doorway.
Cautiously he took a look around. The rooms seemed stuffy and smelled of smoke. The bed was unmade, and someone had knocked a table lamp on to the floor. In the living room a half-empty glass stood on the table, along with an ashtray containing several cigarette butts.
Sohlman pulled aside the heavy curtains and discovered at once that the window had been forced open. Malmberg’s clothes had been neatly folded and placed on a chair near the bed, and his suitcase stood in the small entrance hall.
‘How many people have been in the rooms?’ Sohlman asked the manager after completing his survey of the suite.
‘Just myself and Linda, who’s working at the front desk today. She was the one who noticed that he hadn’t checked out. A cab had been ordered, and the driver came into the hotel to pick him up and take him to the airport. But as you can see, he’s missing.’
‘Did both of you come into the suite?’
‘Er, yes,’ said the manager uncertainly. ‘We did. But we were only inside for a minute, at most,’ he said apologetically, as if he now realized that it might not have been such a good idea.
‘OK, but I don’t want anyone else to come in here,’ said Sohlman to the others. ‘Someone has forced open the window, and there are clear traces of blood on the floor, as well as signs of a struggle. From now on, we need to consider this a crime scene. What sort of exits are there?’
The manager showed them the fire escape at the end of the corridor. The stairs went down the back of the building and out into the courtyard. From there it was a simple matter to walk out to the street. It was even possible to drive a car to the bottom of the stairs.
Sohlman rang for backup and stayed behind to take charge of the scene-of-crime investigation. Knutas arranged for the hotel employees to be interviewed, and officers began knocking on doors and asking guests whether they’d seen or heard anything during the night.
As soon as Knutas was back at police headquarters, he summoned those members of the investigative team who were in their offices to a meeting. Judging by the focused attention of everyone in the room, Jacobsson’s outburst earlier in the day was forgotten for the time being. For the first time in days, Knutas felt the old sense of camaraderie come back to the team. He quickly summarized what he knew about Hugo Malmberg’s disappearance.
‘What do we really know about his relationship with Egon Wallin?’ asked Kihlgard.
‘They were colleagues and met occasionally whenever Wallin was in Stockholm, but as I understand it, they mostly discussed business matters,’ said Knutas.
‘So you think that the fact that they both are, or were, gay has nothing to do with the case?’ said Jacobsson, sounding dubious. ‘I disagree. There are actually several things connecting them now. They were both art dealers, they used to meet in Stockholm, and they were both homosexuals. It can’t be a coincidence.’
‘Are we looking for a gay man in the art world of central Stockholm?’ asked Kihlgard. ‘If so, that would certainly narrow our search.’
‘Maybe,’ said Jacobsson. ‘Or it could be that we should just focus on their homosexuality.’
‘Why’s that?’ Wittberg objected. ‘Where does the theft of the painting come in?’
‘You’re right. That damned painting, “The Dying Dandy”,’ said Jacobsson pensively. ‘Is he trying to tell us something by choosing that particular painting and no others? Maybe it has nothing to do with Nils Dardel; maybe it’s the motif and the title of the painting that are important. Isn’t a dandy a man with androgynous traits? A well- dressed snob, an elegant fop who frequents exclusive drawing rooms? That applies to both Egon Wallin and Hugo Malmberg.’
‘Of course,’ said Wittberg eagerly. ‘That’s a crystal-clear connection. The murderer is so refined that he stole one of the most famous paintings in the history of Swedish art just to make a point. He’s pointing a finger at us — that’s what he’s doing!’
‘Could it really be that simple?’ wondered Kihlgard, doubtfully. ‘Another possibility is that he needs money for some reason.’
‘Yes, but how is he going to get rid of a painting like that? It’d be nearly impossible to sell it here in Sweden,’ said Norrby.
‘But there could be a collector behind the theft,’ muttered Knutas.
‘I think it sounds like this whole thing has to do with art; that seems to be the key,’ said Kihlgard. ‘They’re both art dealers, a famous painting has disappeared, and on the day of the murder Egon Wallin held a successful gallery opening. We should be looking within the art world and forget about the homosexual element. We’re just bumbling about and can’t see the wood for the trees.’
‘I agree,’ said Knutas, happy that for once he and Kihlgard shared the same opinion. ‘They may have had illegal dealings on the side. Both were earning serious money; it’s possible that their income wasn’t always legally acquired.’
‘Maybe this is where Mattis Kalvalis and his shady manager come into the picture. He seems anything but a straight arrow,’ said Jacobsson. ‘He’s a drug user; you can see that from a mile away. What about an art gang with international branches, including the Baltics?’ she suggested.
‘Our first priority is to find out what has happened to Hugo Malmberg,’ Knutas interrupted her. ‘If we’re dealing with the same perp, what has he done with Malmberg? And what’s the next step?’
‘Unfortunately, it seems most likely that Hugo Malmberg is no longer alive,’ said Jacobsson. ‘Just before this meeting I checked to see whether Malmberg had received any threats, and it turns out that he did receive an anonymous threat in the mail, as well as some strange phone calls. He filed a police report a couple of weeks ago.’
Knutas’s face flushed an alarming crimson. ‘What was done about it?’
‘Nothing, apparently. The police officer who took the report thought that Malmberg seemed paranoid, even though it stated in the report that he knew Egon Wallin well and they were supposed to have become business partners.’
‘Exactly when did these incidents occur?’
Jacobsson glanced through her notes. ‘The first incident, which took place on Vasterbron, was on February the tenth, although at the time Malmberg just thought that someone was following him and it wasn’t any sort of threat. But later he received a real threat, on the twenty-fifth.’
‘What kind of threat?’
‘A note that said “Soon”. With no sender’s name.’
‘“Soon”?’
‘Yes. Evidently that was all.’ ‘And that was two weeks ago?’ ‘That’s right.’
Everyone in the room exchanged glances.
‘This is crazy,’ said Knutas tensely. ‘Egon Wallin is murdered here in Visby. At the same time another art dealer who has had a long-standing business relationship with Wallin receives one threat after another, but nobody bothers to tell us about it. What are those guys in Stockholm doing? This is a serious breach of duty.’
Knutas was breathing fast through his nose. He picked up a glass of water from the table in front of him and took several big gulps.
‘Well, the only thing we can do now is press on. Sohlman is in charge of the scene-of-crime investigation in the hotel suite, and that’s taking place as we speak. The hotel has been partially cordoned off, and we’re continuing to knock on doors and collect information. Let’s hope we get some leads very soon. In the meantime, what do we think the perp might be planning?’
‘Unfortunately, I’m inclined to agree with Karin,’ said Kihlgard with a sigh. ‘Malmberg is probably already dead. All that remains is to see what the murderer will do with the body this time.’
‘Would he be brazen enough to hang it from Dalman Gate? Like he did with Egon Wallin?’ Jacobsson suggested.
‘Hmm. That seems unlikely,’ said Knutas. ‘To do that once, OK — but to dare to repeat such a manoeuvre? He must realize that we’re on his trail and that the hotel staff would discover that Malmberg was missing. Don’t you think?’
‘That’s not necessarily true,’ objected Kihlgard. ‘He may not be thinking rationally. He might be giddy from his success and starting to have delusions of grandeur. He might think he’s invincible. That’s happened before.’
