“You don’t need to know that,” Thomas said. “Answer the question, please.”

“I was here on Sandhamn from Tuesday to Thursday.”

“What about Sunday and Monday?”

“I needed to be in town, so I went over on the morning boat on Sunday.”

“And what did you do when you got here?”

“I was in the office for a while. I had a few things to sort out.”

“How long were you there?”

Fahlén sighed. “I don’t know. A few hours maybe. My secretary can confirm that I was there; she came in to help me even though it was the weekend.”

“What time did you leave the office?”

“About five thirty, if I remember correctly.”

“And what did you do then?”

“Went back to the apartment. Had something to eat. Watched TV.”

“Where’s your apartment?”

“Vasastan.”

“Were you at home all evening?”

“Yes. I didn’t go out.”

“And when did you travel back to Sandhamn?”

“On Monday.”

“Can you remember exactly when you got back?”

“Sometime after lunch, I think.” Fahlén had had enough. “What is this? An interrogation? I told you last time that if you’re going to question me, I want my lawyer present.”

Thomas tried to calm the irate man. “I only have a couple more questions. Isn’t it easier if we deal with this over the phone, rather than bringing you all the way into town?”

Silence. Thomas wondered for a moment whether Fahlén had hung up but decided he probably wouldn’t dare slam the phone down on a police officer.

“One last question,” came the reluctant response.

“Is there anyone who can confirm that you were in your apartment for the whole of Sunday night?”

“No, there isn’t.”

There was a click in Thomas’s ear. Philip Fahlén had hung up.

CHAPTER 54

Nora was sitting at her desk in the bank.

It was obvious that it was the middle of summer; the open-plan office was deserted. There was no sign of anyone from the legal department, and most computers were switched off.

It was refreshingly quiet on the eighth floor. Nora had placed her now lukewarm latte next to her computer. It had taken less than fifteen minutes to walk to the bank through the sultry heat of the city; the pavement was crowded with eager tourists, snapping away with their cameras.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Philip Fahlén; Thomas had mentioned that they were on their way to see him the previous day. Since she was in town, she might as well take a closer look at his business. The sales could wait.

She logged on and quickly found the number of the local housing office for Värmdö council. A young man answered, wondering how he could help.

“Would you be able to tell me who owns a particular property, if I give you the reference number?” Nora asked.

“Of course, that’s no problem. Where’s the property?”

“On Sandhamn.”

“One moment please.”

There was a brief silence; Nora took a sip of her coffee, which had gone cold.

“The property is owned by a limited company.”

Nora raised her eyebrows. Was it indeed! Philip Fahlén had let his company pick up the tab for his impressive house. She wondered whether he was paying the market rent to the company for the privilege of using the house in high season, as current tax regulations dictated he must.

“What’s the name of the company?”

“Fahlén & Co. Ltd.”

The company Philip Fahlén owned.

“Do you have a registration number for the company?”

“Certainly.”

Nora was given a ten-digit number, which she carefully wrote down. Now she could find out lots of interesting information. First, she went into the Companies Registration Office website, where every Swedish company was listed. The bank was a subscriber and had access to their database, so she could get to all public information, including proof of registration and annual accounts.

Quickly she typed in the number she had been given, and within a second the latest available annual accounts appeared on the screen. She pressed “Print,” then repeated this for the previous nine years. To be on the safe side she also printed out the company’s annual registration certificate so she could see who had been on the board and access their personal details. This certificate also enabled her to see data on the company’s activities.

She then logged into UC, the credit information service, to which the bank also subscribed. The site also provided details of any financial matters investigated by the police. UC registered everything about everyone, both companies and private individuals. It was an invaluable source for anyone who wanted to determine whether a business was creditworthy. Little could be hidden from someone who had access to UC’s database.

Fahlén & Co. appeared to have behaved itself when it came to finances. There were no negative comments, no financial irregularities. The company’s credit rating was good, because its liquidity was high and its debts low. Things were obviously going well.

As soon as Nora had gathered the information she wanted, which amounted to a substantial pile of documents, she put it in a blue folder and slipped it into her bag. Then she shut down the computer. It was time she made her way over to Strandvägen if she were going to catch the next ferry back to Sandhamn.

CHAPTER 55

As usual, the Cinderella was packed with people on their way to the archipelago, but as this was an evening boat mainly intended for commuters and late visitors, Nora had no difficulty finding a table on her own in a quiet corner where she could spread out all her papers.

She took out the blue folder and began to scrutinize the accounts Fahlén & Co. had submitted over the past ten years. As a legal adviser with the bank, she was used to reading accounts and balance sheets in a variety of contexts, and she had always found dealing with figures easy. She had also brought her trusty calculator.

Nora decided to start with the turnover for the past five years. Then she would look at the costs so she could get an idea of the company’s profit margins. She was well aware that the catering industry was not known for its high profit margins; perhaps it was reasonable to assume that this also applied to their suppliers.

Quickly and methodically, she worked through the results for each year. Her fingers flew over the buttons, and her notepad was soon covered in calculations.

After about an hour she decided it was time for a reward, so she went to the cafeteria and bought a cold beer. She nodded to one or two acquaintances from Sandhamn and chatted for a couple of minutes to the man in the ticket office. He couldn’t help commenting on the murders. They were still on everyone’s mind.

She went back to her table and carried on with her analysis. A pattern was beginning to emerge, and with every calculation it was becoming clearer. She had to tell Thomas about this.