Åke Edwardson - Sun and Shadow

“For me too when you answered. I thought you’d chartered a yacht in the West Indies.”

Vennerhag eyed Winter up and down.

“You thought almost right.” He opened the back door. “Something cropped up and got in the way.”

“What was that, Benny?”

“Business. You know. How’s Lotta, by the way?”

“Enough of that.”

Benny Vennerhag had once been married to Winter’s sister, but it had lasted only a few days. The memory lingered with Lotta Winter as a vague nightmare.

Vennerhag led the way into a big room facing the garden. The picture windows stretched almost from floor to ceiling.

“I’m afraid the swimming pool is snowed over,” Vennerhag said. “But you can have a sauna if you like.”

There were bottles on the tables, and glasses. The room smelled of smoke.

“I haven’t gotten around to cleaning up, only snow shoveling.” He picked up a bottle and held it to the light. The whisky glinted like amber. “It tasted good last night, but I don’t know about now.” He looked at Winter. “Would you like a coffee or something?”

Winter shook his head.

“You look a bit under the weather, if I can put it like that.”

“I had to get up early this morning.”

“I heard something on the lunchtime news.”

“What did you hear?”

“Something about a murder, in Mölndal. That’s about all they said.” He looked at Winter again, more closely this time. “You don’t think that I-”

“No. But I need some information.”

“What about?”

Winter thought for a moment.

“This business,” he said. “The murder. Or murders. There’ve been several.”

“Really?”

“How are things on the stolen goods front nowadays?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Have you got tabs on what’s being passed around?”

“No.” He asked Winter again if he wanted something to drink, and Winter said no. Vennerhag excused himself and went to the kitchen to get a bottle of mineral water. “Where were we? Trafficking in stolen goods? That’s not a nice thing to do.”

“Uniforms.”

“Uniforms? What kind of uniforms?”

“Do you know anything about trafficking in uniforms? A batch that’s been stolen… or borrowed, for some reason? Or just individual uniforms that have been in circulation. Maybe for… copying.”

“I don’t go in for terrorism, Erik.”

“I’d like you to look into it.”

“I’ve never heard of anything of that sort.”

“Look into it.”

“Yes, yes. All right.”

Winter lit a Corps.

“Has there been any talk about anybody in your circle of friends who’s been acting oddly?” he asked. “Or outside it, come to that?”

“Now you’ve lost me.”

“Do you have tabs on all the madmen?”

“Don’t you?”

It was a long shot. Winter was asking about Vennerhag’s acquaintances in the criminal world. He wasn’t getting any answers he could use.

He thought for a moment about how much he ought to reveal. He gave Vennerhag a brief outline of what had happened.

“That’s a loner,” Vennerhag said. “He doesn’t belong to our… business circle.” He fetched the coffee he’d made anyway. “Somebody like that always works on his own. Mad. No contacts.”

“There’s another thing…”

Vennerhag poured out some coffee for Winter and himself.

“Do you move in any circles that… well, that play sex games?”

Vennerhag gave a start and very nearly dropped his cup of coffee into his lap.

“What the hell was that you said?”

“That’s one of the lines we’re following. We have grounds for suspicion. All right. You are as pure as the snow on the pool out there, but you’re not ignorant.”

‘About what?“

“Sex parties. Swinger parties. Wife swapping. That kind of thing.”

“You’re talking about other people’s private lives here, Erik. How should I know anything like that?”

“Is it common?”

“No idea. Are you suggesting that me and my… business contacts are likely to be involved in that kind of thing? I’m starting to get angry.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Back off.”

“I’d like you to do something for me. If you know anybody who acts as a contact for these kinds of goings-on, I’d like to hear about them.”

“How do you mean? A sort of spider in a web?”

“Yes, something like that. Somebody who knows others who know others.”

“As I said, I have no idea.”

“But you know others who know others,” Winter said.

“Will you leave if I nod my head?”

“Yes.”

Vennerhag nodded his head and Winter stood up.

“I heard you were expecting a new member of the family,” Vennerhag said.

“How did you hear that?”

“Come on, Chief Inspector. The private lives of celebrities are simply not private. And in the circles I move in, you’re a celebrity.”

The Elfvegrens were politely asked to come to the station to be asked some questions in connection with the investigation.

“No more Mister Nice Guy,” Halders said to Djanali.

“No. I mean, you’re widely known as a kind, friendly man.”

“No more.”

Winter had decided that Halders should do the talking when the Elfvegrens came. Winter sat in the background.

“Why do you have pornographic magazines in your apartment?” Halders asked.

Erika Elfvegren’s face turned as red as a beetroot. Per Elfvegren was nonplussed.

“Aktuell Rapport,” Halders said. “I saw a few copies when we came to talk to you.”

“What… what’s this all about?” Per Elfvegren said.

“It’s about murder,” Halders said. “People you knew have been murdered. That’s what this is about.”

Good, Fredrik, Winter thought, making himself invisible in the corner diagonally behind Halders. The woman had looked at him, as if seeking support. Winter hadn’t moved a muscle. No more good cop, bad cop.

“What does that have to do with the… magazines?”

“That’s what we’re wondering as well. That’s why we’re asking.”

“I don’t understand,” Erika Elfvegren said. Her face was still red and she kept pulling her skirt down over her knees. Halders had touched a nerve. Winter could see that her husband was taking it better. He was starting to get angry in the midst of his humiliation.

“What the fuck is all this?” Per Elfvegren said. “It’s ridiculous.” He looked at Winter, but Winter was busy with his notebook. This was an important moment in the investigation. Perhaps we’re closing in now, he thought. Perhaps this is where it starts getting serious. ‘Are we being accused of anything?“ Elfvegren said. ”And we damn well don’t have any copies of that magazine you’re talking about. Fib Aktuellt, did you say?“

“Aktuell Rapport, ” Halders said. He turned to the woman. His profile softened. Winter saw it happen. “All we want is some help from you. This is nothing to get worked up about. I know lots of people who regularly buy Aktuell Rapport.”

“I’m damned if I do,” said Per Elfvegren. ‘And I never buy it myself.“

“But you did know people who bought it,” said Halders. “The Valkers. The Martells.”

Halders glanced at Winter. They hadn’t found any copies of the magazine in the Valkers’ apartment. But Winter had a brainwave and made a note.

“What does that mean?” the woman said, in a tiny voice. “You said yourself it’s not unusual.” She looked at her husband. “If that’s the case.”

“I’m not sitting here and asking you questions for fun,” Halders said. “There have been some grisly murders in Gothenburg this winter, and you knew all the victims.” He eyed them up and down, one after the other. “We’re looking for the common denominator, you must understand that.”