Dark Secrets (44 page)

Just outside Eskilstuna they pulled into a building site where a shopping center was under construction. With girders sticking up where the walls would be, it didn’t look much like a future temple of consumerism at the moment, but the huge concrete base was almost finished. Some distance away they could see a group of workers busy with a big yellow machine. Sebastian and Vanja headed over to the builders’ huts, where they found someone who appeared to be the foreman. “We’re looking for Frank Clevén.”

The man nodded and pointed to one of the huts in the middle. “He was over there last time I saw him.”

“Thanks.”

Frank Clevén was one of those people who looked better in real life than in a photograph. His features were finely chiseled, even though his skin was lined from spending so much time outdoors. Sharp eyes, screwed up in the manner of the Marlboro Man as he shook hands with Sebastian and Vanja. They didn’t see that broad smile from the photograph once during their conversation. He suggested they should go into his small office in one of the other huts, where they would be able to talk without being disturbed. Vanja and Sebastian followed him, and it seemed to Vanja that his shoulders grew heavier and heavier with every crunching step across the gravel. They were on the right track, she could feel it.

At last.

Clevén unlocked the door and invited them in. The gray daylight seeped in through two windows white with dust as they stepped into the cramped hut. There was a pungent smell of tannin. A coffee machine occupied the tiny hallway linking two small rooms. Clevén’s office was the first. The only furniture was an impersonal desk covered in drawings, and a few chairs. The walls were bare apart from old tape marks and last year’s calendar. Clevén looked at the two officers, who remained standing even though he had offered them a seat. He also chose to stand.

“I don’t have a great deal of time, so this will have to be quick.” Clevén tried to keep his voice calm, but failed. Sebastian noticed that Clevén’s upper lip was beaded with sweat. The room was not warm.

“We’ve got all the time in the world, so it’s up to you how quick this is,” Sebastian replied, making it perfectly clear that this meeting wasn’t going to be conducted on Frank’s terms.

“I don’t even know why you’re here. Your colleague just said you wanted to speak to me.”

“If you’d like to sit down, my colleague will explain.” Sebastian looked at Vanja, who nodded but waited for Clevén to sit down. After a short silence he decided to cooperate. He sat down. Right on the edge of the chair. As if he were perching on needles.

“Could you tell us why you stayed in a motel in Västerås last Friday?”

He looked at them.

“I didn’t stay in a motel last Friday. Who says I did?”

“We do.”

Vanja didn’t say any more. Under normal circumstances the person they were questioning would begin to talk of his own accord at this stage. When he was presented with facts. Surely he ought to realize they wouldn’t have come all the way to Eskilstuna if they didn’t have solid evidence? Confirm or explain away, those were the usual options. Or there was a third choice. Silence. Clevén went for the third option. He glanced from Vanja to Sebastian but didn’t say a word. Vanja sighed.

“Who were you meeting? What were you doing there?”

“I wasn’t there, I tell you.” His expression was almost pleading. “You must have the wrong person.”

Vanja looked down at her papers. Mumbled to herself. Took her time. Sebastian didn’t take his eyes off Clevén. He was licking his lips as if they had suddenly gone dry. A bead of sweat began to emerge just on his hairline above his forehead. The room still wasn’t warm.

“Aren’t you Frank Clevén, ID number 580518?” Vanja asked, her tone neutral.

“Yes.”

“Didn’t you pay seven hundred seventy-nine kronor for a room using your debit card last Friday?”

Clevén blanched.

“It’s been stolen. My card’s been stolen.”

“Stolen? Have you reported it to the police, and if so, when?”

He fell silent; his brain seemed to be working overtime. A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek, which had grown significantly paler.

“I haven’t reported it.”

“Have you stopped it?”

“I might have forgotten, I don’t know…”

“Oh come on, you don’t seriously expect us to believe your card has been stolen?”

No reply. Vanja decided it was time to let Frank Clevén know just how bad things looked for him at the moment.

“This is a murder investigation. That means we will look into every piece of information you give us in detail. So let me ask you again: Did you stay in a motel in Västerås last Friday, yes or no?”

Clevén looked shocked.

“A murder investigation?”

“Yes.”

“But I haven’t murdered anyone.”

“So what have you done?”

“Nothing. I’ve done nothing.”

“You were in Västerås on the night of the murder, and you’ve lied about it. That sounds rather suspicious to me.”

Clevén jerked, his whole body twisting. He found it difficult to look at the two people sitting in front of him. Sebastian leaped to his feet.

“Bugger this. I’m going to your house to ask your wife if she knows anything. Will you stay here with him?”

Vanja nodded and looked at Clevén; he was staring wanly at Sebastian, who was slowly heading for the door.

“She doesn’t know anything,” he sputtered.

“No, perhaps not, but she’ll know whether you were at home or not, won’t she? Wives usually have a pretty good idea about that sort of thing.” Sebastian’s extra broad smile showed how happy he was at the very thought of going to Clevén’s house to see his wife and children and ask the question. He managed a few more steps before Clevén stopped him.

“Okay, I was at the motel.”

“I see.”

“But my wife doesn’t know anything.”

“So you said. Who did you meet there?”

No reply.

“Who did you meet? We can sit here all day. We can send for a squad car to come and take you away in handcuffs. It’s up to you. But let me make one thing very clear: we will find out eventually.”

“I can’t say who it was. It’s out of the question. Things will be bad enough for me if this comes out, but for him…”

“Him?”

Frank fell silent and nodded in embarrassment. Suddenly everything became clear to Sebastian.

The gun club.

The embarrassed look on Frank’s face.

Palmlövska High, riddled with lies.

“You were meeting Ragnar Groth, weren’t you?”

Frank nodded quietly.

He lowered his eyes.

And his world came crashing down.

In the car on the way back Sebastian and Vanja were almost elated.

Frank Clevén and Ragnar Groth had been involved in a relationship for quite some time. They had found each other at the gun club. Fourteen years ago. Tentatively at first, then their liaison had become all absorbing. Destructive. Clevén had even moved away from Västerås to try to put an end to the relationship he was so ashamed of. After all, he was married. He had children. He wasn’t a homosexual. But he hadn’t been able to stay away. It was like a poisonous drug.

The pleasure.

The sex.

The shame.

Around and around it went. They had continued to see each other. It was always Groth who called and suggested they meet, but Clevén never refused. He longed for their encounters. Never at Groth’s home. The motel became their oasis. The cheap room. The soft beds. Clevén always made the reservation and paid. He had had to come up with
excuses, constantly trying to mitigate his wife’s suspicions. It was easier when he didn’t stay over. Coming home late was easier than not coming home at all. Yes, they had met up on that Friday. At about four o’clock. Groth had been almost insatiable. Clevén hadn’t left the motel until just before ten. Groth had departed just about half an hour earlier.

Shortly after half past nine.

Just when Roger was probably walking past the building.

A
LL FIVE
of them could feel the sense of expectation in the air. They recognized it and welcomed it. This was how it felt when they had made a breakthrough, when the investigation gathered momentum, when in the best-case scenario they could begin to sense the end. For several days every clue, every idea, had led to a dead end, but Ragnar Groth’s tryst at the motel had provided them with completely new pieces of the puzzle to work with. Pieces that seemed to fit together very well.

“So the principal of a private prep school with a Christian set of values and ethos is homosexual.” Torkel contemplated his team. In their eyes he could see and feel the fresh energy permeating the room. “It’s not too far-fetched to think that he was ready to go quite a long way to hide that fact.”

“Killing someone isn’t going quite a long way, it’s going a hell of a long way.” That came from Ursula. Torkel thought she looked tired. True, she had been tied up with the fire and the presumed murder of Westin all day, but he still couldn’t help wondering whether she had slept as badly as he had.

“No one was ever meant to die.” Sebastian plucked a pear from the fruit bowl. He took a big, noisy bite.

“Aren’t we assuming that the person who murdered Roger Eriksson also killed Peter Westin?” Ursula wondered. “Surely nobody thinks that was an accident too?”

“No, but I still maintain that Roger’s murder wasn’t planned.” It was
slightly difficult to make out the words as they got caught up in the half-masticated pear. Sebastian took a few seconds, finished chewing, and swallowed. Started again.

“I still maintain that Roger’s murder wasn’t planned. We are, however, dealing with a person who will do whatever it takes to get away with it.”

“So Roger’s murder may have been an accident, but he’s prepared to kill in cold blood so that nobody will find out he did it?”

“Yes.”

“How does he square that?” Billy wondered. “With his conscience, I mean.”

“He probably regards himself as being of supreme importance. Not necessarily for selfish reasons. He might believe that one or more people would be harmed if he were caught. Would suffer for his sake. He might have a job he thinks no one else could do, or a task he must complete. At any price.”

“Does the principal of Palmlövska High fit in there?” The question came from Vanja. Sebastian shrugged his shoulders. He could hardly reach a diagnosis on Ragnar Groth from the two short meetings they had had, but he wasn’t prepared to dismiss him. His commitment to the school had already led to his failure to report a serious matter to the police. Was he prepared to go further? Definitely. As far as necessary? That remained to be seen. Sebastian left it open.

“Possibly.”

“Do we know whether Ragnar Groth knew that Roger used to go to see Peter Westin?” Understandably, Ursula was sticking to the Westin trail.

“He must have.” Billy looked around, seeking support. “I mean, Westin had an agreement with the school, so he must have told them who was making use of his services. He must have gotten paid somehow.”

“We’ll find out.” Torkel broke in before their new-found enthusiasm provided answers to questions they hadn’t even asked yet. The desire
to get everything to fall into place was very strong at this stage of an investigation, and it was important to hold back. To analyze what they actually knew, what was possible and probable, and what they hadn’t a clue about.

“Sebastian and Vanja have put together a scenario. The rest of us will listen and concentrate on finding instances where the facts or the forensic evidence don’t fit. Okay?”

Everyone nodded. Torkel turned to Sebastian, who indicated with a small gesture that Vanja could begin. She glanced down at her papers and started to speak.

“This is how we see it: Roger is walking toward the motel. He’s angry and upset after his encounter with Leo Lundin. With blood on his face and his self-esteem shattered, he wipes away the tears with the sleeve of his jacket. He turns into the grounds of the motel, on his way to meet the person he has arranged to see. Suddenly he stops. A movement from one of the motel rooms catches his attention. He looks up and sees the school principal. Ragnar Groth turns to the door of the room he has just left, and a hand draws him back. A man Roger doesn’t recognize appears in the doorway, leans forward, and kisses Ragnar on the lips. He seems to protest momentarily, but as Roger withdraws into the shadows, he sees Ragnar relax and respond to the kiss almost immediately. When the kiss is over and the door closes, Ragnar looks around, his expression alert.

“If Roger was going to meet someone at the motel, he definitely has to change his plans at this point.” Vanja looked at Sebastian, who stood up and started to wander around the room as he took over.

“Roger sneaks off toward the parking lot, and when Ragnar reaches his car, Roger is standing there waiting for him, a supercilious smile on his face. He confronts Ragnar with what he has just seen. Ragnar denies everything, but Roger sticks to his guns. If nothing has happened, it won’t matter if he tells people, will it? Roger can see that Ragnar is frantically trying to come up with a solution. The situation gives Roger great pleasure. After his encounter with Leo, it feels good
to be the one who has the power for a while. He sees Ragnar sweating. Sees someone else suffering for once. He is the strong one now. Roger explains that he can, of course, keep quiet about the principal’s amorous little adventures, but it won’t be cheap. He wants money. Lots of money. Ragnar refuses. Roger shrugs his shoulders; in that case it will be on Facebook within fifteen minutes. Ragnar realizes he is close to losing everything. Roger turns to leave. The parking lot is deserted. Poorly lit. Roger misjudges how much Ragnar has to lose as he turns his back on him. Ragnar hits out and Roger slumps to the ground.”