showing them his holiday snaps. Knutas would never be able to understand how Sohlman did it.
He cast a quick glance at Karin. Her face was as white as chalk. Knutas was full of sympathy; he knew how hard she struggled. The pictures of the victim showed everything in close-up. Wallin’s face was reddish, his eyes were open. On his forehead a cut and a bruise were visible, and there was a scratch on his cheek. Knutas wondered if he got those injuries as he fought for his life.
As if Sohlman had read his mind, he now went on, ‘These injuries on his face are inconsistent. I have no idea where they came from. I suppose we can’t rule out the possibility that they were sustained in connection with the hanging, but that seems strange, and the wound on his neck indicates that he was attacked from behind. But I’m happy to leave the interpretation of the facial wounds to the ME. He’s got to have something to do too.’
Sohlman grinned.
‘How long has he been dead?’ asked Jacobsson, whose face had now returned to its normal colour.
‘Difficult to say. Judging by the body temperature, I’d guess at least six hours. But that’s just a guess, of course. You’ll have to wait for the preliminary post-mortem results from the ME.’
‘Any other evidence?’ asked Knutas.
‘We haven’t found much of interest in the gate area. A few cigarette butts and some chewing gum, but they could have been there before. There are some fresh tyre tracks near the gate and also some footprints. The Ostergravar area is crawling with footprints, of course. We’ve had the dogs go over that section too, but so far there’s been nothing of interest.’
‘Could this be about something as simple as a robbery?’ said Wittberg, giving his colleagues an inquisitive look.
‘Even if the robber lost his head and ended up killing his victim, why would he go to the trouble of hanging him from the gate?’ said Jacobsson doubtfully.
Sohlman cleared his throat. ‘If there’s nothing else right now, I’d like to get back to the crime scene.’
He shut down the computer and turned the lights back on before he left the room.
Knutas gave the remaining members of his team a sharp look. ‘Let’s leave the question of motive for the time being. It’s much too early to speculate about that right now. What we need to get started on is mapping out Egon Wallin’s life: his art business, his employees, neighbours, friends, relatives, his past — everything. Karin and Thomas will be responsible for that. Lars, you’ll handle the press — the reporters are going to be on us like hawks. The fact that the victim was hanged in this fashion isn’t going to make things easier. You know how much the tabloid hacks love a scandal — they’re going to be drooling over this.’
‘Shouldn’t we hold a press conference today?’ suggested Lars Norrby. ‘Otherwise we’re going to spend all our time on the phone. And everyone is just going to ask the same questions.’
‘It seems a little early for that,’ Knutas objected. ‘Wouldn’t a press release be sufficient for the time being?’
‘Hmm, I don’t know. It sounds like this could be a major case. Wouldn’t it be better to take care of everybody at once?’
‘OK. Let’s send out a press release right after the meeting, confirming that this is a homicide case, and then we’ll schedule a press conference for this afternoon. How’s that?’
Norrby nodded.
‘And then we’ll put all our efforts into finding out as much as we can about Wallin and what he did on the days leading up to his death. Who did he meet? What did he do on the day of the murder? Who was the last person to see him alive? This murder didn’t just happen by chance.’
O n the plane Johan had time to think about Emma. Everything had happened so fast that he hadn’t been able to try ringing her again. Now they’d be seeing each other sooner than planned. In his mind he pictured her as he last saw her, with her dark eyes, pale complexion and sensitive mouth. He thought that she had looked at him in a new way when they parted. As if he meant more to her than previously. For three years they had struggled with their relationship, and yet he had been happier than ever before since Emma had come into his life.
He leaned against the wall and looked out of the window. The fleecy clouds reminded him of the misty shore where Helena Hillerstrom had got lost and then met her killer three years earlier. She had been Emma’s best friend, and it was in connection with the murder investigation that they had first met. Johan had interviewed Emma, and then they began an affair. She was married at the time, and the mother of two young children. How long ago that seems, he thought. Now Emma had been divorced from Olle for over a year and had given birth to another child — and this time Johan was the father. Elin was eight months old and a true miracle. But it hadn’t been easy to cultivate their new relationship. There were so many factors in the way, so many different people involved.
As far as his job was concerned, Johan was stationed in Stockholm, and there wasn’t much he could do about it. And Emma had to take her other children, Sara and Filip, into consideration. Her ex-husband had started getting difficult again and was blocking all attempts to cooperate when it came to the children.
It was an understatement to say that they were fighting an uphill battle. On many occasions Johan had been convinced that their relationship was over, but each time they had found their way back to each other. Now their love felt stronger than ever. Johan had accepted that Emma needed time with her own children, that she wasn’t yet ready to move in with him, even though they had Elin.
They tried to see each other as often as possible. Johan went to Gotland at least once a week for his job, but it wasn’t enough. At the end of the summer he was going to take paternity leave, and then he would move into Emma’s house in Roma. That was going to be their trial by fire. If things went well, they would get married the following year and finally move in together permanently. That was what Johan hoped, at least. Another child was also on his wish list, but on that topic he knew he had to proceed with caution. Emma had strongly rejected the idea every time he’d tried to bring it up.
He barely had time to drink his coffee before the captain announced that they were starting their descent into Visby airport. Johan was surprised every time at how quick and easy it was to fly over to the island. When he was back home in Stockholm and missing Emma and Elin, Gotland always felt painfully far away.
10
Pia was waiting for him with the car belonging to Swedish TV when he arrived. Her black hair stuck out in all directions, as usual, and her eyes were just as heavily made-up as always. A purple gemstone glittered in one nostril. She smiled and gave him a hug.
‘Great to see you again. Things are really starting to cook.’ Her brown eyes shone. ‘The police put out a press release a little while ago. They suspect foul play.’ With a triumphant expression she handed over a piece of paper.
This was what Pia loved best. Action. Drama.
Johan read the brief statement. A press conference was scheduled for four o’clock. He took out a notebook and pen and asked Pia to turn on the radio so they could follow the news reports on the local station.
‘Have they said anything about how he was killed?’
‘God, no.’
Pia rolled her eyes as she drove through Norderport, where she made a sharp turn and headed up the steep slope of Rackarbacken.
‘On the other hand, I happen to know who the victim is,’ she said with satisfaction.
‘Really? Who is it?’
‘His name is Egon Wallin, and he’s well known in the city. He runs — or rather ran,’ she quickly corrected herself, ‘the biggest art gallery in Visby. You know the one, right on Stora Torget.’
‘How old was he?’
‘In his fifties, I’d guess, married with two children. A native of Gotland, originally from Sundre, and married to a Gotlander. Seemed totally trustworthy and honest. So it’s unlikely this has anything to do with some kind of dispute among criminals.’ ‘Could it have been a robbery?’
‘Maybe, but if the perp was just after his money, why would he kill him and then hang his body from the gate? Doesn’t that seem a little over the top?’
She brought the car to a halt with a lurch in the car park opposite the cathedral. Undoubtedly the car park
