The air felt icy cold tonight, as if the winter had suddenly changed its mind and come back.
The restaurant was right by the water just outside the centre of Karlskrona, but it didn’t look as though it boasted many Michelin stars. Two of the neon letters weren’t working, so the sign above the entrance said HON LULU RE TAURANT.
He went into the warmth and took off his jacket. There were about thirty tables, only eight of which were occupied, but then it was Monday, after all. No doubt there would be plenty more customers in three days’ time, on May Day.
He sat down at a table in a quiet spot by the window and picked up the menu; the choice was limited almost exclusively to pizza and hamburgers. When the waiter appeared, Per ordered a glass of water and a Honolulu burger with cheese.
He glanced covertly at the waiter as he took Per’s order through to the kitchen. He was dark-haired and broad-shouldered like one of Jerry’s models, but he looked about twenty-five, and was hardly likely to have been employed by Jerry ten years ago.
When he came back with the food fifteen minutes later, Per asked, ‘Do you know Tobias Jesslin?’
The waiter put the plate of food down on the table. ‘Tobias? Tobias the chef?’
‘That’s right, the chef,’ Per said quickly. ‘I’d really like to speak to him.’
The waiter looked dubious. ‘Is it to do with the food?’
‘No, it’s nothing to do with the food.’
‘Tobias is rushed off his feet at the moment.’
‘But he’ll be free later, won’t he? Could you give him a note?’
The waiter hesitated, then nodded.
Per took an old receipt out of his wallet and quickly jotted down a message, similar to the one he had left at the Moulin Noir.
The waiter took the note and disappeared without a word. Per started to eat his burger, which was greasy and somewhat rubbery. He gazed out at the blackness of the sea as he chewed. The old cargo ships carrying limestone from Oland had sailed past out there, heading for Denmark and Norway.
When the plate was empty he sat there staring at the kitchen door. It remained closed.
The thought that Markus Lukas might be behind that door was making him nervous. After waiting for ten minutes he just had to do something. He got up, went into the empty foyer and called a mobile number he had rung earlier that day. It was answered immediately.
‘Fall?’
‘This is Per Morner from Oland. I rang you this morning … about Hans Bremer?’
‘Yes, I remember.’
Thomas Fall sounded tired, but Per went on anyway. ‘I just wanted to check if you’d found that briefcase yet … Bremer’s briefcase?’
‘Yes … it was in the loft.’
‘Great. Have you looked inside?’
Fall seemed hesitant, as if he were embarrassed. ‘Yes … I did take a look, just a quick look. It’s full of old magazines, and some kind of book manuscript.’
‘Like a diary?’
‘Maybe. I haven’t read it.’
‘Could I have a look at it?’
‘Of course,’ said Fall. He paused. ‘Actually, you can have it. It’s no use to me.’
‘That would be great, although it’s going to be a bit difficult for me to come and pick it up …’
Per was just working out how he could drop everything and drive all the way back down to Malmo again – he couldn’t go so far away from Nilla right now – but Thomas Fall solved the problem.
‘I’m driving up to Stockholm for the May Day celebrations, so I could take a detour to Oland and drop it off, if I can have your address.’
Per gave it to him and explained how to get to Stenvik. ‘It’s the third house along by the quarry,’ he said. ‘The smallest one.’
He switched off his mobile and went back to the table. The waiter removed his plate.
At half past nine the kitchen door opened and a man in chef’s whites emerged. He came over to Per’s table and held up the note. He didn’t look put out or annoyed, just curious. ‘Did you write this?’ He spoke with a Skane accent.
Per nodded, and the next question came:
‘So you’re Jerry Morner’s son?’
‘That’s right. And you’re Tobias?’
‘Yep. I did a bit of work for your father before I became a chef.’
Tobias’s face was sweaty, perhaps from the heat of cooking. But he looked Per in the eye, and didn’t seem bothered in the least.
‘I know,’ said Per. ‘Jerry called you Markus Lukas.’
Jesslin didn’t say anything for a few seconds.
‘Yes. But that’s all finished now. There’s hardly any Swedish porn these days … Practically all the films are made in the USA now, in California.’
‘Could we have a chat anyway? I’m just curious about a few things to do with my father’s activities.’
‘Sure … We can go to the staff room.’
Jesslin turned back to the kitchen. Per put the money for his meal on the table and followed him.
The smell of cooking hung in the air around the stoves, but the tiled floor looked clean. Tobias Jesslin led the way to the back of the kitchen and into a small room with closed metal cupboards, a shower, and a chair with several tables. A window framed a view of the sea.
‘Ulrica Ternman wanted me to say hello,’ said Per when Jesslin had closed the door.
‘Who?’
Jesslin sat down and took out a packet of cigarettes.
‘One of the girls you filmed with,’ said Per. ‘She was the one who gave me your name.’
‘Oh? I don’t remember.’ Jesslin lit a cigarette and blew the smoke up towards the ceiling. ‘I don’t even remember how many girls I filmed with … A hundred and twenty, maybe, or a hundred and fifty.’
Per realized he was supposed to look impressed, man to man. But all he said was, ‘How does that feel?’
‘How do you think?’ Jesslin gave a little smile. ‘A bit odd, like standing next to a conveyor belt as the girls came rolling along … But that was years ago; I’ve settled down now.’ He took a drag of his cigarette. ‘So how’s your dad these days?’
‘Not too well.’
‘No?’
‘No. He’s dead.’
‘Really? What happened?’
‘A car accident.’
Per was watching Jesslin closely, but his surprise seemed genuine.
‘That’s a shame,’ he said. ‘I liked Jerry, he was always himself. He was never ashamed of what he was doing.’
‘How long were you employed by him?’
‘Well, you say “employed” …’ Jesslin said, blowing out a stream of smoke. ‘I stood in front of the camera from time to time and got paid in cash.’
‘Did you work at the Moulin Noir as well?’
Jesslin nodded. ‘That was where Jerry found me. He saw me dancing, and said he could find me some work. Why not, I said. So he took me to a really good restaurant in Malmo, we had something to eat and drink and we chatted … and when we got to the coffee, this young, pretty girl turned up at our table and kissed Jerry on the cheek. Jerry asked for the bill and said, “OK kids, shall we get to work?” It was only then that I realized I was supposed to have sex that same afternoon with this girl, whose name I didn’t even know.’ He gave a brief laugh and added, ‘Things moved fast in the porn industry – but you got used to it after a while.’
Per was listening, but he wasn’t smiling. ‘So how many other men called Markus Lukas were there?’
