full. ‘How’s it going with mapping out Peter Bovide’s life?’
Kihlgård carefully finished chewing before he replied.
‘If we first look at his family, friends and circle of acquaintances, a large number of interviews have been done, and in summary I can say that so far nothing out of the ordinary has turned up. The neighbours didn’t notice anything particular about the family, and the Bovides don’t seem to have fought or argued. Not a single person could confirm that Peter Bovide thought he was being watched or that he’d ever received anonymous phone calls at the office. So far, that information has come only from his business partner, Johnny Ekwall.’
‘What about the others who work at the company? The office secretary, Linda?’ asked Jacobsson.
Kihlgård shook his head.
‘Her answers were inconclusive. She says that somebody might have called, but she thought it was just a wrong number. She says she had no idea that Bovide felt he was being watched.’ Kihlgård took a gulp of coffee and continued: ‘According to their relatives, the Bovides were a perfect couple; they had a nice home, the children were well looked after and they always behaved politely. Everyone we talked to seemed genuinely shocked by the murder.’
‘There’s something else that comes to mind when I hear that a Russian gun was used, and that’s the traffic related to the Russian coal transports in Slite harbour,’ Wittberg interjected. ‘I mean, the barges arrive several times a month, and everybody knows they’re selling illegal booze over there.’
Jacobsson thought about the article she’d seen in the newspaper. The same idea had occurred to her.
Knutas agreed that Wittberg had a plausible argument. The coal barges were a problem. The police were well aware that the sale of illegal liquor was going on, but they didn’t have the resources to check every shipment. They were able to make only random checks.
‘That sounds reasonable,’ said Kihlgård. ‘We should follow up on that lead.’
‘Does anybody know when the next transport is due to arrive?’ asked Knutas. ‘And on the Swedish side, who’s responsible for the unloading?’
‘The harbour master at the Cementa company,’ said Wittberg. ‘That’s where the coal is headed. They use it as fuel in the furnaces.’
‘OK,’ said Knutas. ‘I’ll ring him after the meeting.’
‘Wait a sec,’ Kihlgård interjected. ‘One of the neighbours mentioned something about Cementa.’
He quickly flicked through his notebook.
‘Right. Here it is. An Arne Nilsson who lives next door to the Bovides said that Peter had a big fortieth birthday celebration not long ago. And quite a lot of booze was served. He said something about vodka … oh, that’s right, he said that the vodka flowed and it wasn’t the usual kind you can buy at the state liquor store. It was a stronger type that was imported directly from Russia. Apparently it was from one of the Russian barges that deliver coal to Cementa.’
‘But plenty of people buy illegal booze,’ Sohlman objected. ‘Why should this have anything to do with the murder?’
‘It’s at least worth looking into,’ said Knutas. ‘I’ll find out when the next shipment is due.’
WHEN JOHAN WOKE up, he didn’t know at first where he was. He peered at the ceiling, which had a yellowish tint he didn’t recognize. Cautiously, he turned over; the bed was much softer and wider than his own. For a split second he thought he was lying in Emma’s bedroom out in Roma. He felt a rush of euphoric joy shoot through his body until he realized that he hadn’t spent the previous evening with her and the sounds outside the window were much louder and more diverse than in the peaceful residential neighbourhood in Roma. Then images from the previous day came flooding in. Oh shit. They’d gone to Donner’s Bar and from there to the outdoor tavern Vinäger, where they’d run into a bunch of people from the local radio
Kihlgård carefully finished chewing before he replied.
‘If we first look at his family, friends and circle of acquaintances, a large number of interviews have been done, and in summary I can say that so far nothing out of the ordinary has turned up. The neighbours didn’t notice anything particular about the family, and the Bovides don’t seem to have fought or argued. Not a single person could confirm that Peter Bovide thought he was being watched or that he’d ever received anonymous phone calls at the office. So far, that information has come only from his business partner, Johnny Ekwall.’
‘What about the others who work at the company? The office secretary, Linda?’ asked Jacobsson.
Kihlgård shook his head.
‘Her answers were inconclusive. She says that somebody might have called, but she thought it was just a wrong number. She says she had no idea that Bovide felt he was being watched.’ Kihlgård took a gulp of coffee and continued: ‘According to their relatives, the Bovides were a perfect couple; they had a nice home, the children were well looked after and they always behaved politely. Everyone we talked to seemed genuinely shocked by the murder.’
‘There’s something else that comes to mind when I hear that a Russian gun was used, and that’s the traffic related to the Russian coal transports in Slite harbour,’ Wittberg interjected. ‘I mean, the barges arrive several times a month, and everybody knows they’re selling illegal booze over there.’
Jacobsson thought about the article she’d seen in the newspaper. The same idea had occurred to her.
Knutas agreed that Wittberg had a plausible argument. The coal barges were a problem. The police were well aware that the sale of illegal liquor was going on, but they didn’t have the resources to check every shipment. They were able to make only random checks.
‘That sounds reasonable,’ said Kihlgård. ‘We should follow up on that lead.’
‘Does anybody know when the next transport is due to arrive?’ asked Knutas. ‘And on the Swedish side, who’s responsible for the unloading?’
‘The harbour master at the Cementa company,’ said Wittberg. ‘That’s where the coal is headed. They use it as fuel in the furnaces.’
‘OK,’ said Knutas. ‘I’ll ring him after the meeting.’
‘Wait a sec,’ Kihlgård interjected. ‘One of the neighbours mentioned something about Cementa.’
He quickly flicked through his notebook.
‘Right. Here it is. An Arne Nilsson who lives next door to the Bovides said that Peter had a big fortieth birthday celebration not long ago. And quite a lot of booze was served. He said something about vodka … oh, that’s right, he said that the vodka flowed and it wasn’t the usual kind you can buy at the state liquor store. It was a stronger type that was imported directly from Russia. Apparently it was from one of the Russian barges that deliver coal to Cementa.’
‘But plenty of people buy illegal booze,’ Sohlman objected. ‘Why should this have anything to do with the murder?’
‘It’s at least worth looking into,’ said Knutas. ‘I’ll find out when the next shipment is due.’
WHEN JOHAN WOKE up, he didn’t know at first where he was. He peered at the ceiling, which had a yellowish tint he didn’t recognize. Cautiously, he turned over; the bed was much softer and wider than his own. For a split second he thought he was lying in Emma’s bedroom out in Roma. He felt a rush of euphoric joy shoot through his body until he realized that he hadn’t spent the previous evening with her and the sounds outside the window were much louder and more diverse than in the peaceful residential neighbourhood in Roma. Then images from the previous day came flooding in. Oh shit. They’d gone to Donner’s Bar and from there to the outdoor tavern Vinäger, where they’d run into a bunch of people from the local radio
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