The killer's art

32

As soon as Knutas returned from buying a sandwich for lunch, he could hear that Kihlgard and his colleagues from the National Criminal Police had arrived. Martin Kihlgard’s bellowing laugh was unmistakable. Loud voices and bursts of laughter issued from the conference room; it sounded like happy hour in a cocktail bar. It was always the same. As soon as Kihlgard turned up, the mood in the criminal division lightened appreciably.

No one noticed Knutas as he pushed open the door. Kihlgard was standing with his broad back to the door, and he had clearly just finished telling one of his countless stories, since everybody seated at the table was doubled over with laughter.

‘And then he went and crammed the whole thing in his mouth,’ Kihlgard went on, his voice excited as he threw out his arms. ‘Every damned crumb!’

This punchline evoked yet another burst of laughter that practically made the walls shake. Knutas deliberately surveyed the room and then discreetly tapped Kihlgard on the shoulder. The inspector’s face, when he turned around, expressed nothing but delight.

‘Hey, there you are, Knutie, old boy. How’s it going?’

Knutas almost disappeared in Kihlgard’s wide embrace. He gave his colleague an awkward pat on the back.

‘Fine. Just fine. You seem to be in top form.’

‘It’s rocking fine, as the girl said!’

Kihlgard gave another roar of laughter, and the whole investigative team joined in.

It wasn’t merely Kihlgard’s jokes that prompted laughter; everything about him was comical. His wild head of hair stuck out in all directions, as if he’d never owned a comb. He had a ruddy complexion, and he was slightly pop-eyed. He often wore brightly coloured V-neck shirts that fitted snugly around his paunch. The fact that he liked to wave his hands around when he talked and was almost always eating merely reinforced his clownish demeanour. It was hard to guess his age; he could be anywhere from forty to sixty. But Knutas happened to know that Kihlgard was three years older than himself, which made him fifty-five.

After Knutas had greeted the colleagues that Kihlgard had brought with him from Stockholm, the meeting could begin. Knutas gave his report and then cast an inquisitive glance at his colleagues from the mainland. ‘So, what do you think?’

‘There are undeniably plenty of avenues to follow up,’ began Kihlgard. ‘The part about the thefts is interesting. And they weren’t just any old paintings. He wasn’t exactly a small-time crook, was he?’

‘I wonder how long he played the role of a fence. If that was what he was doing,’ said Jacobsson.

‘It could have been going on for a long time. But I think we would have got wind of what he was up to,’ said Knutas, sounding worried.

‘To think that he dared keep the paintings in a storage room,’ said Wittberg. ‘Isn’t that odd? The place could have burned down or something else might have happened. Somebody could even have broken in and stolen them.’

‘Maybe it was just a temporary hiding place for those particular paintings. An exception,’ said Norrby.

‘But why did he still have them in his possession when he was so careful about all the other preparations? With the moving and everything else?’ wondered Jacobsson.

‘He was probably planning to sell them in Stockholm,’ Knutas suggested. ‘Presumably he had a contact over there.’

‘Did he have a computer?’ asked Kihlgard.

‘Of course,’ said Knutas. ‘Both at home and at the gallery. We searched his house today, so we’ll be going through his computer files.’

‘The sale of the gallery must have stirred up a lot of emotions, both for his wife and the employees. How did they react? Not to mention the fact that he’d sold it to that Sixten Dahl.’

‘Monika Wallin seemed quite unmoved by the sale of the gallery when I talked to her,’ said Knutas. ‘But of course she could have been just putting on a show. We’ll need to investigate the matter further. And we’ll have to ask for more help from Stockholm with finding anyone else who was working with him. Plus we need to search the flat that Wallin was planning to move into.’

‘Yes, he must have had good contacts in Stockholm,’ muttered Kihlgard. ‘Doesn’t his wife know anything about that?’

‘Not according to what she’s told us so far,’ said Knutas curtly. He was annoyed that he hadn’t thought to ask the widow more questions when he interviewed her. ‘We’ll need to talk to her again.’

‘What about the guests at the gallery opening?’ Kihlgard went on. ‘Do you have a list of who was invited?’

‘Yep, I’ve taken care of that,’ said Jacobsson, holding up a big piece of paper. ‘I’ve divided them into three groups. The first column lists all those who received an invitation. The second column shows the names of those who were invited and actually came. The third lists other guests, meaning those people the employees could remember coming to the opening without an invitation.’

‘Are there any interesting names?’

‘Absolutely. A couple of well-known art dealers from Stockholm. And we know that Wallin had business dealings with both of them. Hugo Malmberg, who has a gallery in Gamla Stan, and of course Sixten Dahl, whom we already know,’ said Jacobsson. ‘He was supposed to be interviewed this morning, but we haven’t yet heard from Stockholm how it went. Regardless, he’s of particular interest because he was competing with Egon for the Lithuanian artist, and also because he bought the gallery here in Visby, using a front man.’

‘I suppose you’ll want to bring those two over here and interview them yourselves?’ Kihlgard cast an enquiring glance at Knutas as he tore open a bag of sweets: Ahlgren’s foam cars. There was a pause before Knutas answered. ‘Not at the moment.’

‘Considering that Egon Wallin was secretly planning to move to Stockholm, and he was also dabbling in stolen paintings, don’t you think it’s highly interesting that two art dealers from Stockholm would come to the gallery on the very day that Wallin was murdered?’ Kihlgard tossed a handful of foam cars into his mouth.

Knutas could feel himself growing more and more irritable. He couldn’t be in the same room as Kihlgard for five minutes before the man began to infuriate him. ‘That’s something we’ll have to consider eventually. But right now I think it’s important to hear back from Stockholm about the interview with Sixten Dahl.’

He gathered up his papers and got to his feet, indicating that the meeting was over.

Knutas needed some fresh air.