‘We now know a bit more about the bodies we fished out,’ said Axel Bielke, taping printed photos of the deceased to the whiteboard. ‘The girls are sex workers from Ghana and Romania respectively. Obviously we’re having trouble getting hold of their real names, but in Sweden they called themselves Lola and Angel. The men found with them in Mälaren were Swedish – Juha Kallio and Jan-Olov Åkerman. Kallio was an advertising executive at Sky Limit Group, while Åkerman was a pensioner and lived in the suburbs in Mälarhöjden. Both were single. According to his former colleagues, Kallio was a frequent patron of the city’s more elegant bars, and his consumption of both alcohol and so-called party drugs was reportedly high. He was living it up, with both a Ferrari F430 and a Bentley Bentayga in the garage, as well as a three-bed apartment in Östermalm with an eight-million-kronor mortgage secured against it. And his most recent tax return shows an annual income of seven hundred and forty-five thousand a year. Åkerman didn’t have any relatives so far as we know and is described by his neighbours as, and I’m quoting here, “a bit of a misery”, “a moron”, and “fucking Hitler”.’ Bielke surveyed the gathered detectives and paused before continuing. ‘Find the common denominator for this bunch. There’s a hundred kronor for whoever cracks it.’
‘Were the men customers of the girls?’ said burly Ergün.
‘Possibly. But it doesn’t explain why they were all tortured to death. And they died at different times. We’re talking about a period of around six months.’
‘Hardly drug dealers,’ said Anna.
‘No, “fucking Hitler” didn’t exactly look like some street pusher,’ said Sara. ‘More like a retired teacher.’
‘Assuming he didn’t start selling to the kids in the classroom?’ said Peter, who regarded himself as the funny one in the group.
‘Well, what does a teacher’s pension add up to?’ asked Peter’s sidekick Carro. ‘Maybe he needed to supplement his income?’
‘Come on people, focus,’ Bielke interjected. ‘Tell me more about what type of group this is. Åkerman was, for the record, a retired corporate lawyer.’
‘Perhaps they were killed at random?’ said Ergün. ‘Someone killing for pleasure?’
‘Serial killers don’t hire hitmen to dump the bodies. Is there a criminal connection?’
‘Might Åkerman have seen something he shouldn’t?’ said Anna. ‘Like the hunters at Ekerö. Except he didn’t have a rifle handy.’
‘Quite possibly. The other three seem easier to join together.’
‘I bet Kallio owed some drug lord a ton of cash.’
‘What about the girls?’
‘Threatened to go the police?’ said Ergün.
‘OK, at least we’ve got a few ideas,’ said Bielke, turning to the whiteboard and making notes. ‘We’ve also found a text message of interest on Cesar Bekas’s mobile phone. It’s from his girlfriend, Abeba Idris. She keeps it short and sweet: “At 8 behind the church?” and Bekas replies: “OK. Kisses.” Those are the final messages he sends and receives.’
‘Just before the murder?’
‘Were they going to pray together?’ said Peter. ‘Was Bekas born again?’
‘He had started going to church with the family, Abeba’s father said, but that wasn’t a secret.’
‘Behind the church, she said? Not in the church.’
‘OK, a meet-up. But behind which church? Theirs? Weren’t they members of some free church? The girl’s family, I mean.’
‘The Holy Church of the Divine Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus,’ said Anna. ‘But it’s in the city centre at Norra Bantorget in a regular building.’
‘OK, so another church then. Are there any churches nearby?’ Sara pulled out her mobile to check. ‘There’s one right by where the girlfriend lives. St Botvid’s Catholic church. And there are woods behind it, or so it appears.’
‘Then it was probably there. But why didn’t she say anything to us about it?’
‘Her parents were there,’ said Carro. ‘The girl probably didn’t want to mention she was meeting her gangster kingpin in secret. Didn’t you say they were Jehovah’s Witnesses?’
‘Dude, I said it was the Church of the Ascension,’ Anna said with a sigh.
‘What’s that?’ said Ergün. ‘I’ve never heard of it.’
‘All you have to do is Google. Ten million members around the world – mostly in South America and Africa. Around fifteen hundred members in Sweden. They focus on the sanctification of Jesus, I think they say. Very devout it seems.’
‘OK, but she must have deleted the message from her phone then?’ said Sara. ‘Did the girlfriend lure him into a trap?’
‘And was it conscious or unconscious?’
‘Unconscious?’ said Ergün. ‘How do you lure someone unconsciously?’
‘Well, if she really did agree to meet him, but that meant the hitmen could get to him.’
‘I suppose we’ll have to ask her.’
*
‘What were you and Cesar messaging about? On Friday at 20:34?’ Sara and Anna were once again seated on the sofa in the Idris family home. There were no biscuits this time, but Abeba appeared to have recovered a little.
‘I wasn’t. I was watching TV at that time.’
‘Can we see?’
‘The TV?’
‘Your mobile.’
‘Sure.’
‘I’ll get it,’ said her father, Ndeme. ‘Don’t get up.’ He stood up with great effort like all older fathers and left the room.
‘More tea?’ said Abeba, and her mother Rosa topped them up from the gold-rimmed teapot before they could reply.
‘Thank you,’ Sara managed to say.
The father returned with the mobile and handed it to his daughter. She pulled up her text message thread with Cesar and passed it to Sara. There was no message sent by Abeba on Friday evening.
Sara quickly checked the call log too, but saw nothing there from Friday night. Four numbers appeared more frequently, and there were a few numbers that appeared to be for companies or public bodies judging by the numbers. Lots of zeroes. Perhaps the daughter handled contact with the authorities on behalf of her parents. That wasn’t particularly unusual. However, a few of the calls were from earlier on during Friday. That might mean something.
‘We need to take this with us,’ said Sara.
Abeba looked up at her father, who nodded.
‘That’s fine,’ said Abeba.
‘What’s the PIN?’
‘There isn’t one.’
‘Was there anywhere you usually met?’
‘No. He came here.’
‘Not behind the church?’
‘No. Just here.’
‘He was so nice,’ said Rosa. ‘He always brought small gifts and flowers. For me, too.’
‘He was a good boy,’ Ndeme agreed.
‘OK, we’ll return the mobile to you when we’re done with it.’
Sara and Anna thanked them for the tea, got up and headed for the door. As they were heading down the front door steps, Abeba called out from behind them.
‘Wait!’
There was something harried about her voice that made Sara and Anna come to a halt. Sara realised that she even had her hand at her holster out of pure reflex. Abeba came running from inside the house with something in her hand.
‘The charger!’ she called out.
‘We’ve got those at the station,’ said Anna.
‘But take it anyway. Just to be sure,’ said Abeba. She came out to them and passed over the charger. As Sara took it, Abeba leaned forward and whispered:
‘We met at his too, but Mum and Dad don’t know that. I always tell them I’m with friends. Please don’t tell my parents!’
‘We promise.’
Abeba disappeared inside and Sara and Anna looked at each other.
‘OK, so apparently there are a few secrets here . . .’ said Anna.