Third Voice (42 page)

‘Please excuse my attire, I’m in between a christening and a funeral, but we have half an hour. Come in!’

Welander proceeded into a large, beautiful room and gestured towards the curved dark-green sofa. Olivia sat down.

‘So you wanted to talk about Sandra?’ Welander said and sat down in an armchair next to the round coffee table. ‘I do hope nothing’s happened?’

‘No, actually it’s not her I came to talk to you about.’

‘No?’

‘No. I received a call from Alex Popovic this morning. He told me that Magnus Thorhed called you the same night that Bengt Sahlmann was murdered. Is that correct?’

‘Yes. But why would Alex call you to tell you about that?’

‘Because I’d asked him about Thorhed before.’

‘And why did you do that?’

Olivia had been expecting that question, that they’d end up there. She knew that she’d have to explain certain things, otherwise she probably wouldn’t get Welander to talk. So she opted for the same approach as she had taken with Alex the first time.

‘Because I’m trying to find out who killed Sandra’s father.’

‘But you’re not a police officer, are you?’

‘No, not officially, although I have police training. But this is a purely personal matter. For Sandra.’

‘I understand. And why are you interested in Magnus Thorhed?’

‘For several reasons. He drives the same make of car that was seen at Bengt’s house the night he was murdered, for example.’

‘You think Thorhed might have something to do with the murder?’

‘I don’t know. I was hoping you might know more.’

‘Because of that phone call.’

‘Yes.’

Welander looked at Olivia. He saw that she was serious about this, he had no reason to doubt her intentions. She wanted to help Sandra.

‘It was a very short conversation,’ he said. ‘All Thorhed said was that Bengt Sahlmann had hanged himself.’

‘How did he know that?’

‘I wondered that too, but he put the phone down before I had the chance to ask him.’

‘Why did he call to tell you that?’

‘He knew that I knew Bengt and that I’m a priest. Perhaps he just wanted to let me know?’

‘Or confess.’

‘He didn’t say that he killed Bengt.’

‘No.’

‘Would you like some tea?’

‘Yes, please.’

Welander got up and left the room. Olivia tapped her feet on the ground, feeling wired. If Thorhed had called and said that Sahlmann had hanged himself, the same night that it happened, a simulated suicide, then he must have been there? The police hadn’t released any information about that.

She was close to calling Mette.

Mette was just walking into police headquarters with Lisa and Bosse. She’d swapped her dressing gown for a black dress and left Mårten a note in the kitchen: ‘National Crime Squad. Emergency.’

He’d just have to accept that.

They went straight to the room where the two murder investigations were underway. There were a few older investigators sitting there. Mette briefly informed them about the film they’d received from France and how they could access it. She asked them to be extremely discreet about the contents. The important part, for the Swedish investigators, were the three voices.

‘They need to be identified. We’re guessing that two of them belong to Bengt Sahlmann and Jean Borell. We have no idea whose the third is. How shall we proceed?’

‘We’ll start by extracting a sound file from the film that will allow us just to hear the voices,’ Bosse said. ‘I’ll fix that.’

He disappeared through the door with Lisa’s laptop.

When it came to identifying Sahlmann’s voice, Mette most certainly did not want to drag in the people closest to him, his daughter and her aunt. They’d sort that out with Customs and Excise. Gabriella Forsman might oblige? She was being held in custody, after all.

‘What about Borell then?’ Lisa wondered. ‘Shall we contact his colleague?’

‘Magnus Thorhed?’

‘Yes.’

Mette did not respond straight away, due to a number of thoughts she’d had while in the car on the way in. About the things Olivia was looking into. Her interest in Magnus Thorhed. Just imagine if the third voice was his? There was a risk of that. Then it wouldn’t be particularly clever to ask him to listen to the sound file. She nodded at the door and walked towards it. Lisa followed her. Mette pulled the door closed and stood outside in the corridor. For some reason she didn’t want the entire investigation team knowing what Olivia was up to. A lay person who had absolutely nothing to do with their work.

It was different with Lisa.

Mette quickly explained why she didn’t want to contact Thorhed. Lisa understood.

‘But can she do it then?’ she said.

‘Who?’

‘Olivia has met this Thorhed, hasn’t she?’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, then, we can start with her? She might be able to hear whether it’s his voice on the recording? If it isn’t, then we can contact him?’

Mette hadn’t thought of that. But she was on sick leave, she’d had a heart attack, she wasn’t on the ball. Olivia could identify Borell’s voice too!

‘Good, Lisa. I’ll call her as soon as we have the sound file.’

Welander poured Olivia a cup of tea from an extremely beautiful, blue teapot. She held the cup between her hands and had a sip. Welander sat down next to her on the sofa and poured himself a cup as well.

‘I was thinking about Sandra out there,’ he said. ‘She rang me yesterday and she sounded a bit more cheerful. Do you think so too?’

‘I don’t know. I think it’s pretty up and down.’

‘Well, yes, I suppose, mood swings are common at that age.’

Mood swings, Olivia thought. She’d tried to commit suicide!

‘But you’re a great support to her,’ Welander said. ‘I can tell.’

‘I hope so.’

Olivia looked down at the floor. She certainly was a great support to Sandra, for now. But that might not be enough. If she was forced to tell her what she needed to tell her. She felt the anxiety rising up inside her.

‘Are you all right?’

Welander bent down a little and caught Olivia’s gaze.

‘You look a bit sad.’

‘I have a problem.’

Olivia had not prepared herself for this situation, this wasn’t why she was here. Her anxiety over Sandra had been churning away inside her. There was no one she could share this with, no one she could talk to.

Or was there?

She looked at Welander, his eyes were gentle and steady. Maybe she could tell him? Get some guidance? He knew Sandra too.

‘Something’s happened that concerns Sandra,’ she said.

‘Something bad?’

‘Something that I’m not sure she can handle finding out about at the moment.’

‘Because she’s so fragile?’

‘Yes.’

‘Does she need to be told, then?’

‘I don’t know. It may be unavoidable and then I would want her to hear it from me.’

‘It sounds serious. What’s happened?’

Olivia wrung her hands. It really was serious. It was horrendous. And it would come out sooner or later, in one way or another, she was sure of that. Perhaps through the media, which would be worst of all.

For everyone.

Suddenly it struck her that Tomas Welander had known Bengt Sahlmann for ages. He was a friend. She hadn’t thought of that. She’d only been thinking about Sandra. What had happened would certainly shock Welander just as much as everyone else. When he found out.

Now or later.

‘You are bound by an oath of secrecy, am I right?’ she finally said.

‘Yes, you can tell me whatever you like.’

‘Sandra’s father was watching online porn.’

Welander looked at Olivia, rather quizzically.

‘Why did you have to tell me that?’

‘Because something happened while he was doing it.’

‘Watching pornography?’

‘He was watching a live session on a private webcam.’

‘I understand. That certainly is objectionable, though hardly criminal? It’s nothing that would involve the police? If that’s why you think you need to tell Sandra?’

‘No.’

‘So?’

Olivia clenched her hands, tightly, looking down at the floor when she finally said it, quietly.

‘A very brutal murder was committed during that session. I don’t know whether it will be made public, but there is a great risk that it will be once the preliminary investigation is complete.’

‘And then Sandra will find out?’

‘Well, it concerns her father.’

‘I understand. That is troubling.’

Welander got up and started pacing in front of the coffee table. Olivia watched him. Had she said too much? But he’d be finding out about everything anyway. It was unavoidable that it would come out.

Welander turned towards her.

‘I understand your dilemma, and I agree with you. The way Sandra is feeling now, it would be devastating if she found out about this.’

‘Yes. So what should I do?’

Welander carried on pacing around in front of the table. Then he stopped.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But if you decide that you need to tell her, then we can do it together. If you think it might offer some support having me there.’

‘I don’t know. But thank you.’

Then her mobile rang.

It was Mette.

‘Excuse me,’ Olivia said.

She got up and went over to the large windows. She knew how loud Mette’s voice could be and she didn’t want Welander to hear. It might be something about Sahlmann.

It was.

Among other things.

Mette quickly explained that they needed help identifying a couple of male voices on a film depicting the murder of Samira Villon. The men had witnessed the murder. But she didn’t want to discuss any more details over the phone. So she played the first voice.

‘Do you recognise it?’ Mette said.

‘Yes, it’s Jean Borell’s voice.’

‘Good! Thanks!’

Welander had sat down on the sofa and looked at Olivia. She was standing with her back to him, but her voice was
clear, even though it was quiet. When she said ‘Jean Borell’ he got up.

‘Here’s the next voice!’

Olivia pressed the phone against her ear to be able to hear properly, the sound quality wasn’t great. She hunched over the windowsill. Welander went towards the door.

‘Hello! Are you still there?’ Mette said.

‘Yes.’

‘Is it Magnus Thorhed?’

‘No. But I recognise the voice.’

‘So who is it, then?’

‘I’ll be in touch.’

Olivia ended the call. She saw that her hand holding the phone was trembling. She stood still for a few seconds to regain composure.

Tomas Welander.

It was his voice.

She felt her cheeks going red. She saw his face in front of her, his gentle eyes, his soft voice, how he’d been sitting there, lying straight to her face. Trying to mislead her. Completely. Playing on her feelings for Sandra and getting her to reveal deeply personal information.

He’s used you, Olivia, as you promised yourself never to be used again.

She turned around.

The veins were pumping in her forehead, her jaw was clenched, her cheeks tight. Welander was coming towards her.

‘Was that a difficult conversation?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘I see that. You’re shaking. Was it about Sandra?’

‘No, it was about you.’

‘Me?’

Olivia took two steps forward and gave Welander a big slap straight across his face. He tripped over the table, and fell onto an alabaster lamp and straight into the wall. The lamp crashed
onto the floor without going out. Welander slid along the wall and ended up on all fours. There was blood running from his nose, down over his mouth, down onto the floor, he was gasping heavily.

Olivia didn’t move.

A number of seconds passed, perhaps a minute. Finally Welander turned up to face her.

‘I understand you,’ he sniffled.

‘What exactly is it you understand?’

‘I should have told you.’

‘Yes. Get up.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Get up.’

Welander was still on all fours.

He knew he’d locked the door.

He knew what he kept hidden behind one of the old books on the shelf.

Mette was still holding her mobile in her hand. She was standing by the desk in her office. Lisa was sitting on a chair and Bosse was leaning up against a wall.

‘Did she recognise the voice?’ he said.

‘Yes.’

‘Was it Magnus Thorhed?’

‘No.’

‘So who was it, then?!’ Lisa said and got up.

‘She didn’t say. She just said, “I’ll be in touch.” Then she ended the call. She sounded…’

Mette fell silent. Bosse and Lisa looked at her.

‘How did she sound?’

‘I don’t know, strange? Tense?’

They looked at each other. Olivia must have understood how important it was that they found out whose voice it was.
How urgent this was. All she needed to do was say the name. Yet nevertheless she ended the call. Why did she do that?

They all thought the same thing.

Maybe she was with the person in question?

‘Where is she?’ Bosse said.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Call her again!’

Mette had already set about calling Olivia. She waited. Voicemail.

‘She’s not answering. I talked to her about an hour ago and she was on her way to someone who might have information about Magnus Thorhed. She didn’t say who.’

‘Might someone else know?’

‘No idea,’ Mette said.

But she picked up her mobile and tried the only person she could think of.

‘Hi, Tom, it’s Mette. Do you know where Olivia is?’

‘No. She was going to talk to someone, maybe she’s still there?’

‘Who was it?’

‘A priest. Someone Bengt Sahlmann knew.’

‘Thanks.’

‘What is it?’

Mette had already ended the call and rung Sandra’s aunt, Charlotte Pram.

Welander had got up, eventually. Now he was standing leaning up against the bookshelf, wiping the blood off his face with his smoking jacket. The alabaster sheen from the floor lit up his pitiable figure. Olivia was still standing in the middle of the room. Her rage had not subsided.