Free The Golden Calf by Helene Tursten

possession of narcotics. Both times cocaine was the drug of choice, but the amount was so small that he’d gotten off with light punishments. He had never been in the military
    After working at a Swedish bank for a few years, Bonetti moved to London. He decided to start an investment bank with another Swede whom he’d known since his university days. They met a Norwegian man their age, who was already working in the finance sector and wasn’t happy with his income. He wanted to start something of his own, so he joined his new Swedish friends with the intention of making some fast cash.
    Bonetti’s Swedish business partner was named Joachim Rothstaahl. Irene felt her pulse race as she read the name. Positive confirmation that Bonetti and Rothstaahl were connected! One missing without a trace and the other killed along with another of Bonetti’s later partners. Her head started to spin. She had to make sure she knew exactly how all these people fit together, but the most important fact was established. Seven years earlier, they were already in business together. Perhaps there wasn’t a connection to the three murders, but this fact could be important.
    The Norwegian man was named Erik Dahl. The namedidn’t ring a bell, but she wrote it down for further research. The three business partners, using the right contacts and many elegant meetings at one of London’s finest restaurants, managed to convince numerous businesses and people from Scandinavia to invest money in their management fund, which they named Poundfix. They made sure to have famous English politicians and a lord or two at all their functions so that they would have a cover of respectability.
    In practice, the fund was nothing more than a pyramid scheme. The new money coming into Poundfix was used to pay the high dividends and to redeem the investments when people wanted out. It worked for a while, but the bubble burst when their largest customer, a Norwegian company, demanded an audit. There was no money to audit, since the three partners had already made off with it. Thomas Bonetti had seen the end coming and managed to pull his money out before the ceiling fell in. He had a couple million kroner in his pocket by then.
    Joachim Rothstaahl came through the experience with no more punishment than a good scare. Since he was a Swedish citizen living in England, he couldn’t be forced to face a Norwegian court. Erik Dahl, on the other hand, was the one who had to face the music in Oslo. He was sentenced to seven years in jail for major embezzlement.
    Irene stopped. Could Erik Dahl have been released from prison? Was he now looking for revenge on his former partners? He wouldn’t have been out of prison at the time of Thomas Bonetti’s disappearance, but maybe now? She made a note in her notebook to follow up, when she realized that there was a problem—what was the connection between Erik Dahl and Kjell B:son Ceder? She glanced at the clock and saw it was time for lunch. It had been a fruitful morning.
    T HE OBLIGATORY T HURSDAY pea soup with pancakes was always a favorite. Perhaps a little more thyme in the soupwould have been nice, but there was no need to be petty. Tommy probably didn’t even notice that the soup was lacking as far as herbs were concerned. He was gesturing wildly with his soup spoon to emphasize his points. Irene noticed a drop of mustard fly off the spoon and land on the paper tablecloth. Tommy didn’t see it, or perhaps didn’t care. He was totally caught up in his morning’s research.
    “There’s no way to get a clearer picture of what actually happened on deck that night. Only Kjell B:son Ceder and his wife Marie were there. Perhaps the man who steered the boat might have seen something. Guess who he was?” Tommy grinned, and Irene frowned when he didn’t continue.
    “I have no idea,” she said sourly.
    “Edward Fenton!”
    Irene stared at him. “Fenton? You mean Doctor Fenton? Morgan Fenton?”
    “No, Edward! Morgan