Grendel's Game (30 page)

Overheard

R
ystrom had been receiving reports from his surveillance teams whenever Stillen or Lindfors were on the move. When either of them headed back to her apartment, the listening van would be in place. It was twelve thirty. Stillen had gone to get lunch at a small takeaway around the corner from his store. Meanwhile, Lindfors was having lunch with two women from her office at a Thai restaurant down the block from her building.

At six Lindfors left work. The surveillance team tracked her walking directly to her apartment. The listening crew in the van was ready and poised. The mics had been checked out immediately after they'd been planted. The recording equipment was now up and running.

Both Lindfors's and Stillen's surveillance teams had been given pictures of the apartment buildings' residents, and told to photograph only strangers. At seven, an unknown man was snapped going into the building. Right after this, the van picked up a knock on Lindfors's door.

Two hours later, Rystrom and Ekman were sitting in Rystrom's office listening to the conversation.

“Who is it?”

“It's Eugen.”

Sound of the front door opening. Footsteps. The door closed.

“What do you want?”

“We need to talk.”

“We were talked out four months ago. There's nothing more to say.”

“It's not about us. It's about Rodger's money.”

“What about it?”

“Don't tell me you didn't know he left everything to you?”

“He told me he was going to, but I didn't know he'd actually done it.”

“Well, he did. If he's alive, I'll get him to change his will. But with this news story about a maniac on the loose, so soon after he disappeared, I'm beginning to think he may not be.”

“I read it. It's awful. You don't really believe he's been kidnapped by some crazy cannibal?”

“The longer he's not found, it's becoming a real possibility. The police told me they thought he was dead. They're probably right.”

Sound of Lindfors crying.

“This isn't the time to talk about money. It's wrong.”

“It's exactly the time. Before his body's found and the will takes effect. That money is Westberg family money, not yours.”

“Rodger wanted me to have it.”

“Yes, as a marriage present, for your future security. But that won't happen now. I want you to agree not to take the money.”

“Why on earth should I?”

“You've got no right to any of it. Look, because Rodger wanted you to have something, I'll let you have 5 percent, not including the trust fund. All the rest stays in our family. In return, I'll agree not to tie up everything in a lawsuit. Otherwise it would be years before you'd see a krona.”

Long pause.

“This isn't the time to even bring this up, Eugen. But if you insist, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'm willing to let you have all the trust fund because that money has always been in your family. Five percent of the remaining money is ridiculous. I won't be victimized by you. However, I don't want to go to court, even though I think I'd win. So, I'll agree to take 75 percent.”

“That's really my money you're talking about. I gave Rodger most of it. I won't give you 75 percent. For nothing. That's absurd.”

“It's not for nothing, Eugen. A scandal about your years-long affair with your son's fiancée wouldn't do your marriage, your business, your political career, or your precious reputation any good, would it? But I'm a fair-minded person. Let's agree that I'll keep two-thirds of Rodger's money.”

“You're blackmailing me?”

“Not at all. You know I'm legally entitled to 100 percent of everything, including the trust fund. You're getting a terrific deal. You haven't got a legal leg to stand on. Let's say I'm willing to do this in memory of our time together, and what Rodger might have wanted.”

Long pause.

“All right. I'll have the papers drawn up. With a confidentiality clause. You drive a hard bargain.”

Pause.

“I loved you very much.”

“Not enough to leave your wife. Not enough to stop me from becoming your son's lover. Those were your mistakes. It's only right you should pay a penalty.”

Sound of the front door opening and slamming shut.

Rystrom looked over at Ekman. “What do you think?”

“I'm not sure yet. Let's hear the other recording after Stillen came back to the apartment.”

Rystrom turned the machine back on.

Sound of the front door opening and closing.

“Hi. It's me.”

“Carl. I'm so glad you're back.”

“Me too.”

Sound of kissing.

“Eugen left a little while ago.”

“What the hell did he want?”

“Money, believe it or not.”

“What? The money Rodger left you in his will?”

“Yes. All of it. Then he offered me 5 percent, but nothing from the trust fund. We finally agreed I'd get two-thirds, except for the trust—and no lawsuit.”

“You let him off easy. He's got balls, I'll give him that. He's also one cold son of a bitch.”

“I'm becoming more convinced of that every time I talk to him. I don't know what I ever saw in him.”

“Sure you do, baby. The same thing he came here for: money.”

“That's not fair, Carl. I really fell for him.”

“The money just made the old guy look younger, right? Just like Lindfors.”

She laughed.

“Anyway, everything is working out as planned. Actually, it's a good thing you've already got a deal with Westberg. Now we don't have to worry about him trying to stop us from getting the money. It'll be ours, and no argument, as soon as Rodger's body is found.”

“And when will that be?”

“Soon enough. (Pause.) Bodies have a way of turning up.”

“Your plan's working out honey.”

“Hasn't it always?”

“So far.” Pause. “Why don't we see what you can plan for me?”

Footsteps. The bedroom mic picked up the sounds of their lovemaking.

R
ystrom shut off the machine. Ekman was quiet for several moments.

“She lied to Westberg,” said Rystrom. “She told him she wasn't sure Rodger had changed his will. But she seemed certain of it talking with Stillen.”

“Yes, that's the key,” Ekman said. “If they murdered Westberg, they'd have to be very sure they could get the money, otherwise there'd be no point in risking it.”

“She's extremely calculating about using her sex appeal to have simultaneous affairs with Stillen and both Westbergs. Just as she apparently had with Stillen when she was married to Lindfors.”

“She's not the world's most moral woman. But that's not a crime,” Ekman said.

“She and Stillen did have a plan, however, to get their hands on the Westberg money. Stillen as much as admitted it. He also seemed to hint about an earlier scheme to get Lindfors's money.”

“You're right, Garth. They schemed; however, it's still not clear they murdered anyone.”

“How about Stillen's response to her question about Rodger's body? He seemed pretty sure it would be found.”

“I thought her question about that was interesting. From her tone, it was a real question, not a rhetorical one. If Stillen is the killer, she may not know it.”

“She's been with this man her entire adult life, except when he was in prison for almost killing that guy. She's not stupid. Lindfors has got to know whether he's a killer, even if she won't admit it to herself.”

“Knowing someone else is capable of murder, and being an accomplice to an actual murder, are very different things.”

“You're right, Walther. But remember that although Eberhardt Lindfors's death was ruled accidental, it may not have been. If it was murder, she's more likely to have done it than Stillen because she had easy access, and he didn't.”

“So what we may have here are two murderers who don't openly acknowledge each other's crimes?”

“It's possible.”

“Let's agree that it is. And let's say your general theory of the crime is close, but a little off. Suppose Stillen is Grendel. But even if Lindfors killed her second husband for his money, she doesn't know how insane Stillen is. There's no carefully thought-out, ruthless, long-term plan by both of them to get their hands on the Westberg money—and distract our investigation with extraneous killings and threats against me.

“Stillen is crazy, did those other killings on his own for whatever mad reason, just as he tried to get my attention with the Grendel character he later invented to focus our investigation elsewhere. When Lindfors met Eugen Westberg, events just gradually led to a plan by Stillen and Lindfors to somehow get hold of the Westberg money.

“Lindfors may not know that for Stillen, the plan always involved killing either the father or the son, depending on who would leave money to Lindfors. That actually makes more sense to me. What do you think?” He thought this approach fit in better with life's coincidences and general messiness.

“It sounds right to me too, Walther. What's our next move?”

“You haven't met him yet, Garth, but tomorrow I think we should talk to Jarl Karlsson, our profiler, and run all this by him. I want to get his take on Stillen and Lindfors.”

“Sure, I'd like to meet him,” Rystrom said as he looked at his watch. It was just past nine
P.M
. “Why don't we call it a day?”

“You're right, I hadn't realized how late it was getting. After we talk with Karlsson, we'll decide when to bring in Lindfors and Stillen for questioning.”

Before leaving, Ekman phoned Karlsson.

“Jarl, I hope I'm not calling too late. I need to see you tomorrow, in the morning, if at all possible. Yes, eleven is fine. I'm bringing someone with me: Garth Rystrom from National CID. He's working the case with me. See you then.”

Then he remembered to call Ingbritt.

“I'm just leaving the office and wanted to get you before it was too late. Yes, I'm fine. How is everyone? Good. Several new developments today and things are looking clearer. No, not yet. Yes, I hope we'll resolve this one soon and you can come home. I miss you, too. Good night, dear.”

Ekman had only grabbed a sandwich from the cafeteria for lunch. That was eight hours ago and he was starving. He looked up the number of the pizza place near his home and ordered a large with everything on it, to go, before heading out the door.

53

Chess

F
riday, October 21.
It was a clear, increasingly cold fall day under a bright, Prussian-blue sky. At seven fifteen, Ekman was sitting by himself, one of the few people in the police cafeteria, eating a second breakfast of waffles and sausage. The toast and coffee he'd had at home had barely lasted the drive in and he'd felt the urgent need for a hot meal.

Looking up from his plate, he saw Holm and Vinter standing uncertainly just outside the doorway. They finally made their way to the counter to place their orders. After getting their food, they glanced around the room and spotted Ekman sitting in the back at a corner table.

“Can we join you?” asked Holm.

“Please do,” he said, smiling up at him and Gerdi. Who do they think they're kidding, he wondered? He'd known they were a couple ever since they'd first started going together.

“That looks good,” said Gerdi, glancing at Ekman's rapidly shrinking stack of waffles. Her own tray held just orange juice, coffee, and toast.

“It's too good. I don't usually do this,” he said with a guilty look at his plate. “Ingbritt is out of town and I'm not much of a cook.

“Have you both rested up?” he asked, and then realized this could be taken as innuendo.

“From the surveillance,” he added, making matters worse.

Holm started to laugh. “We know what you mean, Chief.” He looked over at Gerdi. “I guess there's no use trying to hide anything from you,” he said to his boss.

Ekman looked from one to the other. “Actually, I've known for quite a while. And you needn't worry, you have my paternal blessing. Also, I know how to keep a secret,” he said with a straight face.

They both grinned back at him. The air had cleared and they relaxed.

Ekman turned to Holm and asked, “Did you get the DNA swabs?”

“I got one early yesterday from Gustaffson's father in Växjö. It didn't take any persuasion. He's anxious to do anything he can to help solve his son's disappearance. I drove it over myself to Malmquist to compare it with the ‘sample' Grendel sent.”

“Have you been able to get hold of Henriksson's parents?”

“I haven't been able to locate his father yet. His parents divorced years ago, but his mother lives up in Norrköping and is expecting me today. It's a bit of a drive. I thought I'd go up right after the meeting.”