Grendel's Game (34 page)

“Do you play chess, Carl?” Stillen was startled.

“Yes, I learned in prison. Why? What's this about?”

“Tell me, does Stina play?”

“Sure. We've played sometimes.”

“Is she good at it?”

“She beats me every time. Why do you want to know?”

“It's just something I was curious about. Let's drop it.”

Stillen had a puzzled expression.

“Did Stina kill Eberhardt Lindfors?” Ekman asked all of a sudden.

“What are you talking about, that was an accident.”

“That's what she may have told you. But can you be sure?”

“She'd never do something like that.”

“I think you may not really know Stina, even after all these years.” Ekman leaned over the table toward him.

“She was just here, Carl. We interviewed her, and when we asked whether you could have killed Westberg, she thought it was possible. She'd like to pin the killing on you, but you know what I think? Maybe she did it. After all, she's the one who'll benefit directly. And if you went down for the murder, she wouldn't have to share with you, would she?”

“You're lying.”

“No, I'm not, and I have a recorded interview to prove it. I wouldn't trust her, Carl. She's getting ready to dump you now that there's the pressure of a murder investigation.”

Stillen was silent and didn't move. He's considering it, thought Ekman.

Rystrom came back into the room.

“Here's your phone, Stillen. This interview is over. But we'll see you again. Soon. Now get out of here.”

A constable standing outside the door led him out of the building.

“That was very neatly done, Walther. You got him thinking about Stina's loyalty. Maybe we'll learn something when they're arguing tonight over who said what here.”

“If we can get them to really distrust each other, they'll probably tell us a lot more.”

“We'll hope so. Your questions about chess and the knot were interesting. What do you think of his reaction?”

“He put on a good show of being bewildered. But Stillen could be a clever actor; psychopaths are.”

“If he's Grendel, he's got to be really on guard now. He knows we've found the link to the other killings.”

“Yes, I was hoping those questions might make him nervous. Nervous people, even psychopaths, are more likely to make mistakes.”

“Do you still think we may be dealing with a serial killer duo? He could have lied and said he and Stina didn't know anything about chess.”

“Yes, but he might be trying a double bluff—making us believe that Grendel wouldn't admit he and his accomplice know the game. Therefore, he couldn't be Grendel. It would be clever.”

“He didn't seem that smart to me. Just an average jerk. If either of them planned the killings and created Grendel, my money's on Lindfors.”

“You may be right, Garth. Her computers and their phones should tell us whether we're getting close.”

57

Running

E
kman was writing summaries of the interviews for Norlander and Edvardsson when the phone rang. It was Malmquist.

“Walther, you're in luck. We worked through the night on your latest DNA swab. Gustaffson is a 99 percent match to that grisly sample you sent.”

“Ludvig, what can I say. We're in your debt.”

“If you really want to pay that debt, just don't send us any more emergency work, okay?”

“I'll do what I can to avoid it. And Ludvig, thanks, sincerely.”

“You're welcome. God knows you're getting enough publicity on this. How soon before we see an ‘Ekman Solves Another One' headline?”

“Perhaps we'll have results fairly soon. But I hope without that headline.”

Ekman phoned Holm. “Where are you?”

“We've gotten the sample from Henriksson's mother and we're about to head over to Linköping.”

“Hold off on that. Malmquist just called. They got a match to Gustaffson.”

“That's great. I mean for us, of course.”

“I know what you mean. It confirms the murder we expected. Make sure you preserve the sample you just got. We may have to match it later.”

“We're heading back now. Is there anything we need to do this evening, Chief?”

“No. I think that's all we can do today. I'll see you both at tomorrow's meeting.”

Ekman went back to finishing his report. By the time he was done it was eight
P.M
. The case seemed to be on track. Lindfors and Stillen had been interviewed with mixed success. Neither he nor Rystrom had actually expected them to break down and confess. If they were psychopaths, they were unlikely to. Of course, that was the problem. The murderer of Gustaffson and, he felt sure, of Henriksson, had to be a psychopath. There was no other explanation for the killings.

Westberg was another matter. There were obvious motives: money and jealousy. And there was the connection of all three men to Lindfors. Based on what they now knew, there seemed to him several possibilities: Lindfors or Stillen had killed the men without the other knowing; the two had worked as a team; or Grendel was simply a ploy used by one of them, or both, to distract and confuse the intense investigation that would inevitably follow Westberg's disappearance. But if none of these proved correct, they were back to square one. They would then have to develop new leads. He had no idea how they would do this.

The most likely explanation, Ekman thought, was that Lindfors and Stillen worked together. Lindfors would be the sexual magnet for the men. She'd admitted as much when confronted with her involvement with both Westbergs and Stillen. It also seemed to him that the double motive they'd suggested for Stillen was at work, probably with Lindfors's knowledge. As for the other killings, they simply demonstrated the psychopathy of the two.

His muscles were aching from fatigue and his stomach had begun to growl. Perhaps I'll go to the restaurant across the square, before heading home, he thought. He didn't feel like trying to pull together a dinner at the house, or even getting carry-out. Eating at home by himself was just too lonely.

I
n the restaurant with a glass of ale and a plate of roast pork loin, potatoes, and cabbage in front of him, he felt somewhat restored. He called Ingbritt and was surprised how moved he was just to hear her voice.

“Is everyone fine? Good. Yes, I'm okay. Working hard, trying to finish up this case. No, not yet. It may be another week. I miss you too. Very much. I'll be glad when this is over so we can be together. No, I'm not being unreasonably cautious. There have been at least three murders. I just wouldn't feel comfortable with you here until this is wrapped up. I love you too. Good night, Ingbritt.”

On the drive home Ekman wondered if she wasn't right. After all Stillen and Lindfors were under close surveillance. Maybe if things moved along well, he should reconsider. He would decide in a few days. What he knew now was that her absence left a deep void in his existence.

E
kman had been in bed reading Braudel's history of Philip II's era until he gradually dozed off. He was startled awake by the phone. The bright green numbers on the bedside alarm clock told him it was eleven twenty
P.M
. He groped for the bed lamp's switch, blinked in the light, and picked up the phone.

“Chief, it's Rosengren. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I thought you'd like to know right away.”

“Yes, go on.” Ekman had a sense of foreboding. Was it another murder?

“Stillen's gone. The surveillance team lost him an hour ago. He went into a bar and never came out. When they sent a guy to check a half hour later, he wasn't there. The place had a back entrance. He's skipped.”

Their interrogation had probably frightened him more than they'd realized, Ekman thought.

“Put out an all-points alert, using the best picture of him we have from the interview recording. Describe him as ‘a person of interest, wanted for questioning.' He should be treated as dangerous and possibly armed. And keep a close watch on Lindfors and her apartment. She may decide to run too, or Stillen may turn up there.”

“Got it, Chief,” said Rosengren, and hung up.

It was one a.m. before Ekman managed to get back to a restless sleep.

58

Pursuit

S
aturday, October 22
.
When Ekman walked into the conference room at eight that morning, everyone was standing around talking about Stillen's flight. He sat down and the others gradually quieted and took their seats.

Turning to Rystrom, he said, “Any sighting of Stillen?”

“Not yet.”

“Has he contacted Lindfors?”

“No, although she's been trying to reach him. He's not answering his phone.”

“We may have to involve the media, but I'm very reluctant. If we do, some of them are likely to jump to the conclusion that he's Grendel. They'll say we had him in custody and released the cannibal on the public. It could be a PR disaster.”

“Don't you believe he's Grendel, Chief?” Holm asked.

“I'm not certain yet. What do you think, Garth?”

Rystrom looked around the table. “After yesterday's interrogation, I don't know. He didn't impress me as being smart enough to be Grendel. Although he could have been purposely playing dumb.”

“For now, we'll keep the hunt for Stillen out of the media,” said Ekman. “We'll maintain the surveillance on Lindfors. Stillen will probably try to contact her soon, if only because he'll be running out of money and has nowhere else to turn.”

“There's important new information about Lindfors,” said Rystrom. “The techs have gone over her computers and phones. They can't find anything related to the chess club. There's nothing to tie her to the missing men.”

Ekman looked around the table at the others. The room had become still after Rystrom spoke.

“Are you certain your people are right?” Ekman asked.

“Yes. They were very thorough. Unfortunately, there's no doubt. There's nothing incriminating and nothing has been deleted.”

“And yet, we know the missing men were in computer contact with her.” Ekman rubbed his chin, gazing at the ceiling. “How do we account for that?”

“There could be another computer we haven't found, Chief,” said Vinter. All eyes turned toward her. “Maybe she has a storage locker.”

“You're right, Gerdi. We need to find out if she has a locker, perhaps in the attic or basement of her apartment building. The warrant we have is broad enough to cover it. Alenius and Rosengren, talk to the building manager. If she has a locker and you find another computer, get it to the techs right away. Have forensics check it, and everything in the locker, for fingerprints.”

“We'll get on it right after the meeting, Chief,” said the usually silent Alenius, pleased they'd gotten this assignment.

“Until we can make the computer connection between Lindfors and the other missing men we can't move against her. As for Stillen, we need to get our hands on him and sweat him some more. His taking off makes me think that whether or not he's Grendel, he's done something criminal he's afraid we'll soon discover,” Ekman said.

“I think you're right, Chief,” said Rapp. “He has to know that running away makes him look bad. And we didn't really have anything on him. So why do it?”

“Alrik, you and Mats pay a visit to the hardware store where Stillen worked. Find out if any goods or cash are missing.

“Because we now have a DNA match between the sample Grendel sent and Gustaffson, we've confirmed one murder by Grendel for certain, and two others are probable. That's three bodies, possibly five, if we include the two who robbed me. Enar and Gerdi, I'd like you to work on what Grendel might have done with them.”

The two looked at each other and Holm looked bemused. They had no idea how to begin a search for corpses in hundreds of square kilometers of southern Sweden.