was behind it.’
‘Is it OK if I film you while we’re talking?’ asked Pia.
‘Sure, go ahead.’
‘What’s Peter’s last name?’
‘Bovide.’
‘How long had he and his family been here before this happened?’
‘Just over the weekend. They arrived Friday night and were supposed to stay two weeks. They do that every year. And they like to have the same camping spot each time. Before they left, he would always reserve it for the following year.’
‘Where is it located?’
He nodded towards the campsite.
‘It’s number fifty-three, the very last space, you know, and the one closest to the beach. There’s a sign, but right now the area is blocked off so you won’t be able to see it. It’s the space they had the first summer they were here, and since then they’ve never wanted to park their caravan anywhere else. Even though there’s no electrical hook-up over there; they have to run everything on liquefied natural gas, but that works fine.’
‘So he was married and had kids?’
‘Of course. His wife’s name is Vendela, and they have two children, a little girl and a boy.’
‘How old are they?’
‘Not very old. Maybe three and five, something like that. But how the hell would I know? I haven’t got any kids myself.’
‘Where are they from?’
‘Slite, so they didn’t have far to drive, you might say.’
‘Do you know what kind of work he did?’
‘Sure, he was a carpenter, and he had his own construction company. He was really good at his job. And always willing to lend a hand. He did quite a bit of carpentry work for me, so I gave him a good discount on the camping fee and made sure he got the spot he wanted. I felt like I needed to pay him back in some way. I know that he also helped out other people here at the campsite if they were having trouble with something. He could fix almost anything.’
‘What’s the name of the company?’
‘Slite Construction.’
‘What was Peter like as a person?’
‘A real decent guy. There’s no doubt about that. But he did have some odd habits.’
‘Like what?’
‘Well, he went out running every single morning, for example. And it was always so damn early. I used to see him sometimes if I had to be here extra early for the bread delivery or something like that. You’d always see him out running before six.’
Johan was so fascinated by all the information that came pouring out of the man standing in front of him that he almost forgot that he was doing an interview. He pulled himself together and changed direction.
‘How did you react when you heard about the murder?’
‘I was shocked, you know. To think that somebody could end up getting killed here. And to top it off, it was somebody that I actually happened to know. And to think he was killed in such an awful way. Shot dead, and with multiple bullet wounds. A gangster-style execution right here in our little campsite.’
‘How has the murder affected the other campers?’
‘Of course they’re nervous. I’ve been forced to keep the check-in desk open round the clock since it happened. Lots of campers have been over here to ask questions.’
‘What are they asking about?’
‘They want to know what happened, how he was killed, and whether the murderer has been caught. They think I have all the answers. I have to supply information and also play the roles of psychologist and master detective. And I really don’t know much. At any rate, I don’t think it was anyone who’s been staying here at the campsite.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, who would it be? The campers are all completely ordinary citizens who just want to spend their holiday in peace and quiet. Why would any of them go around with a gun and start killing people? You can hear for yourself how unlikely that sounds.’
There was a plaintive note in the man’s voice, and Johan gave him an encouraging nod so he’d keep talking.
‘You must have given the whole episode a lot of thought. Has anything happened lately that might have some bearing on the murder?’
‘No, nothing. Everything has been the same as usual. The weather hasn’t been great, but most people have seemed perfectly happy, at least I think so. We haven’t had any complaints or anything like that.’
‘No strangers acting suspiciously?’
Nilsson shook his head, looking gloomy. Johan had the feeling that the reality of what had happened so close to his peaceful campsite was just beginning to sink in.
‘Have you had any cancellations since the murder?’
‘A bunch of people left as soon as they found out what had happened, and we’ve had about twenty or thirty phone calls with cancellations. But plenty of people have actually stayed, especially our regular campers. About 80 per cent of the campers are regulars, you know; they come back year after year. Most of them are from Gotland, and they probably realize that this was a one-off occurrence.’
‘What about you? How sure are you of that?’
‘Of course you never know, but I have a hard time imagining that we’re dealing with a serial killer who’s only interested in killing campers on Faro. What do you think?’
Johan left the question unanswered.
BY THE TIME Karin Jacobsson got back to police headquarters after her interview with Vendela Bovide, Thomas Wittberg had already located the passengers who had been aboard the first ferry to cross Farosund the previous morning.
The captain of the ferry had remembered enough of the licence plate numbers to allow the police to track down the vehicle owners.
‘It was easier than I thought to get hold of these people,’ Wittberg told Jacobsson with satisfaction as they sat down across from each other in her office.
He brushed the shock of blond hair out of his eyes and began his report.
‘Let’s start with the young couple. They’re from Gotland and had been spending the past week on holiday on Faro. They’d been out partying in Visby and were on their way back. That’s why they took such an early ferry. They’re renting a cottage from a farm family. We’ve asked the couple to be here at one o’clock for an interview. They’ll be going home on a boat this afternoon.’
‘OK, we’ll have to wait and see whether we should let them go.’
‘The woman travelling by herself is married and lives in Kyllaj.’
‘All year round? I thought there were only summer homes out there.’
‘No, she and her family actually live there permanently, but I think they’re practically the only ones. There might be one other family.’
Karin had been out to Kyllaj only once in her life. It had been for a summertime party when she was thirteen, and she’d had her first kiss down at the beach. It was a lovely memory, and the little village by the sea had a special place in her heart.
She pushed the thought aside.
‘Will she be coming in too?’
‘No. She’s pregnant, and fairly far along from what I understand. She asked if we could do the interview on the phone, but I explained that wasn’t possible; we need to see her in person. Apparently she has a hard time getting around; she said something about pelvic girdle pain.’
‘If she’s about to give birth, she probably has other things on her mind besides our investigation, but of course she might have seen something,’ said Jacobsson. ‘I’d be happy to go out to Kyllaj; I haven’t been there since I was
