Free Misterioso by Arne Dahl, Tiina Nunnally

didn’t. Daggfeldt was a family sailor; he always took Ninni and his children along when he went sailing in the
Maxi
. I remember that his older daughter, she must be eighteen or nineteen, was getting a bit tired of it all, and the son, who’s a couple of years younger, wasn’t particularly amused either. And Ninni would get seasick before she even left the pier. But she was always cheerful and enthusiastic. ‘Hearty but seasick,’ Daggfeldt used to say with a laugh.
    “But it was important to him to have his whole family along. That was probably the only time they were all together. Though things could get a bit testy out among the skerries. That was my impression, at least.”
    Hjelm was surprised at how much this man had been able to learn from a few chats about sailing areas and weather forecasts. “What about Strand-Julén?” he asked, to keep him talking.
    “That was a whole different story. A serious-minded skipper.He had one of those Swan boats, not the large kind, so it could still squeeze into the small-boat marina. Always with a crew that seemed very professional, two or three young men with the best equipment, different each time. Fancy new clothes, the best brands.”
    “Different each time?”
    “The crew. But they always looked well trained. Highly skilled, the type of guys who take part in the Whitbread Round the World Race, just to mention the one that everybody would know. But younger, of course. They had a certain look about them. Like swimmers do—you know how they all have the same body type.”
    “In this case very young and blond and tanned? And the equipment was newly purchased each time?”
    The man blinked a few times and frowned. Probably at his own loose tongue. But his reaction was a little too strong for that.
There’s more going on here
, thought Hjelm.
Better lay it on thick
.
    “Okay,” he said, taking a chance. “I don’t give a shit about whether Bernhard Strand-Julén was a pedophile and liked to have thirty-five young boys in—what should we say, the sack?—at the same time. But do you have any idea where I could find any of those boys? The man is beyond the reach of the law now—he’s untouchable.”
    “His reputation isn’t untouchable. Standing in judgment over a dead man, and so on. And he does have a wife, you know.”
    “It’s possible,” ventured Hjelm again, “that you never actually played the role of pimp. But if you don’t give me a little more information, I’m going to see that every detail of the situation is investigated. Homosexual procurement activities, possibly involving minors, at one of Sweden’s most prestigious boat clubs. So let’s try again. The rumor is enough. You know that, Mr. Lindviken.”
    The man chewed on his knuckles. The interview had taken a most unpleasant turn.
    Exploit the guy’s confusion
, thought Hjelm.
Somewhere behind it all there’s some form of guilt
.
    “Ten seconds. Then I’m going to take you down to headquarters for a proper interrogation.”
    “Good Lord, I haven’t done anything wrong! All I’ve done is keep my mouth shut about what I’ve seen. A big part of my job down here is not to see or speak.”
    “At the moment, it looks like you personally, Arthur Lindviken, are behind a big pedophile operation in Viggbyholm. The more names and addresses you can produce within the next ten seconds, the greater the chance that you won’t have to see this appalling suspicion reflected in the eyes of every single member here. Not to mention the judge. Seven seconds left. Five.”
    “Wait!” shouted Lindviken. “I have to get …”
    He stumbled over to a painting that hung on the wall and lifted it off. Then he wildly spun the dial on the combination lock of a wall safe, got it open, took out a thick accordion file, and reached into the pocket labeled
S
. He pulled out a postcard adorned with a statue of Dionysus that was impressive in every sense of the word. A truly erect god. Written faintly in pencil