ESTER LANDGREN’S MURDER had changed everything. Having felt numb to and almost blasé about the evil they were dealing with, they were now once again in the same boat. The other murders notwithstanding, the killer had now crossed a line that had left even Molander shaken.
The atmosphere was tense and subdued at the same time, and everyone except Klippan looked like they wanted to leave so they could start the investigation. But no one said anything. They just sat there with their heads bowed, anaesthetizing themselves with their phones while Klippan worked on making his laptop communicate with the overhead projector.
No one counted the minutes, but everyone knew it took far too long for the device to finally flicker to life and project Klippan’s wallpaper – a picture of his dog, Einstein, chasing a tennis ball – on the wall.
‘Finally,’ Klippan said, wiping sweat from his brow. ‘Let’s go.’
‘A quick question before you get started.’ Molander checked his watch. ‘How long is this going to take? Don’t get worked up. I’m not leaving. But we’ve been here a while already, and I just want to let the lads know since they’re waiting in the van.’
‘It’ll take as long as it takes. So I would suggest we stop wasting everyone’s time.’ Klippan flashed Molander a smile and turned to the others. ‘As you all know, Lennart Andersson was stabbed to death in broad daylight on Saturday 16 June while he was working behind the meat counter at Ica Maxi out in Hyllinge.’
‘Please, there’s no need to cover things we all know,’ Lilja said.
‘I need to do what I need to do. No more, no less. So for everyone’s sake, why don’t you just let me finish. And I promise I’ll tell you when I’m done. Okay?’ Klippan looked at each one of them in turn and was met by stony silence. ‘Great, then maybe we can move on.’ He downed the last of his now-cold coffee. ‘Where was I?’
‘Andersson was stabbed to death at the meat counter,’ Lilja said, rolling her eyes.
‘Right, and we’ve all seen the CCTV footage showing that event once or twice. So what I’ve done is, I’ve gone through all the tapes from a week before, up until the murder itself. I’ve edited together a number of sequences showing people I feel are behaving suspiciously. But since we’re short on time, I’m happy to go straight to my main suspect.’
It took Fabian a second to realize where the vibration in his pocket was coming from, since his iPhone was sitting on the table in front of him. It was his old Nokia.
Klippan scrolled down to the file labelled Friday 15 June 2012 and started a video clip that showed a short man sauntering in through the entrance to Ica Maxi, from the simultaneous perspective of several CCTV cameras. He was wearing ragged jeans, dirty white trainers, a maroon zip-up hoodie with an Adidas logo and a baseball cap from Biltema pulled down over his eyes.
While Molander and the others watched as the man picked up a basket and moved further into the supermarket, Fabian pulled out the Nokia under the table and opened the text, which turned out to be from Gertrud Molander.
‘And what’s so suspicious about him?’ Tuvesson said, and instantly found herself on the receiving end of a glare from Klippan. ‘Seriously, what’s the matter with you? We have to be able to ask questions and discuss things. Otherwise this is completely pointless.’
‘I was under the impression we were in a hurry. But all right, far be it from me to be difficult. Let me explain.’
Hej Hjalmar! Thank you for remembering my birthday and I’m sorry for not getting back to you sooner. It would have been nice to meet for a cup of coffee and a catch-up. Do let me know the next time you’re braving the big city ;)
Gertrud
‘What first stood out to me was the way he moves through the shop,’ Klippan said.
‘What about it?’ Lilja studied the man, who was walking through the kitchen utensil aisle. ‘It looks normal to me.’
Was it an invitation or a no, thank you? Fabian didn’t know how to interpret Gertrud’s message, but still typed out a short reply under the table.
I’m actually going back to Helsingborg today, too, and I would be happy to renew the invitation for this afternoon instead. How does that sound?
‘I would say virtually every aspect of it,’ Klippan told Lilja. ‘Just look at the way he moves through the aisles. Then compare it to what other people do, and you’ll see that it’s completely unnatural.’
Thanks, but I’m afraid I’ve come down with a proper summer cold and I’m in bed with a fever, so I’ll have to take a rain check. But let’s talk again soon.
Gertrud was at the house. So he could pop over and try to persuade her to testify and offer her a hotel room until all of this was over.
‘Note the way he keeps his face hidden by continually looking down and turning his back,’ Klippan went on, as the video showed the man standing by the Tex-Mex aisle with his back to the camera. ‘See? It doesn’t matter where the camera is.’
‘Klippan, I think we get your point,’ Molander said. ‘Or what do you say, Fabian?’
‘Absolutely. I have no questions.’ He allowed himself a smile as he pushed the Nokia back into his pocket.
‘You don’t? That’s odd,’ Tuvesson said, ‘because I certainly do. Like, for instance, what makes you so sure this is our guy?’
‘I said I suspect it. Not that I’m sure,’ Klippan retorted. ‘But the fact is that everything about him is suspicious. Just look at this.’
The man on the screen walked over to the pickled herring fridge.
‘He’s just been down the Tex-Mex aisle to pick up taco shells and guacamole. I don’t know what you like in your tacos, but I doubt it’s pickled herring.’
‘What’s to say those things are for the same meal?’ Lilja objected. ‘The tacos might be for that night and the herring for—’
‘The thing is, he doesn’t actually buy anything,’ Klippan cut in. ‘There’s no direction to his movements and no plan for what he puts in his basket. In a while, he’s going to take vegetarian patties out of a freezer, only to then pick up a pound of mince.’
‘Maybe his girlfriend’s a vegetarian.’
‘Maybe. But how do you explain that he’s already been to the fruit and veg section, where he picked up super-expensive organic tomatoes, but later on, he’s going to go back there and grab a regular, pesticide-infused cucumber even though the organic cucumbers were only two kronor more?’
‘Fine.’ Tuvesson nodded. ‘So he’s not there to shop.’
‘If he is our perpetrator, he might be scoping the place out,’ Fabian put in to try to make it look like he was participating.
‘That’s what I assumed,’ Klippan said. ‘But if that were the case, he should be looking for the cameras, and during the twenty-two minutes he spends in the shop, he doesn’t look up once. He also never pulls out his phone to take pictures or pays any attention to the escape route behind the meat counter that he ended up using.’
‘So what is he doing?’ said Lilja, who was starting to look impatient.
‘Thanks for asking. That’s exactly what I’ve been pondering. And after studying this sequence I don’t know how many times, I’ve concluded that he’s searching.’
‘What do you mean, searching? For what?’ said Tuvesson.
‘We’ll get to that.’ Klippan held up his hand to stop any further interruptions. ‘But first I want to ask if any of you noticed that a while back, he stood over by the new potatoes staring at another customer? An older lady dressed all in blue, who was manhandling every last mango in the shop.’
‘Yes, I saw her,’ Lilja said. ‘Even her glasses were blue. But I didn’t notice what the guy was doing.’
‘But I did, and right now, he’s doing the same thing again.’ Klippan pointed at the wall where their suspect was standing by the herring fridge, watching a man who was hurrying away from a mountain of strawberries towards the meat counter.
‘And what is that?’ Tuvesson said. ‘Other than staring at people.’
‘Like I said, I think he’s searching.’
‘Right, you did say. The question is what he—’
‘His victim,’ Klippan said, cutting her off. ‘He’s searching for his next victim.’
The mood changed instantly. None of them spoke and the silence was almost palpable as Fabian and the others recalled what they’d seen and tried to digest the realization that Klippan’s theory might have merit.
‘But hold on,’ Tuvesson said at length. ‘Why would he be searching for a victim?’
‘Fine, maybe selecting is a better word.’
‘Searching or selecting.’ Tuvesson shrugged. ‘Lennart Andersson is over by the meat counter. All you have to do to find him is go over there.’
‘My point is that he doesn’t seem aware of that at this time. I think he simply hadn’t decided yet who it was going to be.’ Klippan extracted the last few drops of coffee from the urn. ‘Besides, Lennart’s shift doesn’t start for another three and a half minutes. But watch this.’ He nodded at the video, where the man was still hovering next to the herring. ‘At first, I thought he was choosing among the different flavours. But he’s not. He’s not even looking at the fish, he’s watching the man in the white shorts and boat shoes standing over there with his son.’
‘Hold on, isn’t that Eric Jacobsén?’ Tuvesson turned to Fabian, who nodded.
It certainly was Eric Jacobsén and his son, Rutger, apparently oblivious to the fact that they were in danger of becoming the killer’s next victims. Their paths had, in other words, crossed both here and in relation to Molly Wessman.
‘If it’s true what you say, that he’s there to select a victim,’ Tuvesson said, ‘then what makes him finally settle on Lennart Andersson at the meat counter and not someone else?’
‘That’s a good question. And I honestly haven’t the faintest idea. For all I know, he just goes for whoever happens to bother him.’
‘I’d wager he has a plan for how the murder itself is supposed to go,’ Molander said as the suspect pulled something out of his right pocket. Something that flashed before he closed his hand around it. ‘And what he’s doing here is walking around, looking for the most suitable victim.’
‘Then shouldn’t he be looking by the meat counter instead of all over the shop?’ Tuvesson said.
‘Or maybe he’s just looking for a person who’s as different as possible from the other victims,’ Klippan suggested.
Tuvesson nodded. ‘Fabian, what do you reckon?’
Fabian stopped pondering what it was the suspect had pulled out of his pocket and was turning to Tuvesson when Lilja cut in.
‘I’m sorry, but are you seeing what I’m seeing?’ She pointed to the suspect, whose right arm was moving slightly back and forth. ‘It almost looks like he’s… playing pocket ping-pong.’
‘Sadly for him, that’s not it,’ Klippan said. ‘My best guess is that it’s some kind of tic to keep calm. He actually does the same thing several times, and at other times his hand is clearly not inside his trousers.’
‘So, Klippan, I just want to make sure I’m getting this right,’ said Tuvesson. ‘You’re telling us he’s walking around selecting his victim completely at random.’
‘Yes, unfortunately, it looks that way.’ Klippan turned to Fabian. ‘And isn’t that exactly what you were talking about? That there might not be a motive?’
Fabian nodded, even though it sounded strange to his ears, too. But he couldn’t see any other explanation.
‘I just don’t understand why a person would run around killing strangers for no reason,’ Tuvesson said.
‘Maybe because he thinks it’s fun and gets a kick out of it. At least, that’s what you said.’ Fabian turned to Molander.
‘Me? No, when would I have said that?’ Molander shook his head.
‘Okay, but the selection has to be based on something,’ said Tuvesson. ‘Whether or not there’s a motive. I mean, it can’t be pure chance.’
‘Except. Why can’t it be?’ Molander said.
‘Because something apparently makes him pick one victim over another, and if we can figure out why, we might even be able to predict who’s next. Or what do you think, Fabian? You’re unusually quiet today.’
‘I am?’ Fabian said, his thoughts once again firmly on what the suspect was holding in his hand in the video. Could that be the key?
‘And you, too.’ Tuvesson turned to Lilja, who was sitting with her mouth open, staring into space. ‘You haven’t said anything in a while, either.’ She leaned forward and waved a hand in front of Lilja’s face. ‘Hello, I’m talking to you.’
Lilja reacted, but when she spoke it was to Klippan, not Tuvesson. ‘Could you play the video again?’
‘Sure. All the way from the start, or—?’
‘No, from when he’s standing over by the herring and turns to that man with the beard.’
‘Absolutely. No problem.’ Klippan dragged the time marker back and the video played from just before the suspect looked over his shoulder at the man behind him.
‘Pause it and zoom in on his face.’
‘Irene, I know what you’re getting at. But it’s pointless. I already tried.’ He leaned closer to his open laptop and zoomed in on the suspect’s face, which was half-hidden under the visor of his baseball cap. ‘Granted, we get a glimpse of part of his face, which, if I had to guess, I’d say is Asian, but other than that—’
‘It’s him.’ Lilja stood up. ‘It’s him. I recognize him.’
‘Who?’ Tuvesson said. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I interviewed that guy in my office a week and a half ago.’