sandhamn Murders Book 2) (24 page)

C
HAPTER
68

Nora opened the archive’s huge bronze doors and walked into the reception area.

Though the Courthouse Annex took up almost the entire block, only an unassuming awning marked the entrance.

Inside, visitors found an airy hallway dominated by a large spiral staircase.

Nora explained her errand to the young guard sitting behind a glass window. He wore a neatly pressed uniform jacket, though his hair hung halfway to his shoulders. A small peach-fuzz mustache made him look young, hardly capable of defending the government office against a violent intruder.

Through the bulletproof glass, she could see a game of solitaire on his computer screen. A half-eaten salami sandwich and a cup of coffee sat next to his keyboard.

“You need to go to Department Six,” the guard said. “One floor up, the fifth floor.”

“Where am I now?” asked Nora.

“The ground floor
is
the fourth floor,” the guard explained. “This building has underground levels, which makes this the fourth floor. You can use the elevator or take the stairs.” He gestured at the spiral staircase. “I’ll let them know you’re coming,” he continued. “Then you won’t have to wait so long. The door is kept locked.”

He smiled, and his tiny mustache wiggled. He looked ridiculous, but he meant well.

She thanked him and took the stairs. At the top she found a glass door with a sign for Department Six. A woman in her sixties opened the door.

“Hello, I’m Eva-Britt Svensson.” She held out her hand. “I’m the court secretary here.”

She wore a red pleated skirt and a white blouse. Her gray hair was so short it curled behind her ears, and her large, round glasses made her look like an owl. She definitely looked like a court secretary. Nora could have sworn that there’d been an exact replica at the Visby court.

She introduced herself and explained she wanted a number of files concerning bankruptcy cases. She took the list from her backpack and handed it over.

The woman wrinkled her forehead and then looked sternly at Nora.

“You really need all these? In one day? I hardly believe you can get through them.”

Nora nodded and smiled confidently.

“You must know that we can’t retrieve all of these at once,” Eva-Britt Svensson continued. “Many of these concluded some time ago. I’ll have to go get them from the archives. It can take a while.” She sighed heavily.

Nora took out her bank ID card.

“I’m afraid we have to look at some of these cases,” she said apologetically. “That’s why I’m here. I’m sorry to cause extra work for you, but it
is
extremely important.”

She did her best to sound authoritative, hoping no one would call the bank to check her story.

By law, every Swedish citizen had the right to access any public document at any government archive, but a good reason didn’t hurt. She knew what government employees thought of the general public whenever they tried to exercise their legal rights. Especially when the citizens were journalists who regularly demanded access to infamous cases.

Eva-Britt Svensson glanced at Nora’s ID.

“All right,” she said. “We’ll do our best to help.”

Nora gave her a big smile.

“Is there a place where I can sit down to research?” she asked. There was only one table intended for visitors beside the reception desk.

“It’s not really allowed, but since there’s so much material involved, you can use this room,” Eva-Britt Svensson said. She pointed to an empty room close by. “We’re getting a new notary in a month, so nobody’s using it right now.”

Nora set her backpack on the floor there and hung her jacket on the back of the chair.

“This reminds me of my own time as a law clerk in Visby,” she said, attempting to get on Eva-Britt’s good side.

It worked.

“Then you know the routine. What shall I start with?” Eva-Britt said. Before Nora even had the chance to reply, she’d decided. “I’ll get the two most recent case files first. They’re up here. It will take more time to get the others. You do remember that you’re only allowed two files at a time?”

“Yes. And how long to get copies?” Nora asked, careful not to push the woman’s patience.

“It depends on how many pages are in the file,” she answered. “We don’t have the resources to do it for you. You’ll have to use the copier yourself.”

She headed off to get the files.

Nora sat down in the empty room and took out a pen and a sheet of paper. The room’s one window faced the Klaraberg Viaduct. Its lush greenery framed the water, reminding her of the archipelago.

What did she expect to find here?

This might be nothing more than a waste of time. But she’d give it a try. She’d do her best.

F
RIDAY, THE FOURTH WEEK

C
HAPTER
69

Nora took the 433 bus to Stavsnäs. She’d spent all Thursday afternoon and Friday morning at the archive and hadn’t left Department Six until she’d looked at every single one of the files on Thomas’s list.

Reading them was monotonous, to say the least. Bankruptcy reports and half-yearly reports were formulaic and tedious.

That first day, she’d taken a break and gone to the corner grocery store to buy something to eat. A plastic-wrapped sandwich and a bottle of raspberry mineral water became her Thursday lunch.

The documents’ dry descriptions made her eyes water, and she couldn’t stop yawning. Still, she kept on. Something, something—she felt on the edge of grasping something important, but she didn’t know what. It was like a butterfly dancing out of reach. So she kept on plowing through the files, report after report.

The stack of files she’d read grew as the hours passed. Nothing seemed to deviate. Nothing caught her eye. Yet she was certain there was something. She just hadn’t figured it out yet.

She stayed at her parents’ empty house that night to avoid Henrik. But before that, she decided to see a movie. She went to a Swedish comedy and ate a big bag of popcorn, but afterward she felt a little queasy. The taste of the greasy popcorn stayed in her mouth for the rest of the evening.

She didn’t sleep well. In her dream, Henrik was at the hospital, surrounded by beautiful nurses, while she tried unsuccessfully to get his attention.

When she woke up, she felt teary, heavy, and not rested. It was hard to get out of bed, but she forced herself up and made a cup of tea. She ate a few crackers she found in the pantry. Her parents had emptied the refrigerator when they’d left for Sandhamn, but it didn’t matter. She wasn’t all that hungry.

Then she made her way back to Department Six. Eva-Britt Svensson helped Nora with all the copying so she could finish up before the weekend. At the end of the day, Nora carried two large bags of copies out of the building.

The bags now sat at her feet on the hot bus. She’d found a double seat all to herself near the back.

The bus turned off the highway, passing the Wermdö Golf & Country Club, and the swaying movements made Nora sleepy. Before she knew it, she’d nodded off again, just as she had before, with her cheek against the window.

C
HAPTER
70

Margit brought two cups of coffee and offered one to Thomas. She sat down next to him and drank half of hers right away. Thomas accepted the plastic cup, though he usually avoided coffee from the machine.

It was Friday afternoon. They’d gone over everything from every angle for hours.

They’d interviewed Martin Nyrén’s extended family. They’d visited his workplace and talked to his colleagues. It got them nowhere. The evening headlines agreed. A two-page spread detailed the police’s lack of success. A number of so-called experts commented on the state of the investigation and offered opinions on the police work.

Margit found a bag of boat-shaped raspberry candy. “Want any?”

Thomas shook his head. He wasn’t feeling well.

“I wonder how long it’ll take to get the numbers from Nyrén’s cell phone,” Margit said. “If they’re not here by Monday, I’m going to get them myself.”

“Kalle said they’re delayed because of all the summer vacations.”

“It’s a damned shame his phone broke. Otherwise, we’d already have what we want.”

“The tech guys said they might be able to fix it.”

“Yes, but in a week? Or even two?”

“Do we have that much time?”

Thomas gave Margit a worried glance. They needed a break in the case, and soon.

“What about Nyrén’s computer? Have they found the password?”

“They said they’d let us know when they do.”

“How hard can it be?”

Margit sank deeper into the office chair, bending a pink paper clip back and forth until it broke simply to distract herself.

“Carina hasn’t found any connection between Juliander and Nyrén,” she continued. “No business together. Nyrén worked at the Legal, Financial and Administrative Services Agency, and that agency is not involved with bankruptcies.”

“Well, they were both lawyers. They’re almost the same age. Maybe they were in law school together?”

“Kalle checked all that. No connection in the past. Nothing that can help us.”

Margit thought a moment. “Do you think Nyrén might have been having an affair with Juliander’s wife?” she threw out. “Maybe after all her husband’s philandering, she needed some comfort?”

“But then Juliander wouldn’t have died first, right?”

“No, perhaps not.” Margit sank deeper down. “She might still be the one who sent those messages to Diana Söder. Carina says they came from Internet cafés all over town.”

“That doesn’t help. The messages were sent from temporary addresses.”

“What don’t we see?” Margit asked. “What are we missing?”

Her phone beeped, and she looked at the new message.

“Well, they’re finished with von Hahne’s rifles,” she said. “The bullet that killed Juliander didn’t come from any of his guns.”

“He didn’t own a Marlin, so that’s no surprise.”

Thomas looked out the window. Clouds gathered, kicking off a rainy weekend.

“You don’t need a license to get a gun,” he said. “What about Laser Man? He went to Liège, bought a rifle on the street, and drove home without it being discovered. Same thing in Baltic countries. What are the chances someone bringing home a rifle on the ferry would be caught? Probably not even half of one percent.”

Margit had to agree.

Customs only intercepted a few weapons a year. Their main efforts went into narcotics and alcohol smuggling. Guns weren’t a high priority.

“No killer with two functioning brain cells would use a licensed weapon,” Thomas continued. “It’s too easy to trace. Ingmar von Hahne wouldn’t be stupid enough to use his own hunting rifle. And he does know how to shoot.”

“You’re really focused on him.”

“There’s something he’s not telling us. I’m sure of that.”

Thomas couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew Ingmar von Hahne had a secret.

“If not him, then who?”

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have enough to bring a case against him.”

“I know.”

Thomas’s shoulders drooped slightly. His head pounded and his body ached.

“You don’t look so good,” Margit said.

“You’re right. I don’t feel well.”

He shook himself, but that didn’t help. He could feel his nose clogging up by the minute.

“I think you’ve caught Persson’s cold,” Margit said. “Go home and go to bed. You won’t be any use if it gets worse. Go on.”

Thomas looked at the clock. It was almost five thirty. He reluctantly agreed with Margit. He felt terrible.

S
ATURDAY, THE FOURTH WEEK

C
HAPTER
71

“Hole in one!” Simon yelled. He threw his golf club onto the sand and danced in delight. His eyes shined, and he made the
V
for victory with his small fingers. Nora couldn’t help smiling.

“Did you see, Mom? Did you see?” he called out.

Adam, who hadn’t got the ball in after six strokes, was not pleased. He adopted a look of superiority and pretended not to care.

Nora and the boys had gone to play minigolf at the harbor between Sailors Restaurant and the swimming pool shaded by hotels. The twelve-hole course was popular with families on the island.

However, it was risky to bring Adam. He hated to lose, and when he did, he’d ruin the game for everyone else. He’d sulk the rest of the day when he got into that mood.

All morning, the boys had begged to go. Adam had assured Nora that he’d behave, and finally Nora had agreed to take them.

She needed something to do, anyway, since Henrik had changed his mind about coming out to the island as he’d promised. He’d left an abrupt message saying he was going sailing with Johan Wrede on the Swedish west coast. They’d have to postpone their talk.

His brusque tone on the recording made it clear he was still angry. Nora tried to call back, but he’d turned off his phone.

She felt torn. On one hand escaping the confrontation relieved her. On the other hand Henrik leaving her and the boys on their own made her angry.

How nice it must be,
she thought, her phone in hand,
to assume I’ll take care of the children whenever he decides to take off. One telephone call and he’s free to go, knowing his wife will take care of everything.

She’d love to see his reaction if she left a message telling him she’d be gone for the weekend. Especially when they had so much to sort out between them.

Why was she the one who always had to stay pleasant so that Simon and Adam didn’t worry? Why did she have to explain their father’s absence?

Sometimes Nora wished she could have time away from the family. Snap her fingers and go, as if by magic.

But she was not that kind of person. She knew that. If she let the children see how upset she really was, her sons would pay a higher price than she would. She’d destroy their sense of security, and that would only make things worse. So she swallowed her feelings and pretended things were fine.

Deep down she wished Henrik had to explain his absence to the children instead of simply disappearing.

Adam mouthed the word “damn,” interrupting Nora’s thoughts. She gave him a stern look to remind him to behave. He’d promised.

Adam pouted, but after a while his lean body relaxed and his brow furrowed as he prepared to putt.

Luckily it took him only two strokes to hole the ball. The crisis was averted for now. Nora could take a breath.

While she waited for the boys to get to the next hole, a difficult one with blocks and a hill, her thoughts circled back to the bankruptcy documents.

Yesterday evening, after the boys’ bedtime, she’d sat on the veranda with a cup of tea and the bags of documents. She’d gone through the files once more but still hadn’t found anything unusual.

Now it was her turn to play. It was only a minigolf course, but it was still not easy to make the shot. She concentrated, trying to aim the ball as straight as possible toward the small hole.

The ball sailed off the course entirely on her first attempt, which lost her a point. Adam watched with pleasure while Simon tried to encourage her. There was no doubt which of her boys had a fierce competitive streak. She soon used up her strokes before getting the ball in the hole. She recorded her score on the tally card and thought,
You can’t be best at everything.

Adam made the hole with only four strokes. It was just as well. It put him in a good mood.

As she sat down on the bench and waited for her turn, her thoughts returned to the bankruptcy files.

She’d read them in chronological order. Was there any other way to arrange them? Some way to create a different pattern?

This evening with the boys in bed, she’d take one last look. If she didn’t find anything, at least she could say she’d done her best for Thomas.