Midnight In Malmö: The Fourth Inspector Anita Sundström Mystery (The Malmö Mysteries Book 4) (37 page)

‘Exactly.’ Hakim could see that the chief inspector needed some persuading. ‘Firstly, I need to ask Brodd a question.’ Moberg’s wave in the direction of the distraught Brodd was the granting of permission. ‘At any stage in your evenings with Nora did she mention Anita?’

Brodd shifted uneasily in his seat and then gave an apologetic cough. ‘Yeah. Well, I did. When she was asking me about members of the team, I must have dropped in Anita’s name. But I told her that she was away on holiday.’

‘And that was it?’

‘Erm… she did ask if she had gone anywhere nice. You know how people talk whenever holidays are mentioned. It was just that sort of thing. Perfectly innocent…’ his voice trailed off.

‘And did you tell her?’

‘No. Because I didn’t know where she’d gone. I wasn’t that interested.’

‘What’s this all about?’ demanded Moberg.

‘Sigyn Westermark – that’s what she still calls herself – chucked in her job in Boston in February. She flew over here in March. The day after the murder, she took a flight back to America. Three days later, she was back here again. I believe that’s because she found out that the person she had killed was the wrong one. It’s Anita she’s after.’

‘Because of her brother?’ Moberg was beginning to see where Hakim was coming from.

‘I think so. The timing of her quitting her job and leaving America fits in with the release of the official report on Karl Westermark’s death. She probably got it into her head that it was Anita’s fault that he killed himself – or that she put him in such a position that he had no other option. A grieving, vengeful sister.’

‘You think she was planning it for some time?’

Hakim was busy ordering his thoughts so that they would come out coherently. ‘I imagine she was watching Anita and her routine, which often included late night jogs. What Sigyn couldn’t have known was that Anita was going on holiday. But Ebba Pozorski, blonde with a baseball cap similar to Anita’s; roughly the same size and shape, appeared in the dusk coming from the direction of Anita’s apartment. The path from Kronborgsvägen to the road across from the park goes down the side of Anita’s building. Sigyn assumed it was her intended victim. Afterwards, she flies back to Boston, only to discover she’s killed the wrong person. So, she comes back to finish off what she failed to do. But she can’t find Anita, so she hangs around the pub that Anita frequents – The Pickwick – to try and find out where she’s gone. She strikes lucky because she finds Brodd there, who is not only a cop, but working on the case.’ Brodd winced. ‘Now she knows how the investigation is going and she realizes that she’s in the clear for the moment – we’re chasing other suspects. The only problem is that Brodd doesn’t know where Anita’s gone. And this is why we have to act quickly. As you may know, my sister is living with Anita’s son, Lasse. Jazmin reckoned that their apartment was being watched. It must have been Sigyn. Then Jazmin had her mobile phone stolen; the only thing she remembers is being aware of a blonde woman sitting next to her before the phone disappeared. Sigyn again.’

‘But why?’

‘Lasse has disappeared. I think Sigyn lured him using Jazmin’s phone. However it was done, my guess is that she’s got Lasse holed up somewhere.’ His eyebrows knitted into a worried frown. ‘Or has even killed him already.’

‘An eye for an eye?’

‘Absolutely. Either that, or it’s Sigyn’s way of guaranteeing that Anita returns to Malmö so she can complete the job.’

Moberg wiped his forehead. ‘Shit! Shit, shit, shit!’ He quickly weighed up the options. He couldn’t afford not to act decisively, even if he wasn’t totally convinced by Mirza’s theory. But it did make chilling sense, and if there was a young man out there facing a death sentence, they had to move heaven and earth to find him – and Sigyn Westermark.

‘Right! It’s even more urgent that we find out where she’s been over the last few months – house, work, et cetera. That might give us a clue as to where she is now. What’s your sister called again, Mirza?’

‘Jazmin.’

‘You say she had her mobile nicked. If Sigyn used it to get at Lasse, we should be able to trace where she made the call from – or any subsequent calls. Might give us a location to work on.’

‘Should we circulate her photo?’ Brodd suggested tentatively.

‘No!’ barked Moberg. ‘That’ll alert her that we’re on to her, and she might just kill Lasse and get the hell out of here. The one thing we’ve got –
thanks
to you – is that she doesn’t think she’s a suspect.’

‘And Anita?’ This was another major concern for Hakim.

‘Yes, Anita. I don’t want her alarmed. If she thinks her son’s in danger, she’ll go off the deep end and try and do everything herself and get in the fucking way.’

‘But I reckon she’s the real target. She’s got to be warned.’ It came out as an impassioned plea.

‘I’m well aware that one of my officers is in peril. Leave her to me.’ The implications of what was happening began to dawn on Moberg and simultaneously raised his blood pressure. ‘Get Wallen to get as many people as we need on this – on my authority. Everybody meet again in two hours. Now fucking go!’ he bawled.

Moberg lumbered into Hakim’s office. He wore the expression of an extremely frustrated man.

‘Anita. I can’t get hold of her. She’s not answering her mobile or home phone. Do you know where she was spending her holiday?’

‘Up the coast from Simrishamn.’

‘Where exactly?’

‘Not really sure. But Jazmin went over there last week with Lasse. She’ll know.’

‘Right, get the address out of her, and then I’ll get someone from the Simrishamn station to go and pick Anita up. We can’t afford to have her wandering around if Sigyn Westermark’s on the loose. I want her here, or at home under protection.’

The meeting room was buzzing, but the underlying tension was inescapable, as they knew that one of their own was being targeted. Besides Wallen, Hakim and Brodd, there were seven other officers who had been hastily co-opted onto the investigation. Moberg came storming in.

‘Right,’ started the chief inspector before he had even taken his place at the head of the table. ‘Anita Sundström. She’s still out of mobile phone contact. I’ve been onto the police in Simrishamn and they’re sending a couple of officers round to where she’s staying. I just hope she’s there. OK, background on Sigyn Westermark, please.’

A petite detective called Ylva Forsgren chirped up. ‘She was brought up in Trelleborg with her brother Karl. Parents both dead; and the only living relative we’ve managed to contact is an aunt who’s still living there. Said she hadn’t seen Sigyn since Karl’s funeral. Hardly anyone turned up to that. I got the impression that the family had been badly affected by Westermark’s cop-killing antics and his sticky end, and they didn’t want to be associated with his memory. That’s why the aunt wasn’t even aware that Sigyn had returned from America in March. She did say that Sigyn was deeply troubled by her brother’s death. As far as she’s aware, no one she knew had seen Sigyn recently.’

‘What about America?’

‘Per here,’ she said pointing to a prematurely balding man in his thirties, ‘has spoken to the husband, Brad Guzman.’

Per Mattinsson took over. ‘They were married for four years. He says that Sigyn worshipped her big brother. He admitted he never really took to Karl, though he made an effort for her sake. The marriage seemed happy enough, but everything changed after Karl’s death. She became moody and distracted. Started taking all sorts of medication. The job she loved at the local high school no longer interested her. Brad puts their split directly down to Sigyn’s inability to cope with her brother’s death. He’s had no contact with her since the divorce. He’d heard that she’d left her job and assumed she had probably gone home to Sweden.’

Moberg puffed out his cheeks. ‘So, we’re dealing with a seriously disturbed lady who seems to be putting the blame for her brother’s death at Anita’s door. Klara, where are we up to with Sigyn’s movements?’

‘We found out that she’s been living in an apartment near the Torso. Three-month rental: paid up to the end of June. We’ve had a squad car out there but there’s no sign of her. Doesn’t appear that she’s gone back there on her return from the US. So we’re now doing the rounds of hotels, hostels, and bed and breakfast places. Nothing yet.’

‘Hakim?’

‘Through the tax people, we’ve discovered that she was working most of that time as an attendant at the Kallbadhus down on the beach. As soon as this is finished, I’ll head down there.’

‘Good,’ snapped Moberg. ‘Where are we at with your sister’s phone?’

‘Brodd was dealing with that.’

All eyes turned on Brodd. News of his “girlfriend” had quickly spread through the corridors of the polishus.

He answered nervously. ‘There’s no signal at the moment. The last time it was used was last night at 22.03. Nothing since. We’ve managed to trace the location where the phone was last used. It was somewhere in the vicinity of Roskildevägen.’

‘Where Anita lives?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And the last call made was to Sundström’s mobile.’

‘Fuck! So has Sigyn already made contact with Anita?’ Moberg fell silent. Everybody watched him as he swiftly evaluated the situation and decided what action to take.

‘Maybe once she’d got hold of Lasse, she assumed that my sister would get straight onto Anita, and she’d come rushing back to Malmö. Eventually she’d go home, and Sigyn would be waiting for her. But she didn’t appear, so she tried to ring her.’

‘That makes sense. But if Anita’s phone is still off, Sigyn might still be hanging around hoping that she’ll turn up. Klara, take Brodd and as many officers as you need, and comb the area. Now, what about Lasse? This is a question we’ve got to ask – is he alive or dead?’

Wallen gave Hakim a pitying glance. ‘I’m sorry to say that there must be a good chance he’s not alive. If Sigyn was in the vicinity of Anita’s apartment last night, what’s she done with Lasse? There can’t be many places she could keep him captive. It’s simpler stashing away a dead body than a living one.’

Hakim was clearly upset by the thought. ‘But on the other hand, would she get rid of Lasse before she knew that Anita was back in the city? Unless killing Lasse is an end in itself,’ he admitted reluctantly.

‘OK, until a body turns up, we’ve got to work under the assumption that he’s still alive. We need to find him fast. Where’s your sister, by the way, Mirza?’

‘She’s still at her flat.’

‘Right. I’ll send round an officer to keep an eye on her, just in case. We’ve got a bitter and twisted woman running around our patch and she might get it into her head…’ He didn’t have to complete the sentence; they all understood the scale of the task they faced.

Hakim walked along the white pier that jutted out from the beach, towards the Kallbadhus. Built in 1898, the low, wooden cold bathhouse, painted a restful willow green, stood on stilts in the water, veering off at two symmetrical right angles at the end of the pier; the whole forming the shape of a T. Visiting it for a sauna and sea dip, whatever time of year, was a Malmö institution. Not that Hakim was a regular visitor. He had only been twice, and that had been in the company of Lasse, who was grateful that Hakim was paying. Saunas of increasing heat alternated with jumping into the sea to cool off. It hadn’t been his idea of fun, but he had to admit he had felt better afterwards.

There was a café at the entrance, and it was a pleasant place to while away a few hours in the shadow of the Turning Torso, which loomed over the surrounding sea. The Kallbadhus was on the first pier of five dotted along the length of the beach at Ribersborgs, stretching out like a bony hand into the Sound. This was the only one with a large building at the end. Pier number three was also T-shaped, while the other three were just straight. The beach itself was filling up, as this was now the school vacation, and with the Midsummer holiday long weekend beginning tomorrow, it would get even busier.

At the small reception, Hakim flashed his warrant card at a gangly young man with short, brown hair and the beginnings of a moustache. ‘I need to speak to someone about Sigyn Westermark.’

The young man pulled a face. ‘Well, I know her. As much as anyone. We worked shifts together.’

‘Can we have a word? Outside, preferably.’

The young man looked round and called over to a girl who was cleaning one of the café tables. ‘Saga, can you take over reception for a minute?’

She nodded. ‘No problem, Magnus.’

He followed Hakim out onto the pier decking. Hakim got straight to the point.

‘When did you last see Sigyn?’

‘Is she in trouble?’

‘Just answer the question.’

Magnus thought carefully. ‘It was a Sunday. I remember that. Beginning of the month.’

‘That would be June the first – that fits in. Did she resign?’

‘No. She just didn’t turn up on the Tuesday. Monday was her day off. Never heard anything from her. Mind you, she was a bit weird.’

‘In what way?’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You know, just strange. Not very friendly. Kept herself to herself. Didn’t join in much – unless someone or something was useful to her. The old, wrinkly guys loved her, though. She’s attractive. Good body,’ he said admiringly.

‘Did she ever talk about living in America?’

His surprise was obvious. ‘I didn’t know—’

‘Did she ever mention having a brother?’

He shook his head. A steady stream of clients wandered in and out of the building. A middle-aged couple came walking up and hovered near where Hakim and Magnus were standing. They were more interested in the design of the building than Hakim’s conversation. Nonetheless, Hakim moved away a few steps. Magnus followed.

‘Did she ever talk about the police?’

‘Don’t think so.’ Then he clicked his fingers. ‘There was an incident on the beach. Some lads getting obstreperous. Too much drink. The police were called. I remember her being really rude about them. The police, that is. “Murdering bastards.” That’s what she said. I was quite taken aback. They were only breaking up a fight.’

Hakim was beginning to wonder if Sigyn had come across Lasse in one of his visits to the bathhouse; he knew he came as often as his wallet would allow. Maybe that’s when her plan B had been formed. Plan A had worked a treat, except she’d got the wrong person.