Free Murder in Malmö: The second Inspector Anita Sundström mystery (Inspector Anita Sundström mysteries) by Torquil MacLeod Page B

killer. And that fact was killing her too - inside.
    As she neared Ystad she wrenched her mind back to the weekend. But it wasn’t going to be all play and no work. She would call into the gallery in Ystad to check out their Munk theft. In fact, she had decided that she would have a word with Pelle Munk himself. It was a long shot, but he might have an angle on the robberies.
    Moberg was glad that he had brought Wallen along. She was the only one who could figure out how to operate the Ekmans’ coffee maker. She also had worked out in which cupboard the coffee was stored. The kitchen was straight out of a style magazine. Spacious, gleaming, ultra-modern, with every appliance and gadget known to woman. Not Moberg’s sort of thing. But just the kind of fitted kitchen that all three of his wives had nagged him about getting installed. All had been disappointed. He couldn’t justify the money to himself. As long as there was enough room to prepare his meals, then that was all that counted.
    He had brought together the nucleus of the investigating team to Ekman’s apartment. He wanted Nordlund, Westermark and Wallen to get a feel for the place – to understand the environment in which their victim lived. To maybe discover a little more about Tommy Ekman himself. The truth was that they were going nowhere. Official pressure was starting to build. The news was in the papers this morning that Tommy Ekman had died in “suspicious” circumstances. They weren’t revealing any more at this stage. The ease with which the murder had been carried out was not the sort of information that they wanted the general public to absorb. There were enough nutters out there who might want to have a go themselves if details were released. Fortunately, Sydsvenskan were more interested in speculating about the identity of the gunman behind the latest immigrant shooting to make a big splash about the death of some advertising executive. All three victims had survived, but ballistics had confirmed that the same gun had been used in both attacks.
    All four officers sat round the large kitchen table with their coffees. Westermark had even found some Gille cinnamon biscuits, which Moberg was already ploughing his way through. Kristina Ekman could afford to replace them.
    ‘Right, have we anything new?’ Moberg’s question was more in hope than expectation.
    ‘I managed to get hold of Ekman’s PA.’
    ‘Well?’ Moberg had tried not to bark but Wallen had been startled by his tone.
    ‘Viktoria Carlsson. That’s her name.’ Difficult cases, especially ones that didn’t have a proper focus, didn’t improve Moberg’s mood. Yet he managed to restrict himself to a heavy sigh and not a “fucking get on with it”, which was on the tip of his tongue.
    ‘Right...em... she said that Tommy Ekman kept a spare set of apartment keys in his office.’
    ‘Oh, bloody fantastic,’ groaned Westermark.
    ‘Apparently Ekman had lost his keys once when his wife was away and couldn’t get into the apartment. So, from then on he kept a spare set at the office. If he couldn’t get in he could pop back to the office and get the other keys. A precaution.’
    ‘And who knew about these keys?’ Moberg asked.
    ‘Viktoria didn’t know, but she assumed it was reasonably common knowledge. It was a joke around the office, about the occasion he was locked out. He didn’t like to appear foolish, so he wasn’t happy when the story came out.’
    ‘Where were the keys kept?’ Moberg asked.
    ‘In his desk drawer.’
    ‘Locked?’
    ‘Usually, but sometimes not. He didn’t always remember to lock it.’
    ‘And the day of the presentation?’
    ‘Viktoria wasn’t sure. But they were there the night before because she saw Ekman put them back in the drawer just as she was leaving work. She assumes he didn’t lock it, as it was unlocked the next morning.’
    Moberg blew out his ample cheeks. ‘So, anybody at the agency could have walked into his apartment if