‘Him and Farshad knew each other,’ Sneaker said.
‘You’re grasping at straws there, Sneaker. What the hell makes you think that?’ he said. What the fuck is the fucker saying? he thought.
‘I’m getting to that,’ Sneaker said. ‘So, when Roly and his mate Danielsson said goodbye, after we’d met out at Valla, I mean, I suddenly remember that I’d seen him earlier that day. Around lunchtime. I was coming down Råsundavägen, minding my own business, thinking I might go and grab a bit of pizza. And who do I see thirty meters down the road, standing talking to some old bloke at the corner of Hasselstigen? Twenty meters from where I’m standing?’
‘I’m listening.’
‘Farshad Ibrahim,’ Sneaker said.
‘And you know him?’
‘Do I know him! We’ve done time in the same place. Shared a corridor in Hall ten years ago. If you don’t believe me I’m sure you can look it up on your computer. The very same, Farshad Ibrahim, and there isn’t a worse fucker alive than that man.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘I turned on my heel,’ Sneaker said. ‘Farshad’s the type who kills people just to be on the safe side, and if he was up to his usual shit, then I didn’t want to get mixed up in it just because I wanted to get a bit of pizza.’
‘You’re sure the man he was talking to was Kalle Danielsson?’
‘A hundred and twenty,’ Sneaker said, nodding. ‘A hundred and twenty percent,’ he clarified.
‘How can you be so sure?’ Toivonen persisted.
‘Because that’s how I make my money,’ Sneaker said.
‘I hear what you’re saying,’ Toivonen said. How the hell I am going to escape Bäckström if this is true? he thought.
‘What do you say about a thousand?’ Sneaker said.
‘What do you say about a twenty?’ Toivonen said.
‘Meet you halfway,’ Sneaker suggested, apparently not hurt by this.
‘That makes two hundred,’ Toivonen said.
‘If you say so,’ Sneaker said, shrugging.
41.
While Toivonen was having his confidential chat with Sneaker, Bäckström was holding an extra meeting with his investigating team as a result of the murder of Septimus Akofeli.
As usual, Niemi had begun the meeting. He had accompanied the body to the Institute of Forensic Medicine while Chico Hernandez took another colleague back to Akofeli’s flat to do the forensic examination. Now they were both in the room.
‘He was strangled,’ Niemi said. ‘That was the single cause of death. Otherwise there are no injuries to the body. He was completely naked, by the way. Strangled with a noose that was tied at the back of the neck, the marks from the knot are still there. If you ask me, I’d say he was conscious and was taken by surprise when it happened.’
‘Why do you think that?’ Annika Carlsson said.
‘He’s got marks on his fingers. The sort you get when you’re trying to untie a noose. For instance, a couple of the nails are broken, even though he had very short nails.’
‘What sort of noose do you think it was?’ Bäckström said.
‘As far as the noose is concerned — and we haven’t found it, of course — it seems to have been fairly narrow. It could be anything from a sturdy shoelace, a washing line, maybe a standard electric cable, even the cord from some blinds. Personally I’d say the thinner type of electric cable.’
‘Why?’ Annika Carlsson asked.
‘Because that would be best,’ Niemi said with a wry smile. ‘Easiest to tighten. You just pull it tight and knot it, and it stays tight, and you’re done.’
‘You mean this was done by a professional?’ Alm said.
‘Don’t know,’ Niemi said, shrugging. ‘But I don’t really think so. How many professional stranglers have we got in this country? All the commandos and Special Forces, and the Yugoslavs who made such a mess of the Balkans. Well, according to them, anyway, but they seem to be able to keep their fingers under control here at home.
‘The perpetrator is seriously strong. He’s taller than Akofeli, I can tell you that much,’ Niemi said.
‘Like whoever killed Danielsson,’ Bäckström said.
‘Yes, the same thought struck me,’ Niemi said.
‘What about time of death?’ Bäckström said.
‘I’d guess the same day he disappeared,’ Niemi said. ‘In other words, Friday, May sixteenth, sometime that morning, afternoon, or evening.’
‘Why do you say that?’ Bäckström said.
‘Not that we have any evidence on the body to confirm that. But that’s the way it usually is these days. When they stop using their phones, when they don’t turn up for work, don’t use their bank cards, when their usual routine is broken. That’s when something’s happened. It’s nearly always like that,’ Niemi said, nodding emphatically.
So the bastard Finn isn’t entirely stupid, thought Bäckström, who had been using the same rule of thumb for thirty years.
‘The body’s in good condition,’ Niemi went on. ‘Strangled, naked, folded up, wrapped in black plastic and sealed up with ordinary duct tape, then stuffed into his own newspaper cart. The plastic is from three different bags, normal black bin bags. The duct tape is standard issue, about five centimeters wide. I think it all happened at once. Before rigor mortis set in. The bag was also weighted down. Four barbell weights, five kilos each, twenty in total, taped together with the same duct tape. Since Akofeli weighed about fifty kilos, the weights twenty, and the bag about ten — you’ll get an exact weight as soon as it’s dried out — we’re talking about a total weight in the region of eighty kilos.’
‘Car,’ Alm said. ‘The body was driven by car from the scene of the crime to where it was found.’
‘Anything else is extremely unlikely,’ Niemi agreed. ‘I read an interesting little article the other day, in the Journal of Forensic Science, about perpetrators who dump their victims in the open. It’s very unusual for anyone to carry or drag a body more than seventy-five meters.’
‘What about if they have a cart or wheelbarrow?’ Bäckström asked.
‘A few hundred meters at most,’ Niemi said. ‘For longer journeys, the cart and body are usually both transported in a vehicle.’
‘What about the crime scene, then?’
‘You mean Akofeli’s apartment at seventeen Fornbyvägen?’ Niemi said, exchanging a quick glance with Hernandez.
‘We were there again this morning,’ Hernandez said. ‘We didn’t find anything this time either, but considering the way he was killed, it could still perfectly well be the scene of the crime, even though we can’t find any evidence. Besides, there are other circumstances that suggest that.’
‘Such as?’ Alm said.
‘The newspaper cart, which in all likelihood belonged to the victim, and the weights, which were used as ballast. We’re pretty sure they belonged to the victim. He’s got one of those exercise benches, a barbell, and a pair of dumbbells. But surprisingly few weights for the barbell.’
Bäckström nodded.
‘Well, I never.’
‘Left in the apartment, I mean,’ Hernandez clarified.
‘Distance,’ Bäckström said.
‘From the victim’s apartment to where he was found it’s about ten kilometers, and you can drive almost the whole way. Right up to those rocks at the edge of the shore. The ones at the top of that hill. From there there’s a gravel track down to the shore, thirty meters. A drop of thirteen meters.’
‘But you aren’t allowed to drive there,’ Annika Carlsson said.
‘Not unless you’re a police officer or work for the highways agency or the parks authority, or you’re a laborer there on a job. But if you come from the southeast — from the direction facing Kungsholmen, that is — driving is permitted almost the whole way to where the body was found. Apart from a walk of a hundred meters. Uphill, admittedly, but even so.’ Hernandez shrugged demonstratively.