Grendel's Game (37 page)

Stillen at Rest

G
rendel was busily at work. He'd almost finished wrapping Stillen's naked body in plastic. He hummed under his breath and chatted with the corpse as he knelt beside it, lifting it from the concrete floor to pull the heavy plastic around the stiffening body. It was difficult: rigor mortis had begun to set in. His exertions made his warm breath condense in plumes in the frigid air of the meat locker.

“They think you've run away, Carl, but you couldn't get far in your present condition could you? You agree? Good.

“There are some advantages you have over the rest of us, you know. We age and wither daily. You, on the other hand, will stay nice and fresh. At least for a few years. Now aren't you the lucky one?”

Finishing the wrapping, he stood up and stepped back to admire his handiwork before kneeling again.

Looping coarse, heavy rope around the body, he attached the hook he'd pulled down from the overhead steel rack. Using the chain pulley, he hoisted the body up and slid it along the rack until it came to rest beside the other corpses.

Grendel looked along the line of cocooned bodies. There was plenty of room for a few more, he thought.

“I'm sure you'll get along marvelously with the other boys, Carl. Now the six of you play nicely together. I have to leave for a while, but I'll soon be back with another playmate. Try not to miss me too much.”

Grendel smiled to himself and whistled a Sousa march as he headed to the door.

64

News Story

H
aeggman had almost completed his story for tomorrow's paper; his editor had assured him it would be front-page news. What he needed to finish it was a response from Ekman that would put the slant he wanted on the story.

“Herr Ekman? It's Bruno Haeggman. There'll be a story in tomorrow's paper about Grendel and your search for Carl Stillen. Why did you let him go after you had him in custody?”

“Haeggman, you should be speaking with our public affairs officer, not with me.”

“But you're in charge of the Grendel case, right? And Stillen is your prime suspect. You had him and now you're trying to get him back, right?”

Ekman knew Haeggman would never talk with public affairs because he'd just get a neutral “ongoing investigation” response.

“Look, Haeggman, you're wrong. We haven't identified Stillen as Grendel. And he was never in custody. He was just brought in for questioning. We want to talk to him again. There are some further questions, and that's why we asked for help in locating him. That's it.”

“Ekman, I know the sound of bullshit when I hear it. Why don't you level with me and our readers? The guy's a danger to the public and you slipped up and let him get away.”

“Haeggman, you can print what you like, even if it has no resemblance to the truth. You can also print my denial of your twisted story.” Ekman hung up. There was no point in trying to dissuade Haeggman.

How did Haeggman make the connection between Stillen and Grendel? he asked himself. Someone inside the investigation had been talking again. Ekman didn't think it was anyone on his team, now that he'd questioned them directly about the leak. But he hadn't spoken with Holm and Vinter. Maybe I've been negligent, too trusting, he thought. But he couldn't convince himself that either of them could be speaking with Haeggman.

Who else? Rystrom? Never. The only ones left were Norlander, Malmer, and Edvardsson. The first two abhorred adverse publicity, and Edvardsson, like Rystrom, was inconceivable.

Could Malmer hate him enough to try and make him out to be incompetent? It was worth thinking about. After all, Malmer wasn't directly involved in the case, especially since Norlander had relegated him to administrative work. Maybe he held Ekman responsible for his de facto demotion and was willing to tarnish the police and Norlander to get at Ekman.

It was a possibility he couldn't dismiss. But he didn't have anything to use to confront Malmer. Perhaps he could plant a seed in Norlander's mind and see if it took root.

“Commissioner, it's Walther Ekman. Sorry to bother you at home again, but I thought you should know I just got off the phone with Bruno Haeggman. There'll be a story in tomorrow's
Sydvenska Nyheter
about the hunt for Carl Stillen that identifies him as Grendel. It will imply that we've been negligent in releasing him, and will probably put the blame on me.

“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate your support. Yes, I agree. There's a leak somewhere, or Haeggman wouldn't have been willing to stake his reputation on Stillen being Grendel. I've questioned our team and I'm confident they're not the source. I'd appreciate any suggestions you or Herr Malmer have about where else to look.”

Ekman was uncertain whether Norlander had picked up on the reference to Malmer. He'd have to see what action he took.

He thought for a moment about who else to call and then phoned Edvardsson. After he alerted her to the story, he called Rystrom.

“Garth, the proverbial shit will hit the fan tomorrow, but don't worry, it looks like it will spatter mostly on me. Haeggman will be attacking us on the release of Stillen. And he's identifying him as Grendel. I just spoke with Norlander and Edvardsson, so they won't be surprised when they're asked to comment on the story, as I'm sure they will be.

“Yes, it means we haven't plugged the leak. And no, I can't think of anyone else, except perhaps Malmer. He dislikes me enough, but he'd be taking a huge risk it would eventually come out. It's a possibility, but he's always struck me as too cautious to do something like this. Actually, ‘cowardly' is the word I had in mind.

“Thanks, Garth. See you Monday. Try and avoid the reporters until then.”

Now Ekman had to make the most difficult call of all: he had to speak with Ingbritt.

“No, it's all right. I can take it. Don't worry about me. I knew you'd be upset if you just picked up the paper tomorrow, without any warning. Yes, I'll try and control my temper. You know me, always calm.” He heard her burst of laughter.

“Yes, we'll get through this, and then you'll be home again. I love you, too.”

A
t home, knowing what the morning would bring, Ekman decided to treat himself to a couple of glasses of French brandy before trying to sleep. The brandy was good, but it didn't help.

65

Front Page

S
unday, October 23.
The call woke Ekman at six thirty
A.M
.

“Herr Ekman? This is Hans Erlander with TV2 News. I apologize for calling you so early on Sunday, but we wanted to get your reaction for our morning program to the story in today's
Sydsvenka Nyheter
. It calls Carl Stillen your prime suspect as the cannibal Grendel. Do you have any comment? We're taping this conversation, by the way, for broadcast.”

Ekman was glad he'd been told his comments were being recorded. He'd been just about to respond with a choice expletive. Instead, with every bit of self-restraint he could muster, he replied in a slow, quiet voice.

“Herr Erlander, I appreciate your asking for my reaction to this newspaper story. I can only say that there is an ongoing police investigation and Herr Stillen is simply wanted for additional questioning. Any story that leaps to a conclusion about him is simply misleading and exploitative. I have no further comment.” He hung up softly.

Ekman felt proud of his self-control then. He wished he could feel that way now.

He was sitting at the kitchen table half an hour later, his teeth tearing at a slice of toast spread with apricot preserves, while he alternately sipped steaming black coffee, his face becoming a steadily deeper shade of red as he read Haeggman's front-page story.

The headline across the top blared: “POLICE SET MANIAC LOOSE.” Immediately below was the photo of Carl Stillen, labeled “GRENDEL???”

Stillen was depicted as the prime suspect in the hunt for the self-proclaimed cannibal, Grendel. It described how he'd been brought in by the police, questioned and released. Then, apparently fearing arrest, Stillen had fled, and the police had to appeal to the media and the public to help recover a man they'd described as “dangerous and possibly armed.” The story boiled down to a denunciation of the police as bumbling idiots.

Ekman was singled-out by name as the chief idiot. The story placed the blame indirectly on him for any killings by Grendel.

Crumpling the paper, he got up and threw it in the waste bin. I'd like to flush it down the toilet, where it really belongs, he thought.

The phone rang. The caller ID said it was another newspaper. He let it ring. This was supposed to be a day to think of the next steps. But first, he needed to try and relax a little. It was impossible. Whoever was leaking these stories was trying, fairly successfully, to destroy the reputation it'd taken him thirty years of hard work to build. Ekman had had to develop a thick skin over that time, but he'd never had to deal with a concerted effort to discredit him.

66

Review

I
n his study he paced the length of the room and back again. If I keep this up, he thought, I'll wear out the rug. But nervous energy kept him walking as he tried to look at the case from the very beginning.

From a deranged letter threatening violence, it'd grown into at least one definite murder, with possibly as many as four others, if he included the two thieves. The sole suspects were Lindfors, and Stillen, who'd now taken off. Was the paper's story right? Was Stillen Grendel?

Although there was no hard evidence, he was linked to Lindfors, and through her to the vanished men. Lindfors was connected to Westberg, and the computer they'd found in the storage room originated the e-mails, photos and chess games tying her to the other two missing men. Without the computer they had only the evidence on the men's machines. But everything found on the computer could have been created by someone posing as Lindfors. And inspecting her car had turned up nothing.

All right, Ekman thought, back to basics. Lindfors was intimately involved with Rodger Westberg, his father, and Stillen. That'd been proven. And Grendel was not simply a crank letter writer; he existed and was a killer. That also had been proven. But what Ekman had seen of Stillen didn't convince him he could be Grendel. Rystrom was right: he wasn't smart enough.

Let's assume for argument's sake, he thought, that Stillen was running now because he was afraid of being framed, not because he was a murderer. That meant that either Lindfors was Grendel, or there was somebody else out there. However, it couldn't be Lindfors, because DNA from the original letter had shown it was a man. The only conclusion this train of thought led to was that Grendel was an unknown person who'd tried to implicate Lindfors by planting the computer they'd uncovered, and through her, make it appear that Stillen was Grendel.

If that were true, they were both innocent of murder, even if they'd been scheming to get their hands on Westberg's money. They hadn't done anything illegal, although their ethics and morality were questionable. But that wasn't his concern.