BÖRGE SVENSON AND HIS lawyer, Ingmar Tallén sat in the interrogation room. Tallén was not in the best of moods. The hearing had been a fiasco. He felt crushed, a complete failure.
Tallén had demanded that his client be released immediately. He was convinced that Svenson was completely innocent and that Ingrid Svenson’s real murderer was still out there. He was well aware that the circumstances leading up to his client’s arrest were incriminating, to say the least, but he believed that Svenson’s social standing and unblemished record should be taken into consideration. A travel ban would have sufficed. At worst he should have been released on bail.
During the hearing the prosecutor presented photographs of the bloody shirt that Svenson was wearing when he was discovered in the woods on the day of the murder. According to the suspect, the blood had ended up on his clothes when, after finding his wife lying on the floor, he had lifted her up and cradled her in his arms. These images, however, were clear evidence that this just didn’t add up. The splashes of blood left a pattern that would typically occur during an assault. In addition, Svenson’s behaviour had been peculiar. Instead of calling for an ambulance and contacting the police – the normal reaction of an innocent person in the same situation – he had gone into the woods.
The prosecutor believed that Börge Svenson should be arrested and cited probable cause.
During the defence lawyer’s argument, the prosecutor haughtily reminded Tallén, that they were in the middle of a detention hearing, not a murder trial.
Tallén was irritated at himself and demanded more details despite the fact that he knew full well this information would be revealed during the trial.
He had used all the resources available to him, urging the judge to impose a travel ban instead of placing Svenson under arrest. He had reminded the judge of the arrest rules described in chapter 25 paragraph 1987:1211. He also pointed out that Börge Svenson had no intention of fleeing the country or going underground.
The court wasn’t impressed by Tallén’s argument. They ruled that the suspect should be placed under arrest and charges brought within one month.
Harald Svenson was swift to react. His ostensibly charming and accommodating façade cracked as he bluntly revealed his dissatisfaction to Tallén.
THE TWO OF THEM SAT in the waiting room.
Börge Svenson had a hunch that this would be an arduous interrogation. Despite his well-rehearsed tough façade his glistening dark blue eyes betrayed an underlying sense of despondency and self-doubt.
The judge granted the defence lawyer’s request that his client be excused from wearing the prison uniform.
Svenson was dressed in an exclusive Armani suit with a white shirt and red silk tie that he had probably carefully selected. He was undeniably a man of refined elegance who exuded an aura of self-entitlement.
“Don’t forget the rules,” said Ingmar Tallén to his client.
Börge Svenson sneered. He was resentful at being treated like a child. In the short time they had been acquainted Tallén had repeated the same instructions countless times: “Please limit your statements. Be consistent. Don’t change your story.”
Ingmar Tallén was about ten years older than Svenson. He had a slight build and next to his client he appeared shrunken and inconsequential. Despite this he cut a commanding figure, determined and self-assured.
Tallén had been disappointed to learn that the prosecutor was a man, so news that the interrogating officer was female lifted his spirits. He knew that Svenson was popular with the opposite sex.
A simple rectangular table stood in the centre of the sparsely furnished interview room. Around the table stood four chairs arranged in pairs on opposite sides. Tallén and Svenson sat on the side closest to the door. In the left hand corner stood another chair, upon which a police constable was already seated.
On the table was a recording device, a notepad as well as the standard water jug and plastic cups. The weak ceiling light cast a shadow across Börge Svenson’s face accentuating his tired features.
Inspectors Johansson and Karlsson entered the room. Kalle adjusted the dimmer so that the ceiling light shone at full strength. Svenson got up hastily and stretched out his hand in greeting.
“Inspector Sanna Johansson.”
Svenson couldn’t take his eyes off her. He was dumbstruck, hypnotized by the intensity of her dark eyes. His gaze wandered downwards to her shapely breasts, concealed under a white blouse, and her tiny midriff. He imagined the curve of her body under the perfectly pressed suit.
Kalle was also intrigued by Sanna’s smart new look. He had never seen this side of her before.
Svenson could feel a strange heat rising up through his body. His carefully prepared mental strategy for dealing with the interrogation was suddenly wiped out.
“Börge Svenson,” he answered without moving his eyes from hers.
Sanna looked at him with indifference.
Kalle, who had noticed Svenson’s interest in Sanna, cleared his throat.
“Inspector Kalle Karlsson,” he said extending his hand towards Svenson, who turned to look at him and shook his hand without a word.
“The prosecutor rang this morning to apologize for his absence. He’s in bed with a high temperature waiting for the doctor,” said Sanna to Tallén.
“As you probably already know, I am the officer in charge of the investigation. The prosecutor will attend sporadically but will be here when necessary.”
Tallén listened and digested her words. He knew this was standard procedure but still wanted to give it some thought. It was possible that the prosecutor’s absence could play to his advantage.
“Do you have any questions before we get started?”
The two men shook their heads.
“Then let’s begin,” said Sanna. She turned on the recorder and moved it across the table closer to Svenson.
“Interview with Börge Svenson of 117 Skogsvägen, Djursholm. Present is Ingmar Tallén, lawyer for the defence. The interview is being held by the Stockholm Police Force on Thursday 30th June and conducted by Inspector Sanna Johansson assisted by Inspector Karlsson.” She glanced at the clock on her mobile. “The time is 9.30.”
Börge Svenson, who by now had regained his composure, was eager to get started. First and foremost it was important to be agreeable and present his most charming side.
The parties sat opposite each other. Nobody said a word.
Sanna stared deep into Börge Svenson’s eyes. She was analysing him and preferred not to ask any questions until the accused began talking.
Svenson thought he heard the lawyer say, “answer the questions and nothing else.” But the silence made him uneasy. He was a verbal person. You couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks.
Svenson talked about his family, the love he felt for his wife and son. He described what a wonderful mother Ingrid was and how Viktor was the most perfect son anyone could wish for.
Sanna listened impassively, but began to feel more and more irritated. “Is he trying to prove that he’s an exemplary father? Or is he faking amnesia?” she pondered. Svenson’s exaggerated pleasantries and contrived innocence were getting on her nerves.
The two inspectors sat there with deadpan expressions.
Tallén interrupted. “My client is innocent and should be released immediately. You’re both wasting time and taxpayer’s money. While we’re sitting here the murderer is on the loose laughing at you,” he grinned sarcastically.
Sanna continued staring at Svenson and didn’t bother to acknowledge Tallen’s outburst.
“All families have their issues,” continued Svenson, with the hint of a smile. “But in the main we’re happy,” he assured them. He stared at Sanna as he spoke, as if they were alone in the room. “I know I’m not an angel, but I swear that my wife was already dead when I got home.”
His eyes watered.
Sanna shifted in her chair.
Kalle watched Svenson closely, slightly vexed by the way he was being ignored. He felt superfluous, left out. The same way he had felt during the interview with Melkerson. Now it was his turn to be in the shadows. For the first time he understood how Sanna must have felt. It was a disconcerting sensation.
Kalle tried to figure out Svenson’s strategy. The man was definitely flirting with Sanna. But why? Did he really think Sanna would be interested in him? He smiled to himself.
Tallén cleared his throat and glared despairingly at Svenson, who was behaving exactly how he had been instructed not to. Obviously he was deliberately ignoring his recommendations.
Börge Svenson was acting like someone who needed to get things off his chest. For some reason he wanted to convince the police that he had a happy marriage and in particular what a good and caring husband and father he was.
Sanna’s patience was running out. She had listened for long enough. She had been hoping the interrogation would take another direction but, by letting him talk, at least she had learnt a little about the man.
“Yes, Mr. Svenson, I have to admit I’m very confused. Tell me, how does a man like you who purports to love his family so much commit an act this brutal?” She slammed a pile of photographs onto the table. “How could you treat your “adored” wife like this?” Sanna pointed to the grisly images of Ingrid Svenson’s bloodied, lacerated face scattered across the table. “Help me here. You’re pathetic!” she shouted. “I know your type. I’ve seen disgusting behaviour like this before but then it didn’t end up in this this type of murder.”
Tallén didn’t have time to react. It all happened so fast. He was dumbstruck. The inspector’s attack was completely unexpected, like lightening in a clear sky.
Svenson had a strange expression on his face. He sat in his chair, confused.
The atmosphere in the room changed radically.
Tallén turned red with fury. He tore off his glasses and glowered at the inspector.
“Your colleague seems to be convinced that my client murdered his wife,” he said accusingly.
“It’s remarkable that the inspector hasn’t informed my client of the charges against him,” Tallén continued, turning to look at Svenson who was sitting beside him speechless. “Börge Svenson has repeatedly said that his wife was already dead when he got home!”
He glanced at Sanna threateningly.
“How could you have missed such a crucial detail?”
He leaned back in his chair.
“Yes – so he alleges,” she answered stiffly, brushing the dust away from her sleeve. “It is quite remarkable, don’t you think?”
Tallén attempted a response but Sanna took no notice.
“We’ve heard Mr. Svenson’s version of events. He’s been speaking for almost 45 minutes and to the best of my recollection he hasn’t once tried to explain why he left the house and headed to the woods.”
Tallén lifted his finger to indicate he had something to say, but Sanna looked at him stony faced. She had no intention of giving him a chance to interrupt.
“The only thing we’ve heard is how much Svenson loves his wife,” she added. “He obviously wants to reassure us that he was an exemplary husband!” She paused to study Svenson’s reaction. He was nodding in agreement with every word she said. “I’m curious as to why a loving man like Mr. Svenson didn’t bother to call either an ambulance or the police when he realized that his beloved wife had been murdered.”
Both men on the other side of the table were silent. They looked at each other with uncertainty.
“Why hide in the woods if you’re so innocent? And above all, why didn’t you do everything in your power to save your wife?”
Börge Svenson took a deep breath.
“Surely the Inspector understands that in certain situations people react in the most unexpected ways. My client has already told you that he was trying to catch the man who had murdered his wife,” responded Tallén, visibly agitated.
“He left the house. He didn’t run after him or shout for help. He walked calmly into the woods. We have a number of witnesses who can back that up,” said Sanna.
“I repeat! Under those circumstances anybody would become disorientated and act out of character,” countered Tallén.
IT WAS NO SECRET to the inspectors that Ingrid Svenson and her son had endured a living hell. During the search of the crime scene they had discovered Ingrid’s journal.
The journal was where she entrusted her innermost thoughts. It testified to the physical and psychological abuse that had tarnished their entire marriage. Unfortunately, the last entry was dated 20th December last year. In it she describes her desperation:
“… the only way out of this hell is to kill ourselves. Viktor and I can’t continue to live like this. This isn’t a life, we can’t go on any more…”
There were fragments in the diary that Sanna had marked with post-it notes so that she could refer to it during the interrogation, and possibly the trial as well.
Ingrid had contemplated suicide a number of times. The only thing that stopped her was Viktor. She couldn’t leave the one person who gave her life meaning.
In several of her diary entries she admitted how frightened and lonely she was. It was unthinkable that she would entrust her private thoughts to anyone else. She couldn’t even talk to her mother or best friend, Miriam Asplund, whom she had known for many years, about the shameful things that had happened to her. The terror that was unleashed in the comfort of her own home remained a secret between her and the diary.
Ingrid Svenson couldn’t summon up the will power to leave her husband. He was always full of remorse. After abusing her he would take her in his arms and repeat again and again how much he loved her and how life without her was unimaginable.
Sanna looked intently at Svenson, who had finally taken his eyes off her and was now staring at the wall, writhing uncomfortably in his chair. He ran his fingers through his short blond hair.
He turned expectantly to Tallén, but the lawyer paid no attention to him. He was furious. Svenson had completely ignored his explicit instructions to only speak in response to direct questions.
“Aren’t you going to look at the photographs?” asked Sanna in the same sarcastic but controlled tone of voice she had been using for the last 15 minutes. It had felt like an eternity to Börge Svenson.
“Maybe you have a fresher and more vivid image in your head and don’t need to look at our pathetic photographs?”
Kalle watched Sanna closely. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her behave quite so aggressively when questioning suspects, even though she had always been a tough interrogator.
Tallén finally reacted. He protested. Loudly.
“That’s enough! My client is innocent and I will not tolerate the tone the inspector is using here.”
Svenson moved uneasily in his chair. He glared at Sanna but quickly looked away again.
“You’re harassing me,” he said indignantly.
Sanna was unmoved by the lawyer’s objections and carried on speaking.
“Oh, I’m harassing you am I? Well, I’m so sorry – maybe you should report me to the police!” she said.
Sanna was trying to provoke him, ridicule him. The best way to get an arrogant man like Börge Svenson to admit his mistakes was through provocation. She wanted him to feel humiliated. That usually worked.
Power hungry men didn’t like to accept defeat – especially not at the hands of a woman.
Sanna was convinced that sooner or later the real Börge Svenson would turn up. He would lose his temper and reveal what actually happened on the day of the murder.
“Maybe I will,” he answered with exaggerated irony. He had a strange expression on his face. He narrowed his eyes and looked at Sanna threateningly.
For the first time Sanna could see the darkness hidden behind his innocent eyes.
The sly fox had caught him off guard – she had seen right through him.
How much did she really know? He was tortured with anxiety. It was an uncomfortable feeling. He didn’t know what to expect.
“While you’re harassing me the murderer is still out there somewhere. The man who killed my wife. I can’t for the life of me understand why you keep insisting that I murdered her,” he continued indignantly.
“Who do you mean? Who murdered her?”
“My client has already answered that question. He doesn’t know who broke into the house and killed his wife. She was already dead when he got home! One thing is definite, Börge Svenson is innocent of everything he is accused of!”
Sanna stared at Tallén long and hard. She knew how he had reacted when the preliminary forensic report was presented. Nevertheless, he had the audacity to sit here and claim the opposite.
She turned her attention to Börge Svenson and studied him carefully.
He looked tired. His face was flushed and a layer of sweat glistened on his upper lip. He brushed his fringe aside and looked at her with an expression of resignation.
“I don’t think you understand…”
“There’s a lot I don’t understand – tell me,” answered Sanna, more gently this time. She poured water into four plastic cups and passed one to each of the participants around the table. She drank hers in one gulp. After refilling her cup she leaned back in the chair and looked at Svenson dispassionately.
“I just want things to be okay,” he continued. “Most of all, I love my family.” He paused and stroked his face with his right hand. He picked up the cup and took a sip of water. He looked thoughtful. He placed the cup back onto the table. “Ingrid can be difficult at times,” he admitted dispassionately.
Tallén tried to catch his attention but Svenson was preoccupied with his own thoughts. The lawyer was afraid that his client was about to reveal information he was not yet privy to.
“That’s enough! Let’s stop now. We’ve been here for more than three hours and I would like to talk to my client.” Tallén got up and gestured imperiously to Svenson.
Svenson sat there despondently with his finger bowed to his lips.
“You said that Ingrid could be difficult,” coaxed Sanna.
The air had been sucked out of him. His world was reduced to this tiny room where there were just the two of them. Hers was the only voice he could hear.
“Tell me – I want to know.” Her words echoed inside his head.
Just as Svenson was about to respond, Tallén, fearing the worst, grabbed his shoulder.
Börge rose from his chair with robotic movements and followed Tallén out of the room like a child who has been reprimanded by his teacher.
IT WAS ALMOST FIVE THIRTY when Kalle rang Lorena Pascalini’s mobile. Once again he was directed to the voice mail service. He dialled another number.
“The Evening Post.”
“This is Kalle Karlsson from The National Bureau of Investigation. I’m trying to get hold of Lorena Pascalini but she never answers her mobile or e-mail…”
“I see. She’s on sick leave,” answered the man dryly.
“Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“No, sorry. As far as I understand she’ll be gone indefinitely.”
“What do you mean? I need to talk to her as a matter of urgency!”
“I have to go to a meeting now, but I can connect you to the head of department.”
Kalle waited while the call was redirected.
“Aron Busch,” said a gruff voice at the other end of the line.
Kalle filled him in. But although they talked at length, he didn’t receive satisfactory answers to his questions. Busch’s attitude was dismissive. He repeatedly assured him that they didn’t have any more photographs. Apparently, Pascalini had insisted that her photographer delete all the images from 117 Skogsvägen threatening severe consequences otherwise. The only thing Busch knew for certain was that Pascalini had experienced a sudden nervous breakdown and nobody knew how long it would take for her to recover and return to work.
THE STAFF CANTEEN WAS CROWDED with hungry employees. It was twelve o’clock. Apparently, everyone at the police station on Kungsholmen had decided to eat lunch at the same time.
Sanna and Kalle were sharing a table with their colleagues, Javier Mendez and Allan Jonsson, who had almost finished eating. They were discussing an on-going murder inquiry. Although it wasn’t actually a discussion. While Allan was proclaiming his views vociferously Javier listened quietly.
Allan Jonsson, who had grown up in Karlstad, was rather new to his position as a criminal inspector in the Stockholm Police department. He had long dreamed of a career as a criminal inspector, and his enthusiasm for the job was obvious, especially since this was his first murder investigation in his new position.
Within the police force there were significant regional differences in customs and culture. It was like the collision of contrasting worlds. Allan Jonsson spoke openly about his job during breaks, a habit that didn’t often occur in Stockholm.
Javier Mendez had previously worked with Sanna and Kalle, but now he had found his feet he was handling his own investigations.
“He lived a double life, quite simply,” said Allan enthusiastically. Javier was only half listening. He was a touch irritated because he didn’t like discussing his activities during breaks; moreover, it was against the rules.
“I don’t know,” answered Javier impatiently, wishing that he would stop talking. But Allan didn’t seem to care about rules or restrictions. In Karlstad there were no secrets among colleagues. It was neither strange nor unusual to discuss work during breaks. Often, during these conversations new angles were bandied about, which might not have been discussed at investigation team meetings.
“He was gay,” continued Allan Jonsson.
“You seem pretty sure of that,” replied Javier.
“Yup, it’s not hard to work that out when you consider the state he was found in. He was raped and murdered by another gay man, obviously.”
Javier looked at Allan and narrowed his eyes. This was not the right place to discuss the issue.
Sanna and Kalle listened in silence. Sanna showed no enthusiasm for the subject, but Kalle’s interest had been piqued and he couldn’t contain himself any longer.
“What murder are you talking about?”
“It’s a case we’re working on but we don’t know much so far,” answered Javier without lifting his eyes from his plate.
Allan cast a curious eye at Kalle. Finally someone was showing interest, or rather curiosity, and he welcomed the opportunity to put across his point of view. He liked to discuss cases and get new ideas from savvy officers in the department. Or perhaps he was simply the talkative type.
He leaned closer to Kalle and looked at him intensely.
“The victim was lying on his right side in the bed. His feet were tied together and his hands were bound behind him with a black leather strap,” sneered Allan, straightening his fringe. “My theory is that he had either been having anal sex or somebody forced a hard object into his anus. I’ll bet you anything it was a gay murder. I heard they like violent sex and that it’s not unusual for gays to have sadistic sex toys – if one can call them that these days.”
He grinned with a glint in his eyes.
“You think you know a lot about the sexual habits of homosexuals but your reasoning is flawed. This type of murder can even occur among heterosexual couples,” objected Kalle.
In his opinion, Allan was a little too quick to jump to conclusions. He also sounded more than a little homophobic.
“As you must know, during an investigation, we have to explore different avenues of enquiry before speaking out with any kind of certainty about what could have happened,” continued Kalle.
Allan looked at him sceptically.
“Sometimes, an investigator can jump to conclusions and believe they have an open and shut case, when in fact they have completely misinterpreted the information…” added Kalle. “Have you considered the possibility that this could be a hate crime?”
Allan Jonsson rolled his large blue eyes sceptically. What on earth did hate crime have to do with this case? That was the kind of thing you saw on the street with fistfights and the like. It was the last thing he would have thought of.
“That sounds highly unlikely,” answered Allan in a patronizing tone of voice as he leaned back in his chair. “I don’t think someone would rape a person of the same sex if they hated gays.”
“Why are you so sure the murderer is a man?”
“Well, it can hardly be a woman!”
“Do you have any evidence?”
“No I don’t,” he answered. He was starting to become uneasy. He didn’t like the way the conversation was going and decided to change track and started talking about other non-work-related subjects.
KALLE NEEDED A CUP OF COFFEE so after lunch he went to the automatic machine to get a café latte with sugar and a cup of black coffee. Then he headed for Sanna’s office.
She sat with her back to the door and her legs stretched out on the desk. She recognized Kalle’s quick, determined footsteps as they approached her room and turned around as he entered.
“Latte?”
“Sure, sounds good.”
Sanna greeted Kalle with a smile. She was exhausted and her head felt heavy. She welcomed the chance to have a friendly chat.
“A strange case,” said Kalle.
“Do you mean Javier’s investigation?”
“Yes, it sounds like a sadistic murder…”
“I was thinking about it. I remember I worked on a similar case two year ago, when I was involved in a murder investigation in Gothenburg.”
“Right, you mean the time you were incommunicado?” said Kalle with a glint in his eyes.
Sanna smiled and nodded.
“Yes, there were strict rules that we couldn’t discuss the case with anyone except the investigative team.”
“Right. Is that why you were so quiet during lunch today?”
“Yes, probably. Plus it didn’t seem as if Javier appreciated Allan talking so loudly.”
“That’s true. I probably shouldn’t have questioned him, but I was curious and really wanted to know what he was talking about. Since Javier has been in charge of his own investigations he doesn’t talk that much to us.”
“Hmm,” said Sanna pensively. “We don’t talk with him much about ours either…”
“Ok, I give up,” said Kalle, waving his hands in the air with a jovial smile.
Sanna looked with amusement at Kalle who was slowly sipping his coffee. She had finished hers ages ago.
“Sometimes it’s good to chat with colleagues about similar cases. A typical example is the Gothenburg murder case. There could be certain similarities.” she smiled. “I mean, the discoveries we made then might be helpful in Javier’s investigation.”
“You mean Javier’s and Allan’s,” said Kalle.
She nodded; in fact, she wasn’t at all pleased that Allan Jonsson was working on a murder investigation of this type. He seemed to have absolutely no idea of the problems that could arise through being so open. What if Allan spoke about his job to people who didn’t even work at the NBI? Moreover, she loathed people like Allan Jonsson who spoke in that condescending manner. He was definitely homophobic – and there were already more than enough homophobic officers in the police force.
“Are you going to tell them about the Gothenburg case?”
“Probably. But I think I’ll raise it with Javier first. He can decide if he wants to talk to Allan or not.” She looked at him for a moment. “You’re welcome to join us.”
Kalle’s eyes brightened. He remembered being very curious about the investigation at the time but Sanna had refused to disclose any information.
Sanna Johansson was very rule conscious and believed that all regulations should be followed to the letter. They were there for a reason and people shouldn’t risk violating them because, in the worst-case scenario, these transgressions could result in catastrophic situations that would be very difficult to set right.
“I can send him an e-mail and see how he responds. Let’s see if he’s open to being given a few leads. You’ll hear from me if anything happens.”
Kalle left the room feeling as if he had just received a long awaiting gift from Sanna. Finally he would learn more about the secret investigation.