The Dead Of Summer

MONDAY, 17 JULY

KNUTAS WOKE UP in his bed at home on Bokströmsgatan and found himself staring at Lina’s freckled back. She was taking deep, calm breaths. Cautiously, he kissed her shoulder, and she grunted softly.

They’d had a marvellous time. He and Lina had sat out on the porch in the warm summer evening, sipping cold white wine and talking the way they used to. They discussed what had happened out on Furillen. When he spoke the words aloud, it was as if he finally realized what a serious episode he’d been through.

They talked about how lucky he’d been, since the whole drama had ended well, even though the three men had escaped with all the appliances and everything else. Knutas was reminded of what he and Lina actually had together. What did it matter if their sex life was going through a lull when he thought about the camaraderie and intimacy they shared? They had fun together, laughed a lot and he loved her bold outlook. It was so easy living with Lina.

He needed to make more of an effort, do more to rekindle their love. It really wouldn’t require such major changes to improve things. He’d already made a start the previous evening by making sure they went to bed long before they were too tired to do anything but fall asleep.

When Knutas arrived at the investigative meeting an hour later, he noticed a particularly charged mood in the room. Even though he was a few minutes early, everyone else was already there, and they all seemed remarkably focused. Knutas started off the meeting.

‘So the primary suspects are these three men from Estonia, according to information we received from Peter Bovide’s partner, Johnny Ekwall. Since they’re undocumented workers, the construction company only has a mobile number for one of them, whose name is Andres. We’re now using that number to search for him in Estonia. I also jotted down the licence-plate number of the van before they found me, and fortunately they didn’t find the little scrap of paper when they searched my pockets. The car is registered to someone named Ants Otsa. We’ve enlisted the help of the Estonian police, and the hunt is on for all three men, now suspected of murdering Peter Bovide. We have a statement from a witness who said that three Baltic men and a large white van were seen on the boat to Nynäshamn yesterday around lunchtime, and if that’s true, then they could be back in Estonia by now.’

‘What do we know about these guys?’ asked Wittberg.

‘I’ve talked to Interpol,’ said Kihlgård. ‘Ants Otsa is on the police books in Estonia for possession of narcotics and as an accessory to armed robbery several years ago. The other two are unknowns; we don’t even have their last names.’

‘How long have they been working for Slite Construction?’

‘About six months, according to Johnny Ekwall,’ replied Knutas.

‘Does Ekwall have any idea what’s behind their actions?’ asked Jacobsson.

‘He continues to claim that he knows very little, that he was just doing his job, and that he didn’t get involved in how the company was otherwise being run. According to him, it was a subcontractor who had responsibility for the house project on Furillen, but we haven’t yet located the person in charge. Of course, Ekwall had his suspicions that things weren’t being done entirely on the up and up, but he reasoned that as long as the company was doing well and he received his salary, he shouldn’t get involved.’

‘Typical male reaction,’ snorted Jacobsson. ‘Just stick your head in the sand and refuse to see what’s going on around you, and then you can’t be held responsible.’

‘At any rate, he had a hard time explaining how the company could have taken on so much more work than its employees could handle. I think that as soon as the examination of the company’s finances is complete, we’ll be able to charge both him and possibly the secretary, Linda Johansson, with tax evasion,’ Knutas went on. ‘She couldn’t have been unaware of what was going on, even if she too did probably try to stick her head in the sand. Provided that tactic isn’t exclusive to men.’

‘Has anyone talked to her husband?’ asked Kihlgård.

‘Yes, but from what I understand, we didn’t learn anything useful,’ said Jacobsson. ‘I don’t have the transcript here, but we can take another look at the interview.’

‘Good.’ Knutas drummed his fingertips impatiently on the table. ‘Anything else? How’s it going with the search for a safe?’

‘We’ve been over the house and the office again with a fine-tooth comb,’ said Sohlman. ‘There’s no sign at all of a safe or any money stashed away.’

‘The fraud division is continuing their investigation, although the wheels turn slowly,’ said Knutas. ‘But at least they’ve gone through the bank accounts of the company, as well as Bovide’s personal accounts. When it comes to the company, it’s obvious that he was making extensive use of illegal workers, at least during the past two years. He was clearly taking big risks, committing the firm to major projects and laying out a lot of money. But as a corporation, the company is separate from his private finances, and there we’ve been unable to find anything out of the ordinary – either too much or too little money. According to his wife, everything adds up.’

‘The question is whether she’s being honest,’ said Knutas pensively. ‘And whether the business partner, Johnny Ekwall, is telling the truth. Let’s bring both of them in again.’

THE PHONE RANG as soon as Knutas was back in his office.

A husky male voice spoke on the other end of the line.

‘Hi, it’s Torsten Ahlberg from Visby hospital. You wanted to talk to me?’

‘Yes, thanks for getting back to me.’

Knutas quickly outlined the details in the Bovide homicide case.

‘He was a regular patient of mine, and I had prescribed anti-depressants for him. That’s true.’

‘Why? What sort of problem did he have?’

‘He suffered from panic attacks and needed help in quelling the symptoms, in order to avoid the real abyss, so to speak. But I’m afraid I can’t tell you what the underlying problem was.’

‘Was it related to his epilepsy?’

‘Not directly, but he started having epileptic fits about the same time as the panic attacks began. That was years ago.’

‘When did he first come to see you?’

‘I have a very clear memory of that,’ said the doctor. ‘After I heard about the murder, naturally I started thinking about my contact with Peter Bovide. I thought that was what you wanted to ask me about, so I’ve already taken out his casebook. I have all the information here. Under normal circumstances, the contents would be confidential, but it’s a different matter now that a homicide investigation is involved – and besides, the patient is dead.’

‘I’d like to know as much as you can tell me about Bovide.’

‘He came here in the early hours of 1 August 1985, at 3.15 a.m., to be precise,’ the doctor read from the file. ‘He was suffering from violent convulsions. We gave him the appropriate medicines and detoxified him. His blood alcohol level was.16 when he arrived.’

‘From what I understand, that was his first epileptic fit, and it brought on a severe depression.’

‘Hmm… that’s not exactly how I’d describe the situation. Peter Bovide did begin therapy after that event, and then he started seeing an authorized therapist. The psychologist and I kept in contact the whole time, since I was the doctor handling his case from a purely medical perspective, and we both saw a connection between the epilepsy and the depression.’

‘In what way?’

‘It’s not easy to say. But both started at the same time.’

‘On that day, 1 August?’

‘No, he’d actually had his first epileptic fit a week earlier.’

‘Really? In what context?’

‘Unfortunately, I don’t know. He didn’t want to say. On that occasion he was admitted to Nynäshamn hospital.’

‘Nynäshamn? What was he doing there?’

‘He may have been on his way either to or from Gotland. It was in the middle of the summer, after all. He must have been on holiday.’

‘Sure, you’re probably right. Well, don’t hesitate to ring again if you think of anything else.’

Knutas thanked the doctor for his information.

LATE MONDAY NIGHT, Knutas received the message he was hoping for. The Estonian police reported that the owner of the white van, Ants Otsa, had been arrested, along with his two companions, at his home in central Tallinn. All three had openly admitted to the police that they’d been working illegally in Sweden for a company on Gotland called Slite Construction. The contact between the Swedish and Estonian police had functioned beyond all expectations. The extradition process, which was normally difficult to handle, had been carried out with astonishing ease. On Tuesday the men would be flown to Stockholm, and from there to Gotland.

Knutas leaned back in his chair. He was pleased to know that the men who had most likely beaten Vendela Bovide and also threatened him and locked him in a cupboard had now been caught. And maybe all three, or at least one of them, had murdered Peter Bovide.