‘Did you find footprints from the perpetrator as well?’ asked Jacobsson.
‘There are a bunch of different prints in the area where the victim was found. The most interesting are from a type of trainer, size 7. We’re working on that. Otherwise we haven’t found much evidence in the area so far.’
‘No bullets or empty casings?’
‘No, but it looks like he has a number of slugs still in his body. He was shot no fewer than eight times. The ME has been here and examined the body at the scene, so what I’m telling you about now is the first impression we both had. In other words, nothing has been confirmed yet, so take it all with a grain of salt. We’re hoping that the post mortem will be done in the morning, and then we should have a preliminary report by tomorrow evening.’
‘Good,’ said Jacobsson. ‘At this stage, how would you interpret the wounds?’
‘In terms of the shot to the forehead, we can see that the bullet penetrated the skull and entered the brain, where it stopped. Judging by the appearance of the entry wound, we think that the shot was fired at very close range. Either the perp pressed the gun to the victim’s forehead, or the muzzle was only a few inches from Bovide’s head.’
‘How can you tell?’ asked Wittberg with interest.
‘We know that it was fired at close range because of the type of entry wound in the victim’s head. It’s quite large and star-shaped. You can see how jagged it is if you look at the photo. That’s because the bullet carries a cloud of hot gas that follows it into the body when the shot is fired at close range. The gas collects under the skin like a bubble which bursts when the bullet penetrates farther inside – rather like a zit, actually – and that results in this type of star-shaped wound. Carbon particles also collect around the entry hole, and there are some traces left on his forehead.’
‘Even though he was floating in the water for several hours?’ asked Wittberg.
‘Yes, it’s rather like a tattoo.’
‘Good lord,’ groaned Jacobsson.
She couldn’t understand how Sohlman could sound so unmoved when he talked about a victim’s wounds.
‘The shot to the forehead should have been sufficient to kill him, since it was fired so close to his body,’ Sohlman continued. ‘So it’s a mystery what the hell went on after that.’
The next picture showed the bullet holes in the abdomen.
‘If the shot to the forehead was fired first, the murderer must have gone crazy afterwards. He seems to have emptied an entire magazine into the body. Seven shots fired at the man’s gut, also at close range.’
‘What does it mean?’ muttered Jacobsson. ‘Why would he do that?’
‘The first thing that comes to mind is rage,’ said Wittberg. ‘It must have been somebody who was really furious with the victim.’
‘Yes,’ Jacobsson agreed. ‘It seems very charged with emotion. Maybe they knew each other.’
‘Unprofessional is what I’d call it,’ Sohlman interjected. ‘If you want to kill somebody, you don’t fire a bunch of shots at the stomach. There’s a good chance the victim might survive, as long as the bullets don’t hit the aorta or the heart. A pro would have fired another shot to the head if he wasn’t sure that the first bullet had been fatal.’
‘So an amateur then. Somebody who hasn’t killed before,’ said Jacobsson. ‘At the same time, it seems incredibly cold-blooded. I mean, not everyone would be able to shoot a man standing right in front of them, and in the forehead at such close range.’
‘But why do you think he was shot in the head first and then in the stomach?’ asked Wittberg. ‘Wouldn’t the opposite seem more reasonable? The perp shoots the victim in the stomach, and then to make sure he dies, he fires a shot at his head.’
‘It’s just a feeling I have,’ said Sohlman. ‘We really won’t know until after the post mortem. I’m sure the ME will be able to determine in what order the bullets were fired.’
‘Can you tell us anything about the weapon?’ asked Jacobsson.
‘Nothing except that we’re talking about a small-calibre pistol. I won’t know more until we’ve taken a look at the slugs.’
‘The question is how the murderer knew that Peter Bovide was going to be out running so early,’ murmured Wittberg. ‘In other words, was the murder premeditated?’
‘It seems most likely that it was planned,’ said Norrby, crossing one long leg over the other. ‘How long did you say they’d been at the campsite?’
‘Three days,’ replied Jacobsson.
‘The perp must have followed Bovide to the campsite and observed his routines.’
‘Apparently, he always went running every morning at the same time,’ interjected Jacobsson. ‘Every single day of the year.’
She reached for the flask of coffee standing on the table.
‘What I can’t understand is why the perp would choose to commit the murder so close to a campsite swarming with people. Doesn’t that seem a bit crazy?’
‘Maybe he was staying at the campsite himself,’ said Wittberg. ‘It might have been someone that Peter Bovide had just met.’
‘Or maybe there’s some reason why the perp didn’t want to kill Bovide close to home,’ said Smittenberg. ‘A neighbour, a work colleague, or someone else with strong ties to Bovide’s life back in Slite. Killing him on Faro could serve as some sort of diversionary manoeuvre.’
‘That doesn’t sound very likely,’ said Jacobsson. ‘The MO seems to indicate that a lunatic is on the loose. We need to do everything we can to catch this person as soon as possible. One way to proceed is to look for the gun. The perp might have thrown it away somewhere nearby. We’ll use metal detectors and get the coast guard to bring in divers who can search the area where the body was found.’
Jacobsson silently reminded herself that she needed to make sure the Swedish Crime Laboratory, the SCL in Linkoping, gave priority to examining the bullets to find out what type of gun was used. She turned to Sohlman.
‘Erik, could you see to it that the SCL puts a rush on this case, both the post mortem and the examination of the bullets? We can’t rule out that we’re dealing with someone who’s mentally ill, and in the worst-case scenario he may have developed a taste for killing. There’s a good chance he’ll strike again.’
PETER BOVIDE’S PARTNER, Johnny Ekwall, looked pale and upset when he arrived for the interview at police headquarters on the night of the murder. His muscular body slumped, and he was obviously having trouble holding back the tears. He sank heavily on to the chair across from Jacobsson, who was already sitting at the table in the cramped interrogation room. He smelled strongly of sweat. Jacobsson wrinkled her nose but decided she’d have to overlook it, since the man’s colleague had just been murdered, after all.
‘I realize that it’s tough to have to come here,’ she said sympathetically, ‘but I’m afraid it’s necessary. We need to gather as much information as we can about Peter Bovide, and do it quickly, so that we can catch the murderer.’
She switched on the tape recorder and ran through the standard statements. Then she leaned back in her chair and studied the man sitting in front of her. She knew that he was fifty-two, but she thought he looked older. His hair was thinning, and he had deep lines on his face.
‘How long have you been running the company together?’
‘Five years. Peter had dreamed of doing it for a long time – starting his own company, I mean – and recently things have really taken off. This is too bloody awful.’
He stared down at the table.
‘How did you divide up the work?’
‘Peter mostly handles the administrative and financial sides of the business, plus he goes after more jobs and writes bids. I take care of the practical matters. Meaning, I find the men to do the work and things like that. Make sure that everything is going smoothly. I also get more personally involved in the operational side than Peter does. I spend as much time as I can out at the construction sites. Peter mostly stays in the office. You might say that he’s the brains of the company while I’m the heart.’
Jacobsson raised her eyebrows at this use of metaphor. She felt an instant empathy for this man who spoke of Peter Bovide as if he were still alive.
