Closed Circles (Sandhamn Murders Book 2) (9 page)

C
HAPTER
21

They divided the list between former and present mistresses. Thomas took one half and Margit the other.

Some of the women were businesswomen and others were people Thomas had never heard of. Two of them were flight attendants.
How typical,
Thomas thought. Others were married to prominent men and would hardly welcome a visit from the police asking about a murdered lover.

Though it was summertime and people were vacationing, it had been surprisingly easy to find out where each woman had been at the time of the murder. Thomas decided to interview Oscar Juliander’s latest
conquest
—as Erik had called her—the woman on his speed dial.

Diana Söder was thirty-nine years old. She hadn’t yet left for vacation, and Thomas hoped he could catch her at her workplace on Strandvägen.

Thomas parked his car in an expensive garage. He walked down Birger Jarlsgatan past the Royal Dramatic Theater, where tourists sat on the stairs watching the crowds go by. Then he turned in the direction of Djurgården.

“Strandvägen Art Gallery” was elegantly scripted on the glass of the front door. Two large landscapes in heavy golden frames hung in the window.

He walked into a long, narrow space with white walls covered in works of art. Ceiling spots lit up the artwork. To the right of the entrance were two comfortable club chairs in forest-green leather with a glass table holding art magazines between them.

What Thomas knew about art could be written on a note card. He realized he had no idea if the art on the walls was worth ten kronor or ten thousand.

An attractive woman sat at an antique desk near the back of the gallery. She was speaking on the phone but quickly ended her conversation when she saw him.

“What can I do for you?” she asked.

She wore a rose summer dress and a pearl necklace. Her hair was gathered behind her neck in a clasp. When she smiled, the trace of a dimple appeared on one cheek.

Thomas introduced himself and showed her his police badge.

“I have a few questions about Oscar Juliander.”

The woman’s face turned a bit pale, but she nodded and offered him a seat in one of the club chairs.

“What would you like to ask me?” she said quietly, sitting down.

Thomas pulled out his notebook and flipped to a new page. Diana Söder watched him nervously.

“Could you describe your relationship to Oscar Juliander?” he began.

“We were friends.”

“Very good friends, from what we understand,” Thomas said.

He could tell by her expression that Diana Söder didn’t want to answer. But Thomas waited, he could afford to be patient.

“We had a relationship,” Diana Söder finally said. She looked at the floor and fiddled nervously with the ring on her right hand. It was made of intertwining gold and silver strands.

Thomas had a thought.

“That’s a beautiful ring,” he said. “Is it new?”

Diana Söder nodded.

“Did
he
give it to you?”

Her hands stopped moving as a tear slid down her cheek.

“For my birthday. This past June. He had it specially made for me.”

“How did you two meet?”

“At work. The gallery has a December party for customers and important people who like to be seen and heard. My boss’s wife organizes it.”

“So you met at this party?”

“Yes, a year and a half ago, the day before the Saint Lucia’s Day celebration. Isabelle always invites many guests, including the entire board of the Royal Swedish Yacht Club and their wives. But Oscar came alone.”

RSYC. Isabelle. This got Thomas’s attention.

“What’s the name of your boss?”

“Ingmar von Hahne.”

Thomas tried to hide his surprise. How could he have missed the fact that Ingmar von Hahne was her boss? Now he remembered that von Hahne had mentioned that he worked in the art world.

“Ingmar owns the gallery. He started it just about twenty-five years ago. He’s a real art lover but not a salesman.” She smiled slightly. “He loves the art too much to sell it.”

What a remarkable coincidence that Juliander’s latest mistress worked for Ingmar von Hahne, Thomas thought. Did it mean something?

“What happened at the party?”

“We started talking. Then he called me a few days later and asked me to lunch.”

She sighed slightly and let her eyes wander to the window.

“Things just went on from there. Oscar could be very stubborn when he knew what he wanted.”

“Did you know he was married?”

Diana Söder avoided looking at Thomas.

“Yes,” she said. “I knew. Oscar said he and his wife had an agreement. As soon as the children finished their studies, he was going to divorce Sylvia.”

A note of defiance crept into her voice, as if she was daring him to contradict what she’d just said.

What a familiar line—the children needed to grow up before the unfaithful husband could leave his wife. Convincing his mistress that his children had to finish their university studies took it one step further.

Thomas tried to understand why an attractive woman like Diana Söder would be in a secret relationship with a married man, especially a womanizer like Oscar Juliander.

“Were you planning a future together?”

“I was hoping to. I loved him very much.”

Her voice was so low that Thomas had to strain to hear the words.

“I need to know where you were last Sunday when Oscar Juliander was killed.”

She clasped her hands in her lap before she answered, almost like she was praying.

“I was with my brother and his family at their summer place on Skarpö. I heard what happened on the news . . . that he was killed.”

“Can your brother confirm that?”

“Of course. It was horrible, finding out about it on TV.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she tried to hide them by running her forefinger beneath each lid. “Why would anybody want to kill Oscar? It’s incomprehensible,” she said.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Thomas said. He leaned toward Diana Söder. “Was Oscar acting any differently lately?”

She thought about it for a moment.

“He seemed harried. Stressed. I thought he just had a great deal to do at work. But all through this past spring, he was more moody.”

“Do you know if he had any financial trouble?”

She shook her head.

“Not anything he discussed with me. In fact, he was always generous whenever we met. We took trips together and always stayed at elegant hotels.” She fell silent for a moment and then asked Thomas, “Do you think this is all about money?”

“I don’t know. And I can’t discuss the investigation.”

Diana Söder sank back into her chair. Her eyes were shiny with tears.

“Do you know if Oscar Juliander used drugs?” Thomas asked. He kept his voice as calm as possible. He didn’t want to frighten Diana.

It was so quiet in the room that they could hear a woman with a baby carriage walking by on the street outside. They could even hear the pinging of the rattle hanging from the carriage.

“Yes, sometimes,” Diana said. “He did cocaine every now and then.”

“What did you think about that? Did you do it with him?” asked Thomas.

Diana Söder shook her head.

“Not on your life. Oscar wanted me to try, but I refused. I have my son to think about.”

“But Oscar still did it?”

“He said it helped him concentrate, made him think more clearly. We argued about it. He thought I was being ridiculous.”

“How long had he been doing drugs?”

“I have no idea. He first used in front of me about a year ago.”

“Where were you then?”

“In my home. I’d gone to the bathroom, and when I came back he showed me some white powder on a pocket mirror. He asked me to try.”

“And you did?”

“No, I already told you.” Diana Söder’s voice was sharp.

“What happened then?”

“He told me not to worry about it. He said lots of people use cocaine. It wasn’t any worse than alcohol.”

“You never thought about leaving him?”

“I loved him. I trusted him when he said he had it under control.”

“How did it affect him?”

“Not badly, really. He got louder and his eyes were shinier. He’d get wound up. Never aggressive, just more intense.” She smiled a sad smile. “That was Oscar, always full of life.”

Then she glanced at her watch, a discreet gold band on her wrist.

“I have a customer coming in ten minutes. Do you think we’ll be finished soon? I’ll have to pull myself together. I can’t look like this when he arrives.”

“Just one last question. Do you know if Oscar had any enemies?”

She shook her head.

“None that I know of. But he could be really condescending at times to people he didn’t like, especially to other lawyers.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’d rant on and on about their incompetence. Called them idiots. Sometimes he’d say that someone never should have been admitted to the Swedish Bar Association. Or that he should be kicked out.”

“Did he say things like that in public?”

“He could be sharp when he showed that side of himself.”

Sharp enough to attract a mortal enemy?
Thomas thought.
Had Oscar Juliander been so rude that someone decided to kill him?

“Do you know of any contact with the Russian mafia?”

Diana Söder looked at him in surprise.

“Why would you ask a question like that?”

“He may have received some threatening letters from them.”

“I’ve never heard about anything like that. But he probably wouldn’t have told me.”

Thomas stood up.

“I think we’re finished now. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Diana Söder tried to smile as she said good-bye, but her expression looked more like a grimace. As Thomas closed the door behind him, she disappeared into a room at the back of the gallery. He thought he heard a muffled sob as he stepped outside.

C
HAPTER
22

This must be the first time we awarded the Round Gotland prize with flags flying at half-mast,
Hans Rosensjöö thought.

The stage had been erected between the harbor office and the large dock. Hans stood next to Ingmar von Hahne, waiting for the ceremony to begin.

A large table with a blue velvet tablecloth bearing the club’s emblem held the prizes. Rows of silver trophies stood beside magnums of champagne and plaques for the second- and third-place winners. An enormous flower arrangement topped off the display.

Hans Rosensjöö, as chairman, would award the prizes. The race coordinator and Ingmar’s sweet daughter Emma would help him. It was always pleasant to have a female participate, especially since men dominated the competition by 90 percent.

But the atmosphere was not festive, given the circumstances. The Yacht Club’s restaurant was usually fully booked, but they’d received a stream of cancellations. This displeased the maître d’. They’d had to rearrange the tables to make the restaurant look less empty.

Hans Rosensjöö wished he could have stayed away, too. But since they’d decided that the race would continue, they had to go through the formalities: the awards ceremony, the exclusive dinner, the whole bit. They owed that much to the other participants who’d completed the race.

Hans glanced at his watch. Ten more minutes until the official gunshot went off, indicating the beginning of the awards ceremony.

Britta Rosensjöö was chatting with Isabelle von Hahne and a few others, and, as usual, Isabelle dominated the conversation. Britta sipped her champagne.
Where does Isabelle get all her energy? How does she keep up with all these committees and volunteer organizations? The woman needs a real job.

But that wouldn’t have been acceptable in her upper-class family, Britta realized. Though she and Hans moved in high circles, Isabelle’s were even higher. In the fifties, her father had been one of the most important industrial giants in Sweden. Her family would never have allowed a beautiful daughter an education or a career. Instead Isabelle had married a nobleman to acquire even higher social status and a title.

Britta almost felt sorry for Isabelle. She’d met her father several times before his death and remembered him as stiff and tradition bound. He’d ruled his family with an iron fist.

Britta glanced at her husband over by the awards table. He looked tired and worn out. These past days had been difficult, and she was concerned. He would be sixty soon. No longer a young man. It was time to put his health before his duties. She’d never told him how glad she was that he was leaving the board. She was counting the days.

To tell the truth, she never liked Oscar that much. He was too full of himself. He’d already started to act like the RSYC chairman that summer, though Hans had not yet stepped down.

Britta found Oscar’s behavior presumptuous, although she didn’t discuss this with her husband.

She had always preferred Sylvia, a pleasant person who came from a better family than Oscar. But Sylvia often stayed behind in their summerhouse on Ingarö. She never seemed comfortable at these kinds of events, where Oscar’s ringing laughter and endless sailing stories dominated every conversation. And Oscar probably didn’t mind Sylvia staying home and letting him take center stage.

“Right, Britta?”

Britta shrugged vaguely at Isabelle’s question. She’d been lost in her own thoughts.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” she said. “I didn’t hear you. I’m so scatterbrained this week. The other day I lost my camera, and this morning I lost my sunglasses.”

Isabelle smiled at Britta.

“I was just saying I hope the awards ceremony doesn’t go on too long. It would be nice to get this evening over with as quickly as possible.”

Britta nodded in agreement. She took another sip of champagne and discovered her drink had grown warm. But the thought that Hans would soon be done with all of this cheered her up. She smiled as she imagined never having to attend another function like this again.

T
HURSDAY, THE FIRST WEEK