[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.’Olivia held the earring in her hand.It was a rather special design.Almost like a rosette which became a heart, with a little pearl hanging at the bottom, and a blue stone in the middle.Very beautiful.They reminded her of something.Surely she had seen a similar earring before?Not so very long ago?‘Can I borrow this until tomorrow?’‘Why?’‘Because… I’ve seen something similar quite recently.’In a shop? she suddenly thought.A shop on Sibyllegatan?* * *Mette Olsäter sat with some of her team in the investigation room at Polhemsgatan.A couple of them had celebrated the Midsummer holiday, a couple of others had kept on working.Now they had listened to Mette’s interrogation of Bertil Magnuson.For the third time.They all felt the same: he’s lying about the telephone calls.Partly it was an empirical feeling.Experienced interrogators who could weigh every sliding nuance in the tone of the person being interrogated.But also something more concrete.Why should Nils Wendt phone Bertil Magnuson four times and not say anything? As Magnuson claimed.Wendt must have understood that Magnuson would not in his wildest imagination ever think that it was Nils Wendt, missing for twenty-seven years, who wasn’t saying a word on the other end.And what then would be the point of the calls? On Wendt’s part?‘He wasn’t silent.’‘No.’‘So what did he say?’‘Something that Magnuson didn’t want to reveal.’‘And what could that be about?’‘The past.’At this point, Mette cut in on her colleagues’ reasoning.She assumed that Wendt really had been missing for twenty-seven years and suddenly turned up in Stockholm and phoned his former business partner.And the only thing that connected them today was yesterday.‘So if we hypothetically say that Magnuson is behind the murder of Wendt, then the motive must lie in those four conversations,’ she said.‘Blackmail?’‘Perhaps.’‘And what did Wendt have that he could blackmail Magnuson with? Today?’ Lisa wondered.‘Something that happened then.’‘And who can know about it? Besides Magnuson?’‘Wendt’s sister in Geneva?’‘Doubtful.’‘His ex-wife?’ Bosse wondered.‘Or Erik Grandén,’ said Mette.‘The politician?’‘He was on the board of Magnuson Wendt Mining when Wendt disappeared.’‘Shall I get in touch with him?’ Lisa wondered.‘Yes, do.’Olivia sat on the underground train.The whole way in to town from the caravan, she had been pondering Stilton’s information.She wasn’t sure what he had meant.More than that it wasn’t a good idea to get too close to Jackie Berglund.When he himself had done so, it ended with him being removed from the case.But she wasn’t a police officer.Yet.She wasn’t part of any official investigation.Nobody could remove her.Threaten, absolutely, and kill her cat under the bonnet of a car.But no more.She was free to do what she wanted, she thought.And she wanted to do just that.Get close to Jackie Berglund, cat murderer.Try to get something from Jackie that you could use for a DNA test.To see if it was Jackie’s hair that Gardman had found on the beach.And how could that be arranged?She could hardly walk into Jackie’s boutique again.She must have help.Then she had an idea.Which would necessitate her doing something repulsive.Exceedingly repulsive.* * *It was a shabby two-room flat on Söderarmsvägen in Kärrtorp, on the second floor.No name on the door, almost no furniture in the rooms.Wearing only underwear, Mink stood beside the window sticking steel needles in his flesh.It didn’t happen often.Almost never.He was on less heavy stuff nowadays.But sometimes he had to have a real blowout.He looked around him in the pad.He was still really pissed off about what happened out at the caravan.‘Not even with a bargepole.’ That fucking bitch blew him off like he was a nobody.A loser, someone you could imagine standing in their back garden jerking off into a flowerpot.It felt fucking awful.But what do you need to support a fallen ego? In less than ten minutes, Mink was out on the track again.His fluttering brain had already constructed several explanations for the humiliation.From the fact that the girl had had absolutely no clue as to whom she was talking to – Mink the Man – to that she was an idiot quite simply.Besides, she was cross-eyed.A pathetic cunt who thought she could get the better of Mink!Now it felt much better.When the doorbell rang, he was right back on the level of his own ego again.His legs almost trotted away by themselves.High? So what? He was a guy on the move.A trickster who had his entire toolbox under control.He almost wrenched open the door.The pathetic cunt?Mink stared at Olivia.‘Hello,’ she said.Mink continued to stare.‘I just wanted to apologize,’ she went on.‘I was dreadfully rude the other evening, quite out of order, out by the caravan, and I really didn’t mean it, but I was so shocked over what they had done to Stilton, and it was nothing personal, I promise.I was just bloody stupid.Really.Sorry.’‘What the fuck d’you want?’Olivia thought she had already expressed that very clearly, so she went on according to plan.‘Is this the flat you own? Worth five million?’‘At least.’She had thought through her strategy very carefully [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.’Olivia held the earring in her hand.It was a rather special design.Almost like a rosette which became a heart, with a little pearl hanging at the bottom, and a blue stone in the middle.Very beautiful.They reminded her of something.Surely she had seen a similar earring before?Not so very long ago?‘Can I borrow this until tomorrow?’‘Why?’‘Because… I’ve seen something similar quite recently.’In a shop? she suddenly thought.A shop on Sibyllegatan?* * *Mette Olsäter sat with some of her team in the investigation room at Polhemsgatan.A couple of them had celebrated the Midsummer holiday, a couple of others had kept on working.Now they had listened to Mette’s interrogation of Bertil Magnuson.For the third time.They all felt the same: he’s lying about the telephone calls.Partly it was an empirical feeling.Experienced interrogators who could weigh every sliding nuance in the tone of the person being interrogated.But also something more concrete.Why should Nils Wendt phone Bertil Magnuson four times and not say anything? As Magnuson claimed.Wendt must have understood that Magnuson would not in his wildest imagination ever think that it was Nils Wendt, missing for twenty-seven years, who wasn’t saying a word on the other end.And what then would be the point of the calls? On Wendt’s part?‘He wasn’t silent.’‘No.’‘So what did he say?’‘Something that Magnuson didn’t want to reveal.’‘And what could that be about?’‘The past.’At this point, Mette cut in on her colleagues’ reasoning.She assumed that Wendt really had been missing for twenty-seven years and suddenly turned up in Stockholm and phoned his former business partner.And the only thing that connected them today was yesterday.‘So if we hypothetically say that Magnuson is behind the murder of Wendt, then the motive must lie in those four conversations,’ she said.‘Blackmail?’‘Perhaps.’‘And what did Wendt have that he could blackmail Magnuson with? Today?’ Lisa wondered.‘Something that happened then.’‘And who can know about it? Besides Magnuson?’‘Wendt’s sister in Geneva?’‘Doubtful.’‘His ex-wife?’ Bosse wondered.‘Or Erik Grandén,’ said Mette.‘The politician?’‘He was on the board of Magnuson Wendt Mining when Wendt disappeared.’‘Shall I get in touch with him?’ Lisa wondered.‘Yes, do.’Olivia sat on the underground train.The whole way in to town from the caravan, she had been pondering Stilton’s information.She wasn’t sure what he had meant.More than that it wasn’t a good idea to get too close to Jackie Berglund.When he himself had done so, it ended with him being removed from the case.But she wasn’t a police officer.Yet.She wasn’t part of any official investigation.Nobody could remove her.Threaten, absolutely, and kill her cat under the bonnet of a car.But no more.She was free to do what she wanted, she thought.And she wanted to do just that.Get close to Jackie Berglund, cat murderer.Try to get something from Jackie that you could use for a DNA test.To see if it was Jackie’s hair that Gardman had found on the beach.And how could that be arranged?She could hardly walk into Jackie’s boutique again.She must have help.Then she had an idea.Which would necessitate her doing something repulsive.Exceedingly repulsive.* * *It was a shabby two-room flat on Söderarmsvägen in Kärrtorp, on the second floor.No name on the door, almost no furniture in the rooms.Wearing only underwear, Mink stood beside the window sticking steel needles in his flesh.It didn’t happen often.Almost never.He was on less heavy stuff nowadays.But sometimes he had to have a real blowout.He looked around him in the pad.He was still really pissed off about what happened out at the caravan.‘Not even with a bargepole.’ That fucking bitch blew him off like he was a nobody.A loser, someone you could imagine standing in their back garden jerking off into a flowerpot.It felt fucking awful.But what do you need to support a fallen ego? In less than ten minutes, Mink was out on the track again.His fluttering brain had already constructed several explanations for the humiliation.From the fact that the girl had had absolutely no clue as to whom she was talking to – Mink the Man – to that she was an idiot quite simply.Besides, she was cross-eyed.A pathetic cunt who thought she could get the better of Mink!Now it felt much better.When the doorbell rang, he was right back on the level of his own ego again.His legs almost trotted away by themselves.High? So what? He was a guy on the move.A trickster who had his entire toolbox under control.He almost wrenched open the door.The pathetic cunt?Mink stared at Olivia.‘Hello,’ she said.Mink continued to stare.‘I just wanted to apologize,’ she went on.‘I was dreadfully rude the other evening, quite out of order, out by the caravan, and I really didn’t mean it, but I was so shocked over what they had done to Stilton, and it was nothing personal, I promise.I was just bloody stupid.Really.Sorry.’‘What the fuck d’you want?’Olivia thought she had already expressed that very clearly, so she went on according to plan.‘Is this the flat you own? Worth five million?’‘At least.’She had thought through her strategy very carefully [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]