Mari Jungstedt - The Dead Of Summer

Jacobsson silently reminded herself that she needed to make sure the Swedish Crime Laboratory, the SCL in Linköping, gave priority to examining the bullets to find out what type of gun was used. She turned to Sohlman.

‘Erik, could you see to it that the SCL puts a rush on this case, both the post mortem and the examination of the bullets? We can’t rule out that we’re dealing with someone who’s mentally ill, and in the worst-case scenario he may have developed a taste for killing. There’s a good chance he’ll strike again.’

PETER BOVIDE’S PARTNER, Johnny Ekwall, looked pale and upset when he arrived for the interview at police headquarters on the night of the murder. His muscular body slumped, and he was obviously having trouble holding back the tears. He sank heavily on to the chair across from Jacobsson, who was already sitting at the table in the cramped interrogation room. He smelled strongly of sweat. Jacobsson wrinkled her nose but decided she’d have to overlook it, since the man’s colleague had just been murdered, after all.

‘I realize that it’s tough to have to come here,’ she said sympathetically, ‘but I’m afraid it’s necessary. We need to gather as much information as we can about Peter Bovide, and do it quickly, so that we can catch the murderer.’

She switched on the tape recorder and ran through the standard statements. Then she leaned back in her chair and studied the man sitting in front of her. She knew that he was fifty-two, but she thought he looked older. His hair was thinning, and he had deep lines on his face.

‘How long have you been running the company together?’

‘Five years. Peter had dreamed of doing it for a long time – starting his own company, I mean – and recently things have really taken off. This is too bloody awful.’

He stared down at the table.

‘How did you divide up the work?’

‘Peter mostly handles the administrative and financial sides of the business, plus he goes after more jobs and writes bids. I take care of the practical matters. Meaning, I find the men to do the work and things like that. Make sure that everything is going smoothly. I also get more personally involved in the operational side than Peter does. I spend as much time as I can out at the construction sites. Peter mostly stays in the office. You might say that he’s the brains of the company while I’m the heart.’

Jacobsson raised her eyebrows at this use of metaphor. She felt an instant empathy for this man who spoke of Peter Bovide as if he were still alive.

‘How did you happen to meet?’

‘It was back in the nineties, when there were very few construction jobs to be had. We were both working extra hard as longshoremen at Slite harbour. After that we often ended up working at the same building sites, and we became good friends.’

‘Why did you decide to start a company together with Peter?’

‘I’ve spent my whole life working for other people, and I thought it was about time for me to run my own business. Peter was always a driving force at the construction sites. He inspired the other guys to work more efficiently and pick up the tempo, so I trusted him. If I was going to try starting my own company, I wanted to do it with him. And I’d saved up a fair amount of money, so that was enough for our initial investment.’

‘Are you married? Do you have children?’

‘No.’

‘Could you describe Peter? What was he like?’

‘Everybody liked him. He was the quiet type, very meticulous. And he was a workaholic, he really was. Never stopped working.’

‘How was his marriage?’

‘Vendela and the kids were everything to him. He was one of the few guys I know who actually had a great relationship with his wife. He put in long hours, but he always went straight home when the work was done.’

Johnny Ekwall sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. Jacobsson paused for a moment before asking her next question.

‘And the business was doing well, you said?’

‘Yes. It was tough in the beginning, but for the past year the work has been pouring in. People are building like crazy. We’ve also had some big jobs that paid really well. Things are going better and better. We’ve even been thinking about hiring a couple more guys. And now this happens. It’s so damn unfair.’

‘Do you have any idea who might have wanted to harm Peter?’

‘Not a clue.’

‘Have you noticed any changes lately? Somebody new he’d made contact with, or anything like that? Think carefully. Every detail is important, no matter how small.’

Johnny Ekwall hesitated before replying.

‘Well, actually, Peter told me that sometimes he felt like he was being watched. Just recently, not long before he died.’

Jacobsson gave a start.

‘What do you mean by “watched”?’

‘As if someone was literally tailing him, shadowing him.’

‘When did this happen?’

‘Once when we were having coffee at the company office, as usual. He suddenly got up and went over to the window to look outside. I asked him what was going on, and he told me that he thought he’d heard something, and then he saw a shadow pass by outside.’

‘Did you see anything?’

‘No. It happened again when we were doing some grocery shopping in Slite. He kept turning round, and he said that he had the feeling somebody was after him.’

‘When did all this start?’

‘A few weeks ago, maybe in early June.’

‘Did he ever show this sort of behaviour before?’

‘No. But lately he started getting strange phone calls as well.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Someone would ring him up and then just put down the phone.’

‘Did you get these kinds of calls too?’

‘No, but I know it happened to Peter several times.’

‘What did the person on the phone say?’

‘I don’t think they said anything. Maybe it was just a wrong number.’

‘What time of day did these calls take place?’

‘Any time at all, I think.’

‘Do you know whether he got these calls at home too?’

‘He never mentioned it.’

‘Did anyone else at the company get these types of phone calls?’

‘No.’

‘Do you think it had something to do with your business?’

‘Haven’t the foggiest. I don’t even know whether he was really being followed or whether it was just his imagination. He was a bit fragile from a psychological standpoint, I have to admit.’

‘Fragile? What do you mean by that?’

‘Sometimes he’d get depressed and hardly say a word all day. He seemed to retreat inside himself. It was obvious that he was feeling low.’

‘Do you know what caused it?’

‘No.’

‘Did you ever talk about it?’

‘No. I did try to bring it up a few times, but I could tell that he didn’t want to talk about it, so I dropped the subject.’

‘How much do you know about the company’s finances?’

‘Not a thing, as a matter of fact. As I said, Peter handled everything to do with the account books. I have no sense for numbers.’

JOHAN AND PIA were working to get their report ready in time for the first evening news broadcast. They were sitting in the editorial office of Regional News, housed in the Swedish TV and Radio building on Östra Hansegatan, just outside the ring wall. For the past few years Gotland had been included in the area covered by Regional News, but there was no permanent staff on the island. Johan had been forced to get used to commuting back and forth between Stockholm and Visby. It had been very trying, not just professionally but also in terms of his personal life. His relationship with Emma Winarve was complicated enough, and it had been that way from the very beginning. She was married when they first met, and she had two young children. They instantly fell in love and carried on a passionate affair in secret. When Emma was pregnant with Johan’s child, she got a divorce and gave birth to their daughter, Elin, who was now a year old. Emma had been too bewildered after the divorce to move in with Johan right away, which had greatly upset him.