One of the conditions to persuade the big artist to come to Stockholm had been the best hotel suite in town. Go Live had therefore booked the Princess Lilian Suite at the Grand Hôtel – three hundred and thirty square metres, including its own spa, dedicated cinema and two terraces overlooking Strömmen, at a nightly rate of ninety-five thousand kronor.
The American rapper hadn’t objected to being brought in for questioning, but had requested to come in his own cars – the caravan of vehicles worth millions that Martin’s company had organised for him while he was in the country. So behind a Lamborghini, a Ferrari and two Rolls-Royces was a Swedish police car containing two rather uncertain officers.
The convoy naturally had the effect of allowing all the fans staking out the hotel to see him leaving and to quickly track the cars down to the police station in Solna. They laid siege to it, awaiting what might be a final glimpse of the star before he left the country.
They thronged in the street outside the building and began to pour out onto Sundbybergsvägen too, making cars brake and honk. The police dispatched a couple of officers to direct traffic and prevent anyone being hit. At the same time, residents across the street began phoning in to complain about the racket.
A host of theories quickly spread as to what the small excursion was all about. Was Scam going to make a video with Swedish cops? Someone thought he liked to mock the pigs in every country he visited. One informed source on the Aftonbladet comments page declared that Scam’s entourage had had a consignment of narcotics seized; they thought he was going to be held accountable for that, or that he was there to ask for the drugs back. Sara guessed this voice belonged to one of Olle’s friends. There weren’t many other people who knew anything about the seized drugs.
It surprised her somewhat that the rapper had agreed to come to the station, but it also made it far simpler. There was no need to arrest him, and if they wanted to hold him after questioning then he was already in their hands.
Sara hoped against her better judgement that Scam would have an alternative explanation for the photo on the computer. That it was fake, or a montage, or that he had never seen Jenna, had just stopped by the peepshow and greeted the gangsters. Rappers liked the romanticism of gangsters – wasn’t that still the case? Or was Sara out of date? Above all, she hoped for Martin’s sake that Scam hadn’t participated in the peepshow. But also for her own. She wouldn’t want anyone who had done something that awful to have visited her own home. Wouldn’t want her kids to have been near to a man who had watched a woman be tortured to death.
‘Hi,’ said a voice, rousing Sara from her thoughts.
She looked up into an unfamiliar face.
‘Hi,’ she said absently, offering her hand. ‘Are you a friend of Scam’s?’
She hadn’t seen this guy before, but he did seem to fit into Scam’s posse. He was practically a copy of the rapper.
‘It is Uncle Scam,’ said Anna, who had come in with him. ‘I thought you’d met?’
‘This isn’t Uncle Scam,’ said Sara.
‘What? Yes it is. Even I recognise him.’
‘No, I’m telling you. Look!’ Sara pulled out her mobile and showed her the photo of the wallpaper. ‘This is Scam. Compare the tattoos. Look at the eyes. And the mouth.’
‘What the hell . . .?’ was all Anna managed to say.
‘He has a lookalike. To trick his fans.’ And then memory hit her. ‘For Christ’s sake, he’s at another hotel!’
‘Which one?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘What about him?’ said Anna, pointing to the fake Scam.
‘Where’s the real Scam staying?’
‘I’m the real Scam.’
‘No. Come on, tell us.’
The lookalike gave up at once. He probably thought he’d done his bit.
‘I wouldn’t know. Some hotel.’
‘Which?’
The doppelganger shrugged. Then he smiled.
‘So did you guys catch the show yesterday?’
‘What?’
‘Forget about him,’ said Sara, pulling out her phone. ‘Martin must know.’
It rang ten times. There was no answer. She sent a text to say she needed to reach him right away, but she didn’t dare pin her hopes on that.
‘Olle.’
She called her son. He wasn’t answering either.
‘Can you call Ebba?’ she said to Anna, showing her daughter’s number. ‘I don’t think she’ll answer if I call.’
‘Didn’t you want to talk?’ said the lookalike, as if the masquerade was still going on.
‘Shut up!’ Sara shouted. ‘And sit down!’
Scam 2 looked uncertain but took a seat.
‘Hi, this is Anna, your mother’s colleague. Sara needs to speak to you – it’s important. Please don’t hang up,’ Anna said, passing over her phone.
‘Hello, Olle’s not picking up when I call. I think he’s angry at me. And your father isn’t answering either. We need to know which hotel Scam is staying at. I don’t mean the Grand Hôtel, where he’s pretending to stay, but where he’s actually been staying. Call Olle and ask him if he knows. But don’t say that it’s me who wants to know. Say it’s you. Tell him you want to send flowers or something.’
Ebba muttered something indistinct before hanging up, and Sara could only hope for the best. The three minutes that elapsed before her daughter called back felt like an hour.
‘He’s at home,’ she said abruptly.
‘What do you mean at home? He’s already gone?’
‘No, at Home. You know, the luxury hotel in Lärkstan called Home. It’s super-exclusive. He’s booked out the hotel in order to be left alone, apparently. It’s at 2 Sköldungagatan.’
‘OK. Thanks Ebba!’
Her daughter hung up without replying.
‘OK, Lärkstan,’ said Sara, looking at Anna. She quickly pulled up the website for the hotel and found their phone number.
‘Hello, this is Sara Nowak from the Västerort police. We’ve got an important message for a guest staying with you – Cornelius Crane Jr. He is staying there, isn’t he?’
‘I’m afraid it’s our policy not to answer any questions about our guests.’
‘I’m calling from the police – didn’t you hear?’
‘Anyone could say that.’
‘Call the police then. Call the switchboard and ask for Sara Nowak in Solna and they’ll put you through.’
‘I’m afraid we still can’t answer any questions about our guests. It would be a violation of their privacy.’
‘But it’s important – it’s about a watch stolen during the gig at the Friends Arena. It’s a Rolex worth half a million kronor. We think we’ve found it, but he needs to identify it. Personally. He’ll be very angry with you if he doesn’t get the chance to do so. He might even sue.’
Those words did the trick. The girl on the line took a deep breath.
‘OK. I can’t say anything about who is staying at the hotel, but we only have one guest at present. Plus entourage.’
‘That’s him!’
‘And they’re about to check out.’
‘No!’
‘Yes. They’re due to fly home. They were meant to be staying another night, but there was a change of plan.’
‘Get him to stay there!’ Sara said, gesticulating to Anna to come with her.
‘We can’t do that.’
‘You have to. Tell him there’s something up with his passport or payment or something. Delay him by half an hour.’
‘That’s impossible. But it’ll probably take ten minutes before we’re done. I can let him know you called.’
‘No! Don’t say anything! We’re on the way!’