Peder suddenly realised why Alex sounded so stressed.
‘You’re about to arrest a suspect, aren’t you?’
He heard a rustling sound at the other end of the line.
‘I’ll call you,’ Alex said. ‘Bye.’
And he was gone.
Peder sat in his office with his coffee, still convinced that he was right.
Two killers had shared the same gun, but not the same vision. He didn’t even want to contemplate what consequences that might have for the way in which the story currently being played out in Stockholm might end.
It was late afternoon by the time the police went to pick up Saul Goldmann. He was under surveillance, so they were well prepared for any sudden movement or an attempt to leave town. But nothing happened; he was arrested at work, where he had been all afternoon.
Alex Recht decided to stay at Police HQ; he was going to conduct the first interview with Saul, and wanted to make sure he was absolutely ready.
Fredrika had written a summary of what Gideon Eisenberg’s parents had told her, and she had managed to send it to him before she boarded the plane in Tel Aviv.
Mona Samson was still notable by her absence. Alex was annoyed that she had managed to slip under the radar before they realised she was involved. Perhaps she was hiding wherever they were holding Polly Eisenberg. Perhaps she too was being held against her will. But in that case the question of who had been lying on the roof still remained; it certainly wasn’t Saul Goldmann, because he was taller than the indentation in the snow suggested.
At the same time as Saul was being arrested, a search would be carried out at his home and his office. The prosecutor had agreed only when they were able to prove that Saul’s mobile had been in Östermalm when Saul claimed he had been in Kungsholmen.
Alex leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he made a mental list of what he was hoping they would find.
A pair of size 43 boots. Or something that would reveal how the boys had been transported, perhaps a receipt for a hire car or something similar. Their attempts to find out whether a person by the name of Zalman had rented a car in Stockholm around the time of the murders had proved fruitless.
But most of all Alex wanted to find the murder weapon.
The prosecutor had been very clear. Without a confession or further proof, he would never be able to take it to court.
A confession seemed highly unlikely, but they ought to be able to find further proof.
Otherwise it would be back to square one, and in that case Alex had no idea how they were going to save Polly Eisenberg.
At first glance Saul Goldmann didn’t appear to be particularly bothered by the situation, although he had requested the presence of his lawyer throughout the interview.
‘Do you understand why you’re here?’ Alex began.
‘Because for some unknown reason you think I killed not only my own son, but his friend as well. It’s an utterly ridiculous idea, and I hope we can clear this up as quickly as possible.’
Alex studied him closely.
His facial features were as neat and tidy as the clothes he wore. He seemed to be handling his son’s death much better than his wife, who had broken down completely as she watched her husband being led out of the office.
‘You say your own son,’ Alex said, ‘but he wasn’t yours, was he?’
He rarely opened an interview with a straight right, but this time he had decided to go for it.
Saul Goldmann couldn’t hide his surprise. His lawyer gave him a quizzical look, but said nothing.
‘What? Of course he was my son.’
‘According to our information, that isn’t the case. You had a vasectomy many years ago.’
‘I’m sorry, but I really don’t see what this has to do with anything.’
‘Then you’d better think again, because obviously we are interested in your relationship to the child we suspect you killed.’
Alex could see that Saul was already seething, which was a good thing. Those who lost control were often the easiest to manipulate, even if they would never admit it themselves.
‘Abraham was my boy,’ Saul said, emphasising every word. ‘I loved him deeply, and I am bereft without him.’
His voice held until the very last word, then broke. Alex wasn’t sure whether that was down to grief or anger.
‘Who’s the Paper Boy?’ he said.
‘You asked me that the last time we met.’
‘And now I’m asking you again. Who’s the Paper Boy?’
Saul’s expression was defiant.
‘An Israeli myth.’
‘Invented by whom?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Who first told you the story?’
‘I can’t remember.’
‘Did he really exist?’
‘No, as I’ve already told you, he was an imaginary figure.’
Alex leaned back in his chair.
‘My colleague is currently on her way back from Israel, where she visited the kibbutz where you and Gideon Eisenberg grew up.’
The colour drained from Saul’s face.
‘Are you sure the Paper Boy didn’t exist in reality?’
Saul blinked, but said nothing.
Patience was an undervalued virtue when it came to interviewing a suspect. Alex allowed time to work for him and wondered how long it would be before Saul gave in. As expected, it didn’t take many minutes.
‘I assume you want me to say that my father was the Paper Boy.’
‘Wasn’t he?’
‘No. It was just something we made up as kids.’
‘But he did abduct and kill children?’
Saul sighed.
‘Yes.’
‘How was he caught?’
There was another long silence, and Saul’s expression changed. He scratched his forehead and let out a low groan.
‘This is pure fantasy. You know that Gideon was my father’s last victim, and you think I attacked his child as an act of revenge. And that I killed my own son as well because I’m not his biological father.’
He shook his head wearily.
Alex refused to lose heart.
‘Good guess,’ he said. ‘But I’m afraid it only covers part of our theory. Where were you when Simon and Abraham disappeared on their way to the tennis centre?’
‘I’ve already told you – in a business meeting with Mona Samson from Samson Security.’
‘And where was this?’
‘In her apartment on Hantverkargatan.’
‘Why were you in the apartment instead of her office?’
‘Because I was in Kungsholmen anyway.’
‘So she stayed at home rather than going into work, just so that she could meet you?’
‘She said she could just as easily work from home.’
‘But you’ve been to the office on Torsgatan?’
‘Yes.’
‘How did you get to know one another, you and Mona Samson?’
Saul shifted in his seat and glanced at his lawyer, who still hadn’t said a word.
‘We met at a conference in Brussels last spring.’
Classic.
‘How would you describe your relationship?’
Saul’s expression grew wary.
‘Professional.’
‘And that’s all?’
‘Yes.’
Really?
It was Alex’s turn to sigh.
‘I’m going to give you one more chance to answer my question. Where were you when Simon and Abraham disappeared on their way to the tennis centre?’
Saul leaned forward across the table.
‘I was in Kungsholmen with Mona Samson.’
Alex also leaned forward, meeting Saul halfway.
‘How come you rang Mona Samson at three o’clock that afternoon?’
A rapid blink, but otherwise Saul remained impassive.
‘I can’t answer that.’
‘Can’t or won’t?’
‘Can’t.’
‘Because?’
A thin smile played around Saul’s lips.
‘Because I’d left my phone at home that day. Abraham might have used it and called the wrong number by mistake. Or it could have been my wife. I don’t know, because I wasn’t at home.’
Fuck.
But Alex hadn’t finished.