‘Fights between pumped-up boys who’d had too much to drink. Brawls. One time a chick claimed that she’d been raped in the ladies’ room, but no one took her seriously. I wasn’t on duty that night, but I heard about it afterwards,’ Rolf hastened to add, giving the detective an apologetic look.
Knutas frowned.
‘And it was never reported to the police? The rape, I mean?’
Rolf shook his head.
‘I know this sounds strange, but nobody knew who she was. Not even her name or where she was from. She just came outside crying and talked to the bouncers. Her clothes were a mess and she had several cuts on her face, but she was really loaded, and then she left with a friend who was trying to comfort her. The bouncers thought the kids were just going around the corner and would come back, so they’d have another chance to talk to the girl. But she never returned.’
‘And they just let her go, even though she said she’d been raped?’
‘Afraid so. But like I said, there’s been so much trouble here during these club nights for teenagers that we just can’t control everything that goes on. It’s too much. I tried to explain the problem to Viktor, but as I mentioned, he didn’t want to hear it. We have three more of those kind of club events that were booked ages ago, but after that, it bloody well has to stop.’
‘Are you the one who’s in charge now that Algard is dead?’
‘For the time being, yes.’
‘And you’ve always been against holding these parties for teenagers?’
‘Not at first, but I quickly realized that they were getting out of hand. Even though they brought in a lot of money, it wasn’t worth the trouble. We’ve got to think of the kids too. We’ve got a responsibility, damn it.’
‘So you and Viktor didn’t agree about this?’
‘That’s putting it mildly.’
‘When did this rape incident occur?’
‘It was on Lucia evening, December the thirteenth. Almost four months ago.’
‘And you still have no idea who the girl was?’
‘No, I haven’t got a clue.’
‘You were working at the bar during the dedication festivities at the conference centre, isn’t that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘They needed help, and I have nothing against making a little extra money.’
‘Did you notice anything out of the ordinary during the evening? Anyone who seemed suspicious?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘We now know that Viktor was having an affair with Veronika Hammar. Did you happen to notice them together? She was at the party too.’
Rolf Lewin’s face lit up.
‘Actually, yes. They were standing at the bar, talking. Just briefly. I even served them drinks.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Well, to be precise, I mixed a drink for Veronika Hammar. I remember because it was at the request of a secret admirer.’ He rolled his eyes.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Knutas.
‘Well, there was this guy who came over and ordered an alcohol-free strawberry daiquiri, which he wanted to give her.’
‘And you gave the drink to Veronika?’
‘Yes.’
‘This man who ordered it – what did he look like?’
‘Hmm. I don’t really recall. There wasn’t anything remarkable about him. Tall, in his forties, wearing a grey suit, I think. Blond hair, a bit straggly. He wore glasses with black frames. They looked like Armani.’
‘But you didn’t recognize him?’
‘No. I’d never seen him before. I don’t think he was from around here.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘I’m not sure. Just a feeling I had.’
Considering Rolf claims not to have remembered anything about the guy, his powers of observation are certainly impressive, thought Knutas. Then another thought occurred to him.
‘What time was this?’
‘The stage show had just started, so it must have been right after midnight.’
‘Did you see whether Veronika drank the cocktail?’
‘I don’t think she did. She handed the glass to Viktor. Then he went downstairs, while she went off in another direction. There were so many people, and I was busy filling drink orders, so I didn’t give it another thought.’
‘Do you recall what the man said?’
Rolf paused to think.
‘Let’s see now. First he ordered the drink, without saying anything in particular. After I mixed the cocktail and served it, he paid with cash and gave me a big tip.’
‘Try to remember exactly what happened,’ Knutas told him. ‘Did he give you exact change?’
‘Good Lord, how in hell am I supposed to… Wait a minute. Now I remember. He paid with a five-hundred-krona note. The drink cost eighty-five, and he told me just to give him four hundred back. That’s right. Fifteen for a tip.’
‘Then what?’
‘Well, when I handed him the change, he asked me to give the drink to Veronika Hammar.’
‘How far apart were they standing? I mean, Veronika and the stranger?’
‘They were at opposite ends of the bar, so maybe ten metres apart or so. And there was a big crowd there. I told Veronika that the drink was from an admirer, but when I turned to point him out to her, the guy was gone.’
Knutas had listened to Rolf’s account with growing interest. He realized that the bartender’s story meant that the murder investigation was about to take a new and surprising turn.
He thanked the man for his time and then hurried out of the club.
As soon as Knutas got back to police headquarters, he asked Jacobsson to come to his office. He explained his theory, based on what he’d just learned from the pub manager. Jacobsson sat in silence on his visitor’s sofa, listening with an increasingly surprised look on her face.
‘So you think that Algard was killed by mistake? That the cyanide wasn’t intended for him at all?’
‘Exactly. It was meant for Veronika Hammar.’
‘So we’ve been on the wrong track the whole time.’
‘The man who ordered that drink is the one we need to be looking for.’
‘What about the glass?’
‘We’re going to have to search the entire building again. Look in every damn rubbish bin, and every nook and cranny in the vicinity of the conference centre. The perp obviously took the glass with him.’
‘So how did the poison get in the cocktail?’
‘Emptying a vial into the drink could be done in a flash. It wouldn’t take more than a few seconds. He could have done it while the bartender was getting change for the five hundred kronor.’
‘This turns everything upside down,’ said Jacobsson. ‘We’re going to have to start from scratch.’
‘Definitely,’ Knutas agreed grimly. ‘Let’s get everyone together for a meeting.’
THE CABIN COULDN’T be described as luxurious. It was a typical weekend cabin from the sixties with dark brown wood panelling, a tumbledown chimney and spartan furnishings. The front door opened on to a narrow hallway. A row of hooks on the wall held jackets, coats and various bags and purses. On the floor underneath were rubber boots, wooden clogs and slippers. A couple of walking sticks leaned against the wall in one corner. The small kitchen had a window that faced the forested area on the hill. A cheap rug on the floor, wallpaper with brown flowers. A laminate countertop, a small sink and a stove that looked at least thirty years old. Further along the hall was a large bedroom with a double bed, dresser and photographs of several children on the wall. The living room had a hardwood floor and a simple fireplace. The furniture consisted of a sofa, coffee table, bookshelf and a
