‘Okay, so he stays the night sometimes,’ he admitted grudgingly.
‘And where is he now?’
The old man’s shoulders heaved up and down in a sigh. ‘At the market. He works there most mornings.’
‘Market?’
‘The big one. Östermalms Saluhall.’ Andersson frowned. ‘Surely you’ve heard of it?’
‘This is my first visit to Stockholm,’ Lorimer said. ‘I’m still finding my way around.’
‘One of the best markets in the world,’ the old man said, his head tilting with pride. ‘You’ll find my Anders there.’ He paused for a moment, looking more keenly at Lorimer. ‘He’s done nothing wrong, you know.’
‘Thanks, Mr Andersson.’ Lorimer nodded and turned to leave.
He was at the lift when Andersson called after him.
‘Look for number fourteen, okay?’
‘What?’ Lorimer spun around but the door to the apartment was closed and he was left with the impression that the old man had been laughing at him.
Östermalms Saluhall dominated the corner of the street, an imposing red-stone building topped with a double cupola with the word SALUHALL picked out in gold.
Lorimer made to push open the slate blue doors but as he approached they opened with a squeak, revealing a second set of doors that admitted him into a cavernous hall full of noise and smells. He blinked for a moment, wondering which way to go. Hearing the Swedish voices all around him gave him the sense of being isolated, a foreigner, yet everywhere he looked there were men and women who could have been taken for Scots. So similar were they in dress and appearance that the detective superintendent was reminded of something he had learned over the years: that all humanity was the same when you came down to it.
For a moment he was transported back in time to his early childhood when his mother would take him into Glasgow to a well-known delicatessen grocer; the smell of cooked hams hanging from the ceiling and the whiff of freshly ground coffee brought it back so clearly he could almost feel his small boy’s hand in hers. A smile played about his lips as he remembered, then he gave a sigh, returning to the here and now of one of the world’s largest indoor food halls. Where on earth would he begin to find the boy in a place like this?
Standing still and taking a good look around to get some bearings paid off immediately as he saw numbers and names above each market stall. Number fourteen, Andersson had told him. Okay, then he would walk around this place until he found it.
Lorimer walked slowly past walls of chilled cabinets. Some were full of cheeses, whole ones piled high, others cut and oozing softly from their wrappings; a butcher’s stall contained tiny pictures of reindeer below cuts of meat. He walked on, catching sight of rows of luscious cakes including chocolate circles decorated with fresh fruit and his favourite, Danish pastries, swirled into mouth-watering shapes. Maggie, you would love this, he told his wife silently, vowing that if he ever had the chance he would bring her back here for a visit.
Number fourteen proved to be a vegetable stall with rows of fresh produce heaped enticingly up to the counter level, strings of garlic suspended above it. There was only one person behind the counter, a blond lad in a short-sleeved white polo shirt crouching over boxes of leeks that had been piled to one side.
‘Hello,’ Lorimer called out. ‘Are you Anders?’
The lad stood up, rubbing his hands down his jeans. Lorimer caught the tumble of blond curls and the frank open expression as the boy turned to look at him.
‘Yes, I’m Anders, who are you?’
‘Detective Superintendent Lorimer. Strathclyde Police. Can we talk?’
Anders Andersson looked him in the eye and nodded. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘But I need to get someone to cover for me. I can’t leave the place unattended.’
He took a swift look around then beckoned to a girl at the cheese counter opposite. Although he had called out to her in Swedish, Lorimer could understand the gist of the request from their body language. Come over and let me get away for a bit, can you?
‘This is a friend from Scotland,’ Anders lied, smiling jauntily at the girl who was already behind the counter. ‘We won’t be long, Brigitte.’ And, giving her a wave, he led Lorimer away from the stall and into the mêlée of the marketplace.
‘A coffee?’ Anders asked, nodding towards one of the many seated areas that were dotted amongst the wooden-fronted shops.
‘My treat,’ Lorimer grinned. ‘Seeing as I’m an “old friend”,’ he added wryly.
Anders shrugged. ‘What did you expect me to tell her? That the cops are after me?’ The boy laughed, showing white even teeth.
They sat down at a table for two and immediately a waitress was at their side and Anders was speaking to her in his native tongue. He looked at Lorimer questioningly.
‘Want anything to eat with your coffee?’
He was about to make a polite refusal when he noticed the tempting array of cakes behind the clear plastic display counter.
‘A Danish pastry, please,’ he murmured to Anders. The waitress smiled and nodded, then disappeared to deliver their order.
‘Well, Detective Superintendent Lorimer, here I am, you found me.’ Anders gave a resigned smile.
Lorimer raised his eyebrows. ‘I was beginning to think you didn’t want to be found,’ he replied mildly.
The young man’s smile faded as he cast his eyes down. ‘Know what it’s like,’ he said. ‘You lose someone special and it’s hard to want to talk about it.’
‘Yes, but the manner of losing Eva was and still is a police matter, Anders. It would have been helpful if you hadn’t tried to avoid talking to me.’
‘But I thought you’d got someone for her murder? That boy in her flat?’
‘There are ongoing enquiries,’ Lorimer said vaguely. ‘Things we still need to determine. Especially about Eva. And that’s why I’m here: to talk to you about your relationship with her.’
Anders made a face. ‘Didn’t have a relationship,’ he mumbled.
‘Don’t give me that, son, I know all about how Magnusson threw you out of the house and gave your dad the sack.’
Anders blushed, lowering his head. ‘That was ages ago,’ he mumbled. ‘Eva and I stopped being an item shortly after that.’
‘Really? So why follow her to Glasgow if you weren’t seeing her?’
Anders shrugged. ‘Suppose I was hoping for another chance,’ he said. ‘But Eva wanted different things.’
‘Wasn’t it awkward being around her at the university?’
The boy looked him in the eye again. ‘We were just friends by then. Hung around together a bit. But no romance.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Eva was having far too much fun with her new friends,’ he continued. ‘That lecturer for one, and then the lads in her flat. She told me all about them. Used to call me up late at night,’ he added, continuing to hold Lorimer’s gaze in a way that told the detective he was being told the truth.
‘And you weren’t jealous?’
Anders laughed again. ‘This is Eva Magnusson we’re talking about, right? The girl who could have anything she wanted?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look, she was spoiled rotten all her life. Daddy gave her everything she could ask for.’
‘But he didn’t let her have you, did he, Anders?’
The boy shook his head and sighed. ‘You can’t blame Eva. She was enjoying her first taste of freedom from that man. What beautiful girl wouldn’t have wanted to play around a bit? And that’s all it was, really. Eva wasn’t in love with me, Superintendent. In fact, I doubt if she had ever felt what it was like to really love another soul,’ he said, his voice dropping to a murmur.
‘You make her sound cold-hearted.’
‘No! She was never that! She was a lovely girl and one day she would have found someone she could feel strongly about, I’m sure of that,’ Anders said vehemently, sudden tears springing to his large eyes.
‘And if you’d waited long enough that might have been you?’