Still Waters (Sandhamn Murders Book 1) (12 page)

T
UESDAY, THE THIRD WEEK

C
HAPTER
27

Thomas stared at the preliminary autopsy report, which had been sent over to Nacka by the pathologist.

It described the body of a female, medium height, normal build, whose death had occurred sometime between five and ten on Saturday morning.

According to the report, the woman had received a blow to the right temple. This blow had resulted in internal bleeding around the temple and right eye, with some damage to the skin. The left-hand side of the back of the head had also sustained damage; it had been struck at an angle and from below the victim with considerable force. The attacker had used something hard and pointed. There was evidence of limited bleeding just behind the right ear. A major hemorrhage had occurred in the brain; this was likely the cause of death, but there had also been a number of hemorrhages in the chest cavity and stomach, as well as inside the mouth and pharynx. Traces of blood had been found in the intestines.

He continued reading the clinical text. It was hard to believe that it concerned a human being, a flesh-and-blood individual who had laughed and loved and appreciated life. If that had been the case, he thought, remembering her apartment in Bandhagen.

Samples of blood, urine, aqueous humor from the eye, and a liver biopsy had been taken and would be sent to the National Forensics Laboratory in Linköping as soon as possible, with a request for priority analysis.

He suddenly stopped reading.

The report stated that the cause of death could not be established beyond doubt. It had not been possible to ascertain what had caused the extensive internal bleeding.

Kicki Berggren had probably been killed by hemorrhage in her brain, caused by either the blow to her temple or the back of her head. But there was no explanation for her other internal bleeding. There had to be more to this.

Thomas knew from experience that forensics hated sending a report that contained so many question marks. When there was no logical explanation for the injuries found, this was meticulously spelled out. It was then up to the police to conduct a thorough investigation in order to find the cause.

Thomas frowned. Now they would have to wait for Linköping to see if there was an answer in the tissue samples. That would take at least four or five days—if they were lucky.

In his frustration, he managed to knock over his cup of tea, and the hot liquid quickly spread across his desk. As he tried to stem the flow with a napkin that was far too small, he felt more uncertain than ever about where the investigation was heading. He was also worn out. He had slept for a little while on the boat, but it had been hard getting up at five thirty to catch the first ferry back to Stockholm.

It had been almost midnight by the time he got the investigative team over to Jonny’s house, so he hadn’t had much sleep. Admittedly he wasn’t someone who needed eight hours every night, but he could certainly feel how tired he was today.

He went to the washroom and splashed cold water on his face. It didn’t help much, but it made him feel slightly better. He picked up the report and headed for the conference room.

Persson was already in his usual seat, with Carina next to him. She smiled at Thomas when he glanced at her. He was struck by how pretty she was in the sunlight filtering in through the window. She also looked cheerful, in sharp contrast to his other colleagues, whose gloomy expressions no doubt mirrored his own. Kalle was sitting next to Carina, with Erik opposite her.

A speakerphone was in the middle of the table. Thomas guessed that Margit had been called, despite the fact that she had just started her vacation. But at least this meant she didn’t have to abandon her family and travel all the way back to Stockholm.

Persson took a sip of coffee and cleared his throat. “Thomas, can you start us off? What have we got?”

Thomas held up the autopsy report. “We have a woman who has been subjected to physical violence, although not of a particularly excessive nature, according to the report. She received a blow to the back of her head and another to her right temple. The blow to her temple was not fatal and was comparatively light, and since the blood vessels are close to the surface around the eye, the injury looks much more serious than it actually was. She also suffered internal bleeding, which does not appear to have been caused by the assault.”

“So what was the cause of death?” Persson was looking impatiently at Thomas.

“According to the pathologist, she appears to have suffered a brain hemorrhage as a consequence of the back of her head coming into contact with something hard, either because she fell or because someone hit her. It could be a combination of both. The autopsy doesn’t tell us whether death occurred as a result of violence or a fall, for example. And as I said, there is no explanation for the internal bleeding, so a number of samples have been sent to Linköping for analysis.” Thomas fell silent. He had tried to relay the contents of the report as accurately as possible, but it wasn’t easy. “It is highly likely that the injuries were sustained in Jonny Almhult’s house; we found her jacket there, and there were traces of blood on a radiator in his living room. If the blood turns out to be Kicki Berggren’s, that could explain the injury to the back of the head. Somehow she got back to the Mission House, where she was found the following morning.”

Suddenly the telephone crackled to life. Margit was trying to make herself heard. “Have I got this right? Kicki Berggren was assaulted, but we don’t know if it was fatal? She has major internal bleeding which can’t be explained? Can I ask what we actually
do
know?” Margit snapped.

Thomas tried to provide a chronological account. “We believe Kicki arrived on Sandhamn shortly after one o’clock last Friday. We’ve spoken to one of the girls in the kiosk who remembers her, and according to the timetable, a ferry comes in at that time. Kicki asked about somewhere to stay, and it appeared she had just arrived on the island. The girl suggested the Mission House. Since Kicki’s injuries must have been sustained at a later stage, the person who attacked her must also have been on the island.”

“Are there any witnesses who saw her with anyone?” Margit asked.

For a moment her question was drowned out by the sound of children laughing. She was obviously outdoors, probably on the beach.

“We’ve spoken to the staff in all the cafés and restaurants, and no one recognized her,” Thomas said. “But there are a couple of people who only work weekends, and they won’t be back until Friday. I’ve got their phone numbers. I haven’t managed to get ahold of them yet, but I’ll try again when we finish here.” He flexed his left foot, which boasted a huge blister—the result of tramping back and forth all over Sandhamn. “We’ve also knocked on the door of virtually every house on the island, but we haven’t found anyone who saw her. Not so far, anyway.”

Persson scratched his throat. He had a large, angry red mosquito bite just above his left collarbone. “Do we have any idea why this Almhult might have hit her?” He looked at Thomas.

“We don’t even know if it was Jonny Almhult. He’s disappeared, and we haven’t managed to track him down.” Thomas held up a photograph of Jonny Almhult; it showed a man with weak features and brown eyes. He had a broad nose, and his dark hair needed cutting. His face was tanned and freckled.

“He’s never been violent toward women before, as far as we know. He doesn’t have a criminal record. According to his mother, he’s pretty lonely and a little shy. She’s at her wits’ end; she has no idea what’s going on. The last contact she had with him was on Saturday, when he had either been drinking or had a bad hangover.” Thomas paused. “Erik spoke to Almhult two days ago, on Sunday morning, but he claimed he didn’t recognize Kicki’s photograph—isn’t that right, Erik?”

Erik nodded. “Exactly. I was only there for a couple minutes. He wasn’t looking too good; he seemed pretty hungover. When I asked whether he’d had any contact with Berggren, he said he didn’t know who she was. Then he apologized and said he wasn’t feeling well, so I left.” Erik looked unhappy, as if he were reproaching himself because he hadn’t realized that he ought to have questioned Almhult more closely.

“I’ve known of Jonny Almhult since I was a teenager,” Thomas said, “and there’s never been anything suspect about him. There is no obvious reason why Jonny would suddenly pick up a total stranger and start knocking her around.”

“You say she was a stranger, but we don’t actually know whether they already knew each other,” Persson said as he carried on scratching the mosquito bite, which was now bleeding slightly.

“No, you’re right,” Thomas said. “I’ve checked Kicki Berggren’s apartment, and there’s no trace of anything that might explain what’s happened. We haven’t found anything linking her to Sandhamn or Jonny Almhult, apart from the fact that she visited the ferry company’s website.”

The speakerphone crackled again. “What about her colleagues? Was there anyone at work who had a grudge against her?”

“I’ve spoken to the company that runs the casino. She’d worked there for over fifteen years. They didn’t have much to say—she did her job, didn’t take any more sick leave than anyone else, and was generally regarded as honest and reliable.” He looked down at his notebook where he had jotted down the salient points from his telephone conversation with Kicki Berggren’s boss, a miserable man who had shown little interest, in spite of the fact that one of his employees had been murdered. “The only thing unusual, as I understand it, is that she’d worked there for such a long time. Most croupiers pack it in after five or six years. It’s not the kind of profession people stick with, at least not if they have a family. The hours are terrible—evenings only, and late nights, of course. Nor is the working environment all that great.”

“She’d spent some time in Kos recently, hadn’t she?” Persson asked, leaning forward to grab a cookie.

“Yes. She asked for a four-month leave of absence on very short notice,” Thomas said. “The casino where she worked was due to be renovated at the same time, so her employer was happy to agree. Otherwise they would have had to find her a temporary post elsewhere because she had a permanent contract with them.”

“I’m just wondering whether there might be some connection between her place of work and her cousin’s. Neither the gambling world nor the alcohol trade are exactly whiter than white,” Margit said.

Thomas leaned forward so that she could hear him more clearly. “What are you thinking, Margit?”

“Krister Berggren worked for Systemet. I’m just wondering whether there might be a link there. Something to do with smuggling booze or drugs, perhaps? Possibly with a Greek angle?”

“Or the former Yugoslavia.” Kalle straightened up, his face slightly pink with the excitement of having spoken up. “The Yugoslav mafia might be mixed up in this.”

“I think that might be taking things a little far,” Margit said, “but what if Krister Berggren was involved in something illegal at Systemet, and his cousin was helping him out? He could have been dragged into something. Or perhaps he was trying to put an end to it. Kicki Berggren might have known about whatever it was or been mixed up in it, too. I mean, a great deal has happened within Systemet in recent years that wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny.”

“Some illegal scheme that meant he had to go over to Sandhamn, then she followed him,” Kalle chimed in.

“Something along those lines,” Margit said. “Thomas, you met her—what was your impression of her?”

Thomas closed his eyes and thought about Kicki. The image of a lonely, disappointed woman with good intentions came to mind. They had talked for about half an hour. She had seemed genuinely upset about her cousin’s death. And surprised. “She said they were close, but she hadn’t spoken to Krister once during all the time she’d been in Kos. They didn’t seem to have had any contact for months. I found a postcard from her in his apartment, asking him to call her.” Thomas flipped through his notebook to refresh his memory. “I didn’t really get a satisfactory explanation as to why they hadn’t been in touch. We started talking about his mother’s death instead; evidently Krister had taken it very badly. It seemed to be a possible explanation for suicide.” He fell silent for a moment. “I should have asked more questions.”

Persson leaned back in his chair, which creaked in protest. His thighs spilled over the edges of the seat, and his round face was tanned by the summer sun. “If we assume for a moment that this involves smuggling, what would that have to do with Sandhamn?”

“Wasn’t there some drugs case out there years ago?” Margit asked.

Thomas glanced around the table at his colleagues. “There was. I was only a little boy at the time, but there was a hell of a fuss. The Yacht Club restaurant was owned by a notorious guy named Fleming Broman. It turned out he had been spending his days serving food and his nights peddling drugs. It was a huge scandal, and the drugs squad was out in full force when they finally realized what was going on.”

Thomas recalled the placards outside the newsagent’s on his way home from school, the thick black headlines.

And now it was happening again.

“Do you think we could be looking at another drugs case?”

“It’s more likely to be booze,” Persson said. “If there was a way into Systemet via Krister Berggren, his cousin could have been involved as well. But that still doesn’t answer my question about the link with Sandhamn.”

Margit’s voice came from the speakerphone again. “Let’s assume Kicki Berggren knew her cousin was involved in smuggling alcohol to or from Systemet in some way. She comes home and finds out he’s dead. If she knows who his contact is, perhaps she decides to go and see him, either to exact revenge or to demand money, which is far more likely. If this person has property on Sandhamn, it would be logical to go over there, wouldn’t it? It’s the middle of summer, after all, and that’s also where her cousin’s body was found. And if this contact person murdered Krister because he was afraid of being exposed, then he might have killed Kicki as well.”

Thomas linked his hands behind his head and gave the suggestion some thought. “Kicki’s stay in Greece might be totally irrelevant, but the trip to Sandhamn is key,” he said. “In which case, Krister Berggren might have been found on the western shore because he too went over to Sandhamn to meet his accomplice over Easter, when he disappeared.”