Linda, As in the Linda Murder

36

The same morning that the cultural argument was raging in the pages of the Småland Post, the CP group had emailed their analysis of the murder of Linda Wallin, with a profile of the perpetrator. And the head of the group, Detective Superintendent Per Jönsson, had announced that he and one of his colleagues would be arriving in Växjö just after lunch the following day in order to discuss their findings in person with the members of the investigating team.

Bäckström spent Wednesday morning reading through the twenty-page report, groaning and sighing in turn. But as far as the actual crime itself was concerned, they did seem to have worked out what every intelligent police officer could work out for himself, Bäckström thought.

That the perpetrator hadn’t broken into the flat by force, that he already knew the victim, that intercourse appeared to have been initiated in a relatively straightforward way, particularly considering what happened later. That it started with the victim and the perpetrator having sex on the sofa in the living room, without any indication that it was forced intercourse on the part of the victim. Then they had moved into the bedroom, where the level of both violence and sexual activity had escalated rapidly, that the perpetrator had strangled her during or after the final anal assault, that he had gone into the shower, masturbated and washed himself off, and finally left the crime scene through the bedroom window.

After that it was time for the usual reservations that no murder detective worthy of the title had any use for, except for saving them up for nightmares. Such as the fact that it couldn’t be ruled out that Linda might have forgotten to lock the door, or that the perpetrator had snuck into the flat or tricked her into letting him in. That he might have used force from the start by holding a knife to her throat — for instance, the knife that had been found at the crime scene — and had forced her to take off her jewellery, watch and clothes, and used threats to get her to take part in various sexual activities, from the sofa in the living room to the bed in the bedroom where she was strangled. Nor was it impossible that the perpetrator, in the worst-case scenario, could be someone she had never met before.

In light of the accompanying profile, and considering who the victim was, this seemed the most likely explanation. According to the profile, the perpetrator was a man between twenty and thirty years of age. He lived close to the crime scene, or used to live there, or had close links to it somehow. He probably lived alone; his previous relationships had been difficult; those around him thought him odd; he had difficulty maintaining social relationships, or even long-term friendships; he was unemployed or got short contracts doing some sort of simple work.

He was also seriously psychologically disturbed. His personality demonstrated clear chaotic and irrational elements. He had problems with his attitude to women. Based upon traumatic childhood experiences, he actually hated women, without either him or anyone around him necessarily being aware of the fact. But he most definitely wasn’t an ordinary sexual sadist with well-developed sexual fantasies.

He had an explosive temper. Faced with the slightest problem he could completely lose control of himself, and he was quick to resort to violence. These characteristics were bound to have manifested themselves before, and strongly suggested that he already had a police record, with reference to various violent incidents, but also drug-related crimes. Last but not least, he was physically strong. Strong enough to overpower and strangle a twenty-year-old woman who was training to join the police, and in better shape than most people her age of either sex. He was capable of lifting twenty kilos more than his own weight when he was in the gym. And he was also agile enough to jump out of a window four metres above the ground.

He also leaves his shoes on the rack in the hall. Neatly placed together. And no one saw him creeping away, even though he wears size 55 shoes, Bäckström thought with a deep sigh.

In spite of this, Superintendent Per Jönsson appeared to have made a deep impression on the qualified majority of his audience when, after spending an hour presenting his findings, he opened the floor to questions.

‘I dare say you have a number of questions,’ Jönsson said, smiling warmly at the gathering. ‘Please, go ahead. Feel free to ask about anything that’s on your minds.’

Excellent, Bäckström thought. Maybe you could start by explaining why all the proper officers in National Crime think you’re a bit of a worm.

‘Well, if no one else wants to jump in, perhaps I could go first,’ Olsson said, glancing imperiously round the table.

Great, Olsson, Bäckström thought. Start by asking the bastard why his colleagues at National Crime call the CP group the X-Files.

‘I’d like to start by thanking you for taking the time to visit us down here,’ Olsson began. ‘But mostly for your extremely interesting presentation. No doubt many of my colleagues around the table would agree with me when I say that I’m quite sure that the analysis that you and your colleagues have provided will be of decisive importance in our investigative work.’

But not to any proper police officers, Bäckström thought. Because things can’t be so bloody awful that we have to pin our hopes on little wormy Jönsson and his random ideas.

‘One thing in particular struck me when I read your report,’ Olsson went on. ‘Your description of the perpetrator. I can’t help but envisage yet another criminally inclined and socially excluded young man.’

‘Yes, there’s a lot to suggest that that’s exactly the sort of man we’re looking for,’ Jönsson agreed. ‘But of course it’s far from conclusive,’ he added quickly.

‘You mean, bearing in mind the fact that the majority of the evidence suggests that Linda opened the door and let him in?’ Enoksson said.

‘Well, yes, although of course people do sometimes forget to lock their doors behind them when they get home,’ Jönsson said. ‘Or the victim might have been far too trusting and let someone in, someone who in hindsight she really shouldn’t have.’

‘Yes, how on earth are we going to work that out?’ Enoksson said, sounding as if he were thinking out loud.

‘I’ve got a question, if you don’t mind?’ Adolfsson suddenly said, even though he was sitting as far away as possible.

‘By all means,’ Jönsson said, smiling his most democratic smile.

‘I was thinking about what the National Forensics Lab said. That the perpetrator’s DNA could mean that we’re looking for an outsider,’ Adolfsson said.

‘An outsider?’ Jönsson said, staring questioningly at Adolfsson.

‘Yes, not a Smålander,’ Adolfsson clarified. ‘Someone from elsewhere, if I can put it like that.’

‘I understand what you mean,’ Jönsson said, suddenly looking very cagey. ‘I think we should be very careful about that sort of hypothesis. We’re talking about research which is still in its... early stages, so to speak,’ Jönsson said, stopping himself at the last moment from saying what was on the tip of his tongue.

‘Because otherwise the profile fits a lot of migrants here in town pretty well,’ young Adolfsson persisted. ‘Very well, in fact. If you want to know what a uniform thinks.’

‘I don’t think we can get much further on that point,’ Jönsson said. ‘But, as I said, I think I’d be very careful about drawing that sort of conclusion. Any more questions?’

Quite a few, it had turned out. In total, it had taken three hours. Three more hours gone to hell, Bäckström thought when it was finally over.

‘Fly carefully, Pelle,’ Bäckström said, smiling his most jovial smile when Jönsson said goodbye. ‘And don’t forget to say hello to everyone working on the files.’

That evening after dinner Bäckström had once again gathered the faithful in his hotel room. He had already briefed Rogersson, and just like Bäckström the detective inspector had felt the pleasant tingling once Bäckström had told him. Adolfsson and von Essen had also been invited, seeing as they had done a lot of the work, and it was always an advantage to hear things from the horse’s mouth. Really it was just a matter of letting Lewin and little Svanström in on the secret, even though Bäckström knew in advance what Lewin would think about it.

Was I right, or was I right? Bäckström thought when Lewin knocked on his door ten minutes early so he would have time to talk to Bäckström alone. ‘What can I help you with, Lewin?’ he said, smiling amiably towards his guest.

‘I’m not entirely sure that you can, Bäckström,’ Lewin said. ‘I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. You can’t run your own investigation within an investigation and exclude the majority of your colleagues.’

‘So you’d rather keep on reading everything in the paper, then?’ Bäckström said.

‘Don’t be silly,’ Lewin said. ‘You know I wouldn’t. No more than you or anyone else. But if you ask me, and considering the choice we seem to have, I’d rather try to live with that and not carry on the way you seem to be going.’

‘Do you know what?’ Bäckström said, smiling cheerfully at his guest. ‘I’d rather you listen to what Adolfsson and his partner, and our colleagues Knutsson and Thorén, have to say before you make your mind up.’

‘If you think that’ll change anything,’ Lewin said with a shrug.

‘Once you’ve listened to them, I’ll let you decide how we proceed,’ Bäckström said.

‘Really?’ Lewin said, surprised.

‘Oh, yes,’ Bäckström said. Suck on that, he thought.

First von Essen and Adolfsson presented the results of their work.

‘He’s the last sexual partner that we know Linda had, and he lied about it when he was questioned,’ von Essen said. ‘According to what he and other people say, he leaves the hotel alone, some time between half past three and four. If he walks quickly he can be at Linda’s flat in five minutes, and he hasn’t got an alibi for the rest of the night.’

‘The shoes, the underpants?’ Lewin said. ‘What do his lady friends have to say about them?’

‘Bearing in mind the fact that those details haven’t been made public by those in charge of the case, we haven’t asked,’ Adolfsson said. ‘But they’re the sort of thing that pretty much every other Swedish man is wearing at this time of year.’

Lewin made do with a nod.

Then Knutsson and Thorén presented their findings, and even Lewin looked concerned when they discussed the first telephone conversation their colleague Sandberg had had with Löfgren.

‘In light of what the report says, I don’t see how she could have fitted all those questions into just four minutes,’ Knutsson said.

‘A very efficient woman,’ Thorén said cheerfully.

‘But we can’t rule out the possibility that she called him on his land-line instead,’ Lewin said.

‘No,’ Thorén said.

‘Not yet,’ Knutsson amplified. ‘Telia are making a fuss about his landline, because the account’s in his dad’s name. Our usual contact there got cold feet.’

‘So, what do you say?’ Bäckström said, looking slyly at Lewin. ‘How do you think we should proceed?’

‘Well, it’s certainly a bit tricky. There’s something that doesn’t make sense in all this,’ Lewin said. ‘I was going to suggest that I talk to the prosecutor first thing tomorrow. She seems competent, and pretty solid. I’m sure she’ll decide that we can pull the lad in for questioning without any prior warning, and if he carries on being obstructive she’ll just have to declare him a formal suspect so we can get a DNA sample regardless of whether or not he wants us to.’

‘That sounds like a quite excellent suggestion,’ Bäckström said with a smile. ‘You fix the prosecutor, and I’ll get one of the lads here to get in enough supplies for us to celebrate properly when the little bastard’s finally behind bars.’