be found in the case involving the assault on Alexander? The interviews the police had conducted at the club had produced very little, although it was likely that there were more witnesses to the beating who hadn’t yet come forward.
Could someone close to Alexander have exacted revenge on the club owner? Knutas had seen Algard speak to the media several times about whether he considered himself responsible for some of the out-of-control behaviour among local teenagers. Each time he had brushed aside all criticism. That sort of thing might really infuriate people. Maybe somebody had finally had enough.
Knutas still hadn’t paid a visit to the club in person after the incident. He needed to do that soon. Possibly even this afternoon.
He went over the latest findings with Rylander, his colleague from the NCP. The skinny detective folded his lanky body into a chair in front of Knutas’s desk, holding a thick file folder containing a stack of documents. He placed the folder on the desk.
‘This isn’t an easy task, let me tell you. Not with so many damn people involved.’
‘I know,’ said Knutas sympathetically. ‘We have two murders now, with no obvious connections, other than the fact that they were both committed brazenly in the midst of a crowd of partygoers. It’s one of the hardest things for the police to handle – having to interview people who were more or less drunk when a crime was committed.’
‘You’re right about that,’ Rylander agreed. ‘We just have to do the best we can. So far, the interviews that we’ve conducted haven’t brought us much further. This is the most interesting of the lot.’
He pulled a page out of the folder.
‘One of Algard’s closest colleagues, the pub manager called Rolf Lewin, was also at the dedication festivities at the conference centre. He was helping out at the bar.’
‘And?’
‘Maybe that’s not so strange. Viktor usually brought in the same staff for his events. But during the interview it came out that Rolf and Viktor had had their differences. It might be worthwhile having another talk with the pub manager.’
‘What else do you know about him?’
‘A typical superannuated biker, if you want my honest and highly biased opinion. Lives alone in a two-room flat in Visby. Unmarried. No children. He’s about forty-five, with straggly hair that sticks out in all directions. Wears an earring and always has a cigarette between his lips. From the broken blood vessels on his nose I’d assume he drinks too much.’
‘OK, I guess I’ll go out and see him,’ Knutas muttered. ‘Anything else?’
‘Not much. The two bouncers don’t exactly have a spotless past, but there’s nothing to indicate that they had anything to do with Algard’s murder. Besides, both of them have watertight alibis.’
‘Which are?’
‘That they were at home with their wives and kids on Saturday evening. They didn’t set foot outside their houses all night.’
By the time they finished, it was one o’clock and Knutas could feel his stomach growling. After his morning swim he was extra hungry. He knocked on the door of Jacobsson’s office and asked if she’d like to go out for some lunch. He needed fresh air and wanted to stretch his legs. The noisy lunchroom at police headquarters didn’t seem very appealing.
There weren’t many lunch places to choose from in Visby during the winter, but the Cafe Ringduvan, located near the eastern gate in the ring wall, was a pleasant place. At the counter they each ordered the special of the day and then sat down at a table outside. The sun felt gloriously warm. Jacobsson lit a cigarette.
‘Have you started smoking again?’ asked Knutas.
‘You should talk. You with your pipe.’
‘But I never light it.’
‘Of course you do.’
He was well aware that Karin smoked only when she was worried about something.
‘By the way, you said that later on you’d tell me what’s been bothering you. Is this a good time?’ asked Knutas.
‘Definitely not. We need to talk about work. And besides, I don’t know whether I’ll ever be able to talk to you about this particular problem. It’s way too serious.’
Knutas placed his hand on top of hers. ‘I’m your friend, Karin. Don’t forget that.’
‘But just how good a friend are you?’
He looked at her in surprise, startled by the question. ‘A very good friend. Probably much better than you even know.’
‘OK. I’ll think about it.’
‘Do that.’ Knutas sighed. ‘It feels like we’re just treading water. With the homicide case, I mean,’ he clarified so that she wouldn’t think he was talking about their personal relationship. Although in some ways he actually was.
‘I know,’ Jacobsson agreed. ‘The investigation into the assault hasn’t produced much yet. There’s nothing to indicate that it has anything to do with the murder of Viktor Algard. It’s just so awful that the boy died.’
‘I’ve been thinking a lot about his poor mother, Ingrid. I talked to her on the phone last night. She was completely beside herself, of course. Losing a child must be the worst thing that can happen to a person.’
Knutas shook his head. He took a sip of his light beer and looked at Karin. She was staring straight ahead with a blank expression.
‘What is it?’
‘I’m not feeling very good. I’ve got to go to the loo.’
She put out her cigarette, got up unsteadily and disappeared inside the cafe.
A frown of concern crossed Knutas’s face as he watched her go.
THE BUILDING HOUSING the Solo Club, which was so popular with young people, was located on the edge of the harbour district, squeezed between a family restaurant and a bicycle-hire shop. Knutas had made an appointment to meet the pub manager there at three o’clock, but he was a little early. The bartender offered him a cup of coffee and invited him to sit down to wait.
After a few minutes Rolf Lewin arrived. He matched perfectly Rylander’s description of him. He was tall with a boyish physique, dyed hair that stuck straight up and pierced eyebrows. He wore a black T-shirt with a drum set printed in gold on his chest and a long gold chain. On his feet he wore a pair of black Converse trainers, just like the ones that Nils owned. But Rolf had an open, friendly face, and he smiled as he introduced himself.
‘As you know, we’re investigating the murder of Viktor Algard,’ said Knutas. ‘Since a boy was assaulted here right before the murder and he has now died from his injuries, we consider the incident to be of interest to our investigation.’
‘OK, but the police have already been here several times.’
Knutas held up his hands as if to ward off any further objections.
‘I know. But right now we’d like to hear what you think about a possible link to the murder. Have you seen or heard anything suspicious? Have you noticed whether anyone has displayed a particular hatred for Algard?’
‘Everybody liked Viktor. He was a cheerful guy. He had good intentions, but he really had no idea what he was getting into when he started arranging special evenings here at the club for the younger kids. That’s when things went wrong. He refused to see that there were any problems. His only concern was the money he expected to make.’
‘So what was his reaction to the problems?’
‘There was trouble right from the start. There’s no use trying to hide that fact. Lots of kids were stewed to the gills even before they got here. They also smuggled in booze and drank outside the club. The bouncers did the best they could, but it was impossible for us to control everything that was going on. So of course there was a lot of drinking and fighting. We had to deal with plenty of violent incidents even before Alexander Almlov got beaten up. But Viktor just brushed it all aside. He thought things would calm down after a while.’
‘What sort of violent incidents?’
