Leif Gustav Willy Persson
Free Falling, As If in a Dream
Falling Freely, As If In A Dream
The third book in the Story of a Crime series
© 2007 by Leif GW Persson.
Translated from the Swedish by Paul Norlen 2014.
To Mikael and the Bear
Regardless of whether truth is absolute or relative, and quite apart from the fact that many of us constantly seek it, in the end it is still hidden from almost all of us. As a rule out of necessity, and if for no other reason out of concern for those who wouldn’t understand anyway. There is no law of public access with regard to the truth. We have a practical problem that we have to solve, and it’s no more difficult than that.
– The Professor
Map
Witness One (W1) is on Tunnelgatan when he catches sight of the murderer, who he runs after, up the steps to Malmskillnadsgatan where he meets Witness Two (W2), who has seen a man running down David Bagares gata. Witnesses Three and Four (W3, W4) have seen a man turn to the left onto Regeringsgatan. A fifth witness, the “Cartoonist” (C) saw a man running through Smala gränd and out onto Birger Jarlsgatan.
Image source © Kartena AB
Witness Madeleine Nilsson (MN) claims on the other hand to have met a suspicious man on the stairs between Malmskillnadsgatan and Kungsgatan, which suggests a completely different escape route.
Wednesday, October 10. The harbor in Puerto Pollensa on north Mallorca
Just before seven o’clock in the morning Esperanza left her usual place at the charter pier in the harbor. A beautiful little boat with a beautiful name.
1
Eight weeks earlier, Wednesday, August 15.
Headquarters of the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation on Kungsholmen in Stockholm
“Olof Palme,” said the chief of the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation, Lars Martin Johansson. “Are you familiar with that name, ladies and gentlemen?”
For some reason he seemed almost joyful as he said it. Just back from vacation with a becoming suntan, red suspenders, and linen shirt with no tie as a lighthearted signal of the transition from relaxation to responsibility. He leaned forward in his seat at the short end of the conference table, letting his gaze wander across the four others gathered around the same table.
The joy seemed to be his alone. Doubtful looks were exchanged among three of the four-Police Superintendent Anna Holt, Detective Chief Inspector Jan Lewin, and Detective Chief Inspector Lisa Mattei-while the fourth in the group, Chief Inspector Yngve Flykt, who was head of the Palme group, seemed if anything embarrassed by the question and tried to compensate by looking politely preoccupied.
“Olof Palme,” Johansson repeated, his voice now sounding more urgent. “Does that ring any bells?”
The one who finally answered was Lisa Mattei, the youngest of the group, but long accustomed to the role of best in class. First she glanced at the head of the Palme investigation, who only nodded and looked tired, then she looked down at her notepad, which incidentally was free of any notes or the doodling with which she usually filled it, whatever was being discussed. Then in two sentences she summarized Olof Palme’s political career, and in four sentences his end.
“Olof Palme,” said Mattei. “Social Democrat and Sweden’s most well-known politician during the postwar period. Prime minister for two terms, from 1969 to 1976 and from 1982 to 1986. Was murdered at the intersection of Sveavägen and Tunnelgatan in central Stockholm twenty-one years, five months, and fourteen days ago. It was Friday the twenty-eighth of February 1986, twenty minutes past eleven. He was shot from behind with one shot and appears to have died almost immediately. I was eleven years old when it happened, so I’m afraid I don’t have much more to contribute,” Mattei concluded.
“Don’t say that,” said Johansson with a Norrland drawl. “Our victim was the prime minister and a fine fellow, and how common is this kind of crime victim at this sort of place? True, I’m only the head of the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation, but I’m also an orderly person and extremely allergic to unsolved cases,” he continued. “I take them personally, if you’re wondering why you’re here.”
No one had wondered about that. No one seemed particularly enthusiastic either. Regardless, the whole thing started as it almost always does, with a few police officers sitting around a table, talking about a case. No flashing lights, no sirens, and definitely no drawn service revolvers. Although when the crime happened, over twenty years ago, it had started with flashing lights, sirens, and drawn service revolvers. Nothing had helped. The case had ended badly.
Johansson elaborated on his ideas about what ought to be done, the motive for doing it, and how it should all be arranged in practical terms. As so often before, he also relied on his personal experience without the slightest trace of either genuine or false modesty.
“In my personal experience, when a case has come to a standstill so to speak, it’s often worth calling in some new folks who can look at the case with fresh eyes. It’s easy to overlook things,” said Johansson.
“I hear you,” Anna Holt answered, sounding more sarcastic than she intended. “But if you’ll excuse-”
“Sure,” Johansson interrupted. “Just let me finish my sentence first.”
“I’m listening,” said Holt. I never learn, she thought.
“When you’re starting to get up in years like me, unfortunately the risk increases that you don’t remember what you meant to say, if you get interrupted, that is,” Johansson explained. “Where was I now?” he continued.
“How you intended to organize the whole thing, boss,” Mattei interjected. “Our investigation, that is,” she clarified.
“Thanks, Lisa,” said Johansson. “Thanks for helping an old man.”
How does he do it? thought Holt. Even with Lisa of all people?
According to Johansson it was not a question of forming a new Palme investigation, and the investigators who were already in the Palme group-several of whom had spent almost their entire active time as detectives there-would of course retain sole responsibility.
“So I want to make that clear from the start, Yngve,” said Johansson, nodding at the head of the Palme group, who still seemed more worried than relieved.
“No way,” said Johansson. “You can forget any such ideas. I’ve imagined something a lot simpler and more informal. What I want simply is a second opinion. Not a new investigation. Just a second opinion from a few wise officers who can look at the case with fresh eyes.
“I want you to go through the investigation,” he continued. “Is there anything we haven’t done that we should have done? Is there anything in the material itself that we’ve missed and that’s worth looking into? That can still be looked into? If so, I want to know about it, and it’s no more difficult than that.”
Regardless of his hopes on the last point, the following hour was devoted to discussing objections from three of the four others in the room. The only one who didn’t say anything was Lisa Mattei, but when their meeting was over, her notepad was as full of scribbling as always. Partly with what her colleagues had said. Partly with her usual doodling regardless of what was being said.