Going against all standard procedure, Sara did not report the gunshots to anyone. A particularly dim view was taken of attacks on the homes of police officers, and they were supposed to be reported in all circumstances. But Sara wanted to understand what was going on first. It was too big to become just another police case, or so she felt. But she realised her logic was poor.
But logic wasn’t everything. Especially not in this instance.
She phoned the Hägersten glaziers and explained the situation. The official version was that they needed bulletproof glass at home because they were due a visit from the global superstar, Uncle Scam – and there was a threat against him. This meant that absolute discretion and maximum urgency were key. No problem, they said, and they were on the scene within half an hour and started work to replace all the windows with Hammerglass. Sara left a note for Martin and Olle saying that the glazing was being replaced for Scam’s sake and coolly calculated that they would buy her excuse. But she decided to wait a little before getting out the filler and paint, instead leaving the moved painting as cover for the holes in the wall for the time being. She searched online for CCTV firms and sent a message to a company saying she wanted them to get in touch to arrange an installation at her home.
Then she called the City of Stockholm and was put through to the municipal game warden. No one had been at Slussen that morning and none of their vehicles had been stolen.
Finally, she went to work.
She told no one about the gunshots, not even Anna. Her friend was a police officer and would act like one, no matter what Sara said. And the gunshots were something she needed to get to the bottom of herself. Hedin was the only person she knew who knew anything about the world from which Sara was convinced the threats were emanating. Sara could tell her. Maybe . . .
Right now she had to focus on the job at hand. Her real job.
Sara surveyed the small team overseeing the Ekerö case. Her colleagues. Friends, she might almost have said. Even though the topic of conversation was grim murders, the morning meeting felt safe and familiar. Or perhaps it was because of that.
‘We’ve got a couple of new pieces of information that are of interest,’ said Bielke. ‘Jan-Olov Åkerman, the oldest victim, had recently appealed against planning permission given for an extension to his neighbour’s house and the appeal had been upheld. This reportedly led to aggressive confrontations. Perhaps Peter and Carro could look into this further?’
‘Torturing a neighbour to death because you can’t extend your pad? Right,’ said Peter with a wry smile. ‘We’ll look into it.’
‘Even more interesting is that the text message to Cesar Bekas was recovered by our forensics team from Abeba Idris’ mobile phone,’ said Bielke. ‘She had deleted it and the reply from Bekas.’
‘OK,’ said Anna. ‘So she has something to hide. No calls to another guy? Maybe she fell in love with someone else but didn’t dare break up?’
‘And instead she had him murdered?’ said Sara. ‘Is that what you do when you break up with someone?’
‘We’re all different.’
‘Remember that her parents are Christians,’ said Carro. ‘Maybe she knew they wouldn’t agree to her changing boyfriends? But with Bekas dead, she’s good to go.’
‘What exactly is your perception of Christians?’ Sara asked.
‘Pretty realistic, I reckon.’
‘Or not.’
‘I was raised in the Pentecostal Philadelphia Church right here in town. What about you?’
Sara didn’t answer.
‘No other erased text messages or calls?’
Bielke shook his head.
‘And no other calls that we can connect to gangs. But we obviously don’t know whether she has more phones – it’s not altogether uncommon in such circles. At any rate, we’ve got her under surveillance in case she meets anyone. She sneaked out of the house this morning and we thought something was going on because she kept looking around. But in the end she just went to the newsagents to buy a newspaper. Anyway, we’re keeping eyes on her.’
There was something at the back of Sara’s mind, but she couldn’t think what it was. Something about the mobile and text message. Annoying. She could tell it was an important reflection. She just couldn’t find it in her head even though she racked her brains.
‘We’re still working to build a full timeline of Bekas’s final hours,’ said Bielke, handing out folders with different assignments. ‘Where was he, who did he meet, what did they say? Talk to his homies, ask the staff at his usual haunts, people out and about. Which cars did he have access to, are there other mobile numbers we can connect to him? See whether you can get anyone in his gang to give you the numbers they had for him. After all, he’s dead now.’
Midi, Maxi and Efti’s old hit ‘Bad, bad boys’ screeched from Sara’s pocket. It was the song she had chosen as the ringtone for all her contacts in the world of crime. It was probably silly, but it tickled Sara.
She pulled her mobile out and saw that ‘Jojje’ was trying to reach her. Hardly awe-inspiring. But appearances could be deceptive. George Taylor Jr was, in spite of his cute nickname, the leader of his own gang – one of the most violent in the county. And it was he who had been shot by Cesar’s little brother and had probably ordered the subsequent revenge attack.
Sara stepped aside to answer.
‘What the fuck were you playing at, opening fire at a hamburger restaurant?’ was the first thing she said. She knew that everyone in Jojje’s gang had been questioned and declared themselves innocent and ignorant. But she also knew they were guilty, and she knew they knew she knew. ‘And next to a petrol station! What if a bullet had hit a fuel tank?’
‘Sweetheart, you know I’m innocent. That’s not what I’m calling about.’
‘I don’t give a fuck why you’re calling if it’s not to confess.’
‘Listen, I just want to help you out.’
‘By confessing. Come on, be a man. Take responsibility for your actions.’
‘I’m a man. Want me to show you?’
‘You’re a little boy.’
‘You’d like that, yeah?’
‘Come on, pull yourself together. What did you want?’
‘I know what they did with Bekas,’ he said, which made Sara pay attention. ‘He did a peepshow.’