‘And the name of the client?’
‘I don’t honestly know.’
‘You don’t know?’
Fredrika heard a sigh at the other end of the line.
‘We questioned the arrangement in the beginning, but then we asked ourselves what was the point? I mean, it was hardly likely to be some kind of criminal activity, and the payment was always made on time. Naturally, we were curious, I mean Thea Aldrin is quite well known, but…’
His voice died away.
Fredrika’s brain kicked into gear. Someone sent flowers to Thea Aldrin every Saturday. Anonymously. Payment in cash by a third party.
‘You don’t have any contact details for the client?’ she asked. ‘A telephone number, an email address, anything at all?’
‘Just a minute.’
She heard the rustle of papers; the owner was soon back on the line.
‘We do actually have a mobile number. We insisted. We have to be able to contact someone if we can’t make the delivery.’
Fredrika’s heart rate doubled.
‘Could you possibly give me the number? That would be enormously helpful.’
57
Things would have to be done in the right order, otherwise everything would go to hell in a handcart. First of all, Alex sent the film and the projector to the forensic pathologist by courier.
‘Sit down in a darkened room and watch this disgusting crap,’ Alex said over the phone. ‘Then call me back and tell me what you think.’
If the girl in the grave was the same girl who had died in the film, there was suddenly a clearer connection between the murders. First of all someone was killed on film, then others died so that the secret would be kept.
But what secret?
Alex found Janne Bergwall in his office. It was obvious that his colleague was living on borrowed time, so to speak. The walls were virtually covered with a selection of diplomas, newspaper articles and other souvenirs that Bergwall had collected over the years. Alex glanced at them; it was clear that none of the documents bore witness to some kind of impressive feat, which fitted in perfectly with his impression of Bergwall. He was a man who could fall through the ice hundreds of times during his life, and never drown or freeze to death. It was as if he sought out the spots where the ice was at its thinnest so that he would be sure of hearing that familiar crack.
But this time he had stepped onto thin ice once too often.
Alex didn’t feel the need to waste time introducing himself; instead, he put his energy into explaining why he was there.
‘Rebecca Trolle,’ he said. ‘The girl whose dismembered body we found in Midsommarkransen.’
Bergwall looked at him through narrowed eyes.
‘Yes?’
‘I believe she came to see you.’
‘Maybe.’
Alex took a deep breath.
‘No, not maybe. We’re a long way past the point where you can carry on keeping quiet about this. The girl is dead, and I want to know how she ended up in a grave with two other people who had been there for decades.’
He sat down opposite Bergwall, who was looking less than happy. His face was marked by the passing of the years, marked by the problems for which no one was to blame but himself.
‘Start talking. When did she come to see you, and what did you tell her?’
Bergwall closed his eyes for a second, as if he wanted to shut Alex out while he made his decision.
When he opened his eyes, his expression was unreadable.
‘I didn’t think the girl would come to any harm.’
But she did, didn’t she?
Alex kept quiet.
‘She came to see me after she’d spoken to Torbjörn Ross. She’d gone through the notes from the preliminary investigation relating to Thea Aldrin and the murder of her ex, and she’d found Ross’s name there. I think he was probably the only one who was still on the team. Anyway, as I understood it they had discussed not only the murder, but also the dirty books the old bag was supposed to have written. The girl obviously had her doubts about whether Aldrin really was the author, and Ross mentioned that they’d been turned into a film as well. Then she found the notes from that investigation as well.’
‘You mean the raid on the porn club – Ladies’ Night?’ Alex said.
‘Exactly.’
‘And what did you tell Rebecca?’
‘Too much.’
Bergwall cleared his throat and folded his arms.
‘I told her how we’d found the films, and that we’d tried to track down the person who’d written the books to help us establish whether the film was real. But we only got as far as Elias Hjort, who received royalties from the publisher, Box. At first we thought it was a dead end, but then we came across the film club. Elias Hjort and Thea Aldrin knew each other through the club.’
Bergwall fell silent, but Alex sensed that he had more to say. After a moment he went on:
‘I showed Rebecca Trolle the original case notes and went through them with her. For example, she found out who else was at the porn club on the night of the raid.’
Alex shuffled on the uncomfortable chair, wishing that his colleague would get a move on. Bergwall took a folder out of his filing cabinet, removed a sheet of paper and passed it to Alex.
A list of names. Almost exclusively men.
‘The clients who were at the club that night. Anyone you recognise?’
Bergwall was wearing a supercilious smile.
Alex glanced through the list, and stopped when he reached the penultimate name:
Morgan Axberger.
He looked up.
‘Another member of The Guardian Angels.’
‘Exactly,’ Bergwall said again.
Alex shrugged.
‘A managing director who visits porn clubs; that’s not particularly interesting.’
‘If it wasn’t for one nice little detail that wasn’t followed up in the original investigation.’ Bergwall fixed his gaze on Alex. ‘It was Axberger who had the film on him.’
Alex raised his eyebrows.
‘There you go,’ Bergwall said. ‘That surprised you, didn’t it? Me too. Unfortunately, we never found out how or why Axberger had got hold of the film; he bought his way out straight away. He paid one of the lads involved in the raid to say that the film had been found in the club’s office. The truth didn’t come out until several years later, when the bloody idiot – the copper, I mean – got drunk at a Christmas party and told someone what he’d done.’
He laughed drily.
‘And what happened then?’
‘Not a bloody thing. By that time the prosecutor had dismissed the seizure of the film as being of no interest, so we didn’t bother confronting Axberger with the fresh information. After all, it’s not illegal to walk around with a film in your inside pocket.’
‘As long as it isn’t a genuine snuff movie,’ Alex said.
‘Which it wasn’t.’
Bergwall looked so smug that Alex felt like punching him on the nose. He clenched his fists under the desk; he was furious.
‘You have no idea what your silence has cost my case. How the hell could you keep quiet about the fact that you’d given Rebecca Trolle that kind of information?’
‘What do you mean, that kind of information? I’m telling you, it was irrelevant. The film was a fake and Axberger was untouchable. It was that simple.’
Alex leapt to his feet so abruptly that the chair rocked.
‘I’ll be back, Bergwall. Until then, you keep your mouth shut about what you know. Is that clear?’
He saw the glint in Bergwall’s eye.
‘Think very carefully before you threaten me, Recht.’
Alex took a step closer, leaned across the desk and hissed:
‘The film was genuine, you stupid bastard. You stumbled on a secret that has led to the deaths of at least three people. If I were you, I’d keep my bloody head down.’