Johan Theorin - The Quarry

‘Moleng... What’s that?’

Jerry smiled to himself. ‘Malmö.’

‘Moleng Noar in Malmö?’

Jerry nodded.

‘It sounds like a Chinese restaurant,’ said Per. ‘Or is it a person... a Chinese person you knew in Malmö?’

Jerry shook his head.

‘Cindy,’ he mumbled all of a sudden. ‘Suzie, Christy, Debbie...’

‘Was it a place where you used to meet girls in Malmö?’

His father merely nodded and smiled to himself; he didn’t speak again as they drove through the town.

The police station in Kalmar was a large, yellow-brick building with narrow windows. It was just north of the town centre, and occupied half a block.

Jerry looked at the sign that said POLICE outside the entrance, and gave a start. He refused to move.

‘It’s fine,’ Per said quietly. ‘They just want to talk to us.’

He gave their names to the woman on reception and sat down with Jerry on a plastic-covered sofa. In front of them was a poster on the dangers of selling alcohol to those under-age, featuring the sorrowful eyes of a young girl and the words DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR DAUGHTER’S DOING TONIGHT?

Yes, I do , thought Per.

Lars Marklund, the inspector he had spoken to on the phone, came out after a few minutes. He was casually dressed in jeans and grey polo-neck sweater.

‘Welcome,’ he said, shaking hands. ‘We thought we’d have a chat with you on your own first, Per. Then we’ll bring Gerhard in later.’ He glanced at Jerry. ‘You can wait here for the time being, Gerhard.’

Jerry suddenly looked anxious. He tried to get up, but Per bent down to him. ‘You just stay here, Jerry, it’ll be fine... I’ll be back soon.’

His father seemed to consider this, then he nodded.

Marklund led Per to a small, bare room containing nothing but a desk covered in various folders, and two chairs. ‘Take a seat... So you’re from Öland?’

Per sat down opposite him. ‘That’s right.’

‘It’s a beautiful place... I’ve always fancied a house on Öland. Is it expensive?’

‘I should think it might be... I don’t really know. I inherited my cottage.’

‘Lucky you.’ Marklund picked up a pen and looked at Per. ‘OK... Can you just tell me in your own words exactly what you saw both outside and inside the house that day? Every detail is important.’

‘About the fire, you mean?’

Per glanced down at the desk, and saw that Marklund was resting his elbow on some kind of technical report, and a sketch of the ground floor of Jerry’s house. He could see arrows and crosses on the drawing, and the words FIRE STARTED DELIBERATELY IN FIVE PLACES! written in pencil.

‘Absolutely, tell me all you can about the fire,’ said Marklund. ‘How you discovered it, when you made that discovery, exactly where you were in the house, whether you noticed any damage before the fire, and how you think the fire spread.’

Per took a deep breath, then started to explain how he had gone to Jerry’s house to pick up his father, only to discover that he had been attacked with a knife. He told Marklund he had gone back into the house, up the stairs and into the smoke-filled room where the bed was on fire. He thought he had seen a man’s body there, then heard a woman screaming from another room. And then the fire suddenly seemed to be getting closer from several different directions, and he had to jump out of the window.

The truth and nothing but the truth, as far as he could remember. It took about quarter of an hour.

‘That’s all I know,’ he said when he had finished. ‘I was inside the house, but I had nothing to do with starting the fire.’

‘Nobody said you did,’ said Marklund, making a note on his pad.

Per leaned forward. ‘But what have you found out? It must have been carefully set up, surely?’

Marklund didn’t respond at first.

‘Normally we wouldn’t comment, but you did see a can of petrol with holes punched in it, and a car battery — what does that indicate?’

‘Planning,’ said Per.

Marklund nodded. ‘The forensic team found remnants of paper near the places where the fires started... remnants of documents.’

Per thought about the open door to Jerry’s apartment. ‘They might have been contracts,’ he said. ‘For people who appeared in Jerry and Bremer’s films and magazines. Have you spoken to any of them?’

‘They’re not that easy to find,’ said Marklund. ‘We haven’t had much success so far.’

‘No, they didn’t use their real names,’ said Per. ‘Do you need any help? I could have a look for—’

The detective quickly shook his head. ‘That’s our job.’

Per raised his eyes wearily to the ceiling. Ungrateful sod.

‘But we believe the dead woman was a former model,’ said Marklund.

Per looked at him. ‘Oh? What was her name?’

‘We’re not prepared to reveal her name at this stage.’ Marklund made a note, then went on, ‘Tell me about your father... How long has he been involved in this particular profession? And what did he do before that?’

‘Jerry’s never said much about it,’ said Per. ‘But I know his father was a vicar, and Jerry left home pretty early on and became a car dealer at the beginning of the fifties. I’m sure he was good at it... And a few years later he bought a postcard company and started printing erotic pictures. They sold well. Then in the sixties he launched his first magazine, Babylon ; it was printed in Denmark and smuggled into Sweden aboard small motorboats.’ He stopped, then added, ‘But then porn became legal in Sweden at the beginning of the seventies. He formed a limited company and started employing people, and sold magazines all over Europe.’

‘So that was the start of your father’s glory days, if I can put it that way?’ Marklund made another note before looking up. ‘And the people he employed — what do you know about them?’

‘Nothing. One guy who was around a lot was called Markus Lukas, but that sounds made up as well.’

‘And Bremer? What do you know about Hans Bremer?’

‘Not much.’

‘Have you ever met him?’

Per shook his head. ‘I only know bits and pieces that my father has mentioned over the years... they started working together at the end of the seventies, and Bremer lived in Malmö. Jerry said he was a fast, efficient worker, and he was very pleased with him.’

Marklund wrote this down, then said, ‘We probably know a little bit more about Bremer than you do.’

‘Like what?’

‘I can’t go into detail, but Bremer was involved in various things down in Malmö. The film business was just one of his many interests... We’re busy looking into everything else at the moment.’

‘So he was a gangster?’

‘I didn’t say that. So they got on well, your father and Bremer?’

‘I think so, I mean they worked together for many years. And Jerry had gone to the house to meet Bremer before it caught fire.’

Marklund looked through his papers. ‘But they’d quarrelled that day, hadn’t they?’

‘So Jerry says. He insists it was Bremer who cut him with the knife, if I’ve understood him correctly... but if Bremer was tied up and locked in, it must have been somebody else.’

‘Did you see anyone else?’

Per hesitated. Markus Lukas , he thought. Who else could it be?

‘I don’t know... I thought I saw someone running off into the trees at the edge of the forest, just after the fire had broken out. There’s a track, and tyre marks on the ground... I think.’ He hesitated again, but went on, ‘I got the idea that Bremer’s car had been parked in the forest and someone drove off in it once the house was on fire.’

‘Oh?’ Marklund looked at his notes again. ‘What makes you think Hans Bremer had a car?’