The killer's art

45

There was an air of tension when the investigative team gathered for their meeting on Monday afternoon. Everyone had heard about the Gotland sculpture that was left at Waldemarsudde, and they were all eager to hear more. Even Kihlgard was silent as he fixed his eyes on Knutas taking his seat at the head of the table.

‘All right now, listen to this,’ Knutas began. ‘This case just seems to get more and more mysterious. Apparently there’s a connection between the murder and the theft that took place at Waldemarsudde in the middle of the night.’

He told them what Kurt Fogestam had reported.

‘Plus we have the stolen paintings found in Egon Wallin’s home,’ said Jacobsson. ‘So there must be some sort of link. Is there some disgruntled gangster who had dealings with the victim? Maybe Wallin neglected to pay him, so the guy ended up killing him. And now for some reason he wants to talk about it, so to speak.’

‘What else could it be? It’s obvious that this has something to do with stolen artworks,’ said Wittberg.

‘But why did the thief take only one painting?’ Kihlgard looked at his colleagues. ‘If this has to do with art thieves who are willing to take the risk to carry out a coup against one of Sweden’s most well-protected museums, why then steal only one painting? And not even the most valuable one. I can’t figure it out,’ he said as he unwrapped a chocolate cake he’d brought along.

No one said a word.

‘We actually know nothing about what Egon Wallin was doing with those stolen paintings,’ Jacobsson then said. ‘How extensive was his involvement? And how long had it been going on? None of the interviews done here on Gotland has proved productive, and he seems to have been totally unknown among the art thieves and fences in Stockholm. Good Lord, surely we should be able to flush out at least one person who knows something about his shady art dealings. Those paintings hidden in his house weren’t just trifles.’

‘We should actually be glad that Waldemarsudde was burgled,’ said Norrby tersely. ‘At least we have something new to investigate, and we really needed that.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Knutas, rubbing his chin. ‘But why would the thief make such a point of linking the two crimes? I just don’t understand it.’

No one had any response to that.

‘Another question is why he chose to take “The Dying Dandy”. He made no attempt to hide the purpose of his actions by stealing at least one other painting.’

‘He probably didn’t have time,’ Jacobsson objected. ‘Because the alarms went off.’

‘That may be true, but the question still remains: why the Dardel? Why that particular painting?’

‘It could have been a contract job,’ suggested Wittberg. ‘A fanatic collector who hired somebody to steal the painting. It won’t be possible to sell it, at least not in Sweden. What do we know about the painting?’

Lars Norrby looked through his papers. ‘I’ve done a little research. It was painted in 1918 by Nils von Dardel, or rather just plain Nils Dardel. He came from a noble family, but he dropped the “von” from his name after he grew up. I’ve actually found out all sorts of titbits about him.’

He smiled with satisfaction. His colleagues looked at him, uncomprehending.

‘Dardel began painting in early 1900 and had his heyday in the twenties and thirties. His painting “The Dying Dandy” has been owned by various private individuals, but in the early nineties the Museum of Modern Art bought it from the financier Tomas Fischer. It was also once sold at an auction run by Bukowski’s firm for a record amount. You may remember the sale; there were plenty of articles about it in the newspapers at the time.’

Bukowski’s, thought Knutas. How strange that the firm keeps cropping up. Erik Mattson’s name flitted through his mind. He still hadn’t received any explanation for why Mattson hadn’t mentioned going to Egon Wallin’s gallery opening. Something wasn’t right. He needed to talk to Mattson again. He wrote himself a reminder in his notebook.

‘Who in Sweden has a strong interest in Nils Dardel? Should we be looking at that angle?’ Jacobsson suggested.

‘Yes, but what did Egon Wallin have to do with Nils Dardel? There must be some kind of link,’ said Wittberg.

‘We don’t know, but that’s one of the threads we need to follow,’ said Knutas. ‘I recommend that one of you go to Stockholm immediately to meet the police, visit Waldemarsudde, and try to do some more digging into the whole art business. It might also be a good idea to meet Sixten Dahl and Hugo Malmberg on their home turf.’

‘I’ll go,’ offered Kihlgard.

‘In that case, I’d like someone from our team to go with you,’ said Knutas.

‘I can do it,’ said Jacobsson. ‘I’d like to go.’

‘Fine. That’s settled then,’ said Knutas, giving her a rather disapproving look. Why her? And why him?