and Maxi, who’s nineteen, seem to be genuinely mourning their father, even though he made himself practically invisible at home. His wife, Ninni, is taking his death with what we might call great composure. Speaking of the sailing boat, she asked whether she would be allowed to sell it immediately. I told her yes. The same is true of Strand-Julén’s widow, Lilian. Great composure, I mean. Evidently she’d already more or less moved out of their apartment on Strandvägen, even though divorce was, quote, “out of the question”, unquote. She’d seen what had happened to his first wife, the one named Johanna. She made certain insinuations about Strand-Julén’s sexual preferences. And I quote: “Compared with my husband Saint Bernhard, the paedophiles in Thailand are God’s own angels.” Unquote. That may be something we should follow up.’
‘I’m beginning to see a red thread,’ said Hjelm, ‘regarding their leisure activities. If you’re finished, that is?’
‘I’d like to finish by saying that I haven’t been able to get in touch with Strand-Julén’s children. A daughter, Sylvia, thirty years old, from his first marriage, and Bob, age twenty, from the second. Both are apparently employed abroad.’
Then it was Hjelm’s turn. ‘Strand-Julén’s Swan boat was evidently a pleasure craft, in the most literal sense of the word. I’ve talked to one of the members of his ever-changing crew, consisting of blond young boys. I don’t know how nauseated you’d like to feel, but I have a detailed description of what took place on that boat.’
‘A rough summary will do,’ said Hultin laconically.
‘And rough it is. He liked to watch and give orders, creating little, quote, “tableaux”, in which the crew members were supposed to freeze in the middle of the act while he walked around to study the scene. One boy, for example, might have another guy’s dick or some similar object stuck up his arse for fifteen minutes without being allowed to move an inch until Strand-Julén gave permission for the activities to resume. He himself never participated, other than as stage director. But there doesn’t seem to be any connection with Daggfeldt. I’ll keep looking. I have a lead on the procurer.’
‘Holm and the circle of friends,’ Hultin moved on to the next topic he had assigned. His notes already filled a significant area of the whiteboard. His handwriting was gradually getting smaller.
Kerstin Holm’s melodic Göteborg accent rippled through the room. ‘Nyberg and I have been crossing into each other’s territory; it can be difficult to distinguish between friends and enemies. At the risk of falling into cliché, I can say that people in the upper echelons seldom make friends with someone just because they happen to like each other. Of course, it’s an advantage if they do, but that’s mostly of secondary interest, an extra bonus.
‘In short, they acquire friends in order to exploit them. For the sake of prestige, to demonstrate what a large and impressive circle of friends they have, and for the sake of business, in order to expand their contact network – which is the alpha and omega in their lives – as well as for the sake of sex, to establish contacts with the former, sex-starved housewives of other men. The impression I get reinforces what I know from the other side of Sweden, meaning Göteborg: that the trading of marital partners is so sanctioned and so common that you can talk about generations of inbreeding and bastard progeny. Do you think I’m exaggerating?’
‘Go on,’ said Hultin with inscrutable terseness.
‘Ninni Daggfeldt hinted at a number of strange but heterosexual escapades that her husband engaged in while he was travelling around the country and especially while he was abroad, in Germany, Austria and Switzerland. But at home he seems to have been quite monogamous. And he always spent his holidays on the famous sailing boat with his family – no one but his
‘I’m beginning to see a red thread,’ said Hjelm, ‘regarding their leisure activities. If you’re finished, that is?’
‘I’d like to finish by saying that I haven’t been able to get in touch with Strand-Julén’s children. A daughter, Sylvia, thirty years old, from his first marriage, and Bob, age twenty, from the second. Both are apparently employed abroad.’
Then it was Hjelm’s turn. ‘Strand-Julén’s Swan boat was evidently a pleasure craft, in the most literal sense of the word. I’ve talked to one of the members of his ever-changing crew, consisting of blond young boys. I don’t know how nauseated you’d like to feel, but I have a detailed description of what took place on that boat.’
‘A rough summary will do,’ said Hultin laconically.
‘And rough it is. He liked to watch and give orders, creating little, quote, “tableaux”, in which the crew members were supposed to freeze in the middle of the act while he walked around to study the scene. One boy, for example, might have another guy’s dick or some similar object stuck up his arse for fifteen minutes without being allowed to move an inch until Strand-Julén gave permission for the activities to resume. He himself never participated, other than as stage director. But there doesn’t seem to be any connection with Daggfeldt. I’ll keep looking. I have a lead on the procurer.’
‘Holm and the circle of friends,’ Hultin moved on to the next topic he had assigned. His notes already filled a significant area of the whiteboard. His handwriting was gradually getting smaller.
Kerstin Holm’s melodic Göteborg accent rippled through the room. ‘Nyberg and I have been crossing into each other’s territory; it can be difficult to distinguish between friends and enemies. At the risk of falling into cliché, I can say that people in the upper echelons seldom make friends with someone just because they happen to like each other. Of course, it’s an advantage if they do, but that’s mostly of secondary interest, an extra bonus.
‘In short, they acquire friends in order to exploit them. For the sake of prestige, to demonstrate what a large and impressive circle of friends they have, and for the sake of business, in order to expand their contact network – which is the alpha and omega in their lives – as well as for the sake of sex, to establish contacts with the former, sex-starved housewives of other men. The impression I get reinforces what I know from the other side of Sweden, meaning Göteborg: that the trading of marital partners is so sanctioned and so common that you can talk about generations of inbreeding and bastard progeny. Do you think I’m exaggerating?’
‘Go on,’ said Hultin with inscrutable terseness.
‘Ninni Daggfeldt hinted at a number of strange but heterosexual escapades that her husband engaged in while he was travelling around the country and especially while he was abroad, in Germany, Austria and Switzerland. But at home he seems to have been quite monogamous. And he always spent his holidays on the famous sailing boat with his family – no one but his
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