Chapter 63
Daniel and Hanna are waiting in the conference room. Espen Lund has gone to fetch Paul Lehto so they can question him at last.
Hanna is getting restless. She can’t sit still, and keeps fiddling with her phone.
“We need to press Lehto as hard as we can,” she says, pushing back her chair.
She goes over to the window, rests her forehead on the glass, and closes her eyes, as if she is trying to gather her strength.
Daniel knows exactly how she feels. He is also finding it hard to shake off the oppressive atmosphere after the conversation with Espen.
The more they found out about poor Aada Kuus, the more tragic her death appeared.
“We have no forensic evidence linking Lehto to either of the crime scenes,” Daniel points out. “Just information about an argument at reception.”
“He’s a huntsman, so no doubt he can handle a hunting knife,” Hanna counters. “Plus he owns a snow scooter and works at the hotel. We know there was a confrontation between him and Charlotte on Sunday—that’s confirmed by two witnesses.”
Everything she says is correct, but without concrete evidence it’s irrelevant.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a murderer,” Daniel says.
Hanna sighs loudly, then sits back down again.
“I know, I’m just so frustrated. I can’t bear it that another woman is dead. It feels as if it happened right under our noses. What aren’t we seeing?”
Daniel wishes he had an answer for her.
The big question is whether the quarrel at reception triggered the first murder.
Is it likely that the incident made Paul Lehto so angry that he spontaneously, without any preparations, crept up to the Silver Suite and took the life of the troublesome guest?
Then strangled Aada Kuus with her own scarf?
It doesn’t sound reasonable, but he has seen other cases where an apparently minor event has led to a disproportionately violent reaction.
Deep human impulses such as anger, hatred, and desire are not always logical.
They can’t rule out the possibility that Paul was so incensed that his emotions took over that night. There doesn’t seem to have been any previous contact between him and Charlotte, except that she was staying in the hotel where he worked.
There is a knock on the door.
“Come in!”
Daniel recognizes Paul from his passport photo. He is slightly overweight and has dark stubble on his chin, as if he needs to shave twice a day.
“Espen said you wanted to talk to me?”
“We do have a few questions—take a seat.”
Hanna fixes him with her gaze. “Why haven’t you been at work for the past few days?”
Daniel has no objection to her direct approach. There is no point in pussyfooting around at this stage.
“I was sick.” Paul’s tone is defensive. “Surely Espen told you that?”
“We’ve been trying to contact you, but you didn’t answer your phone.”
Paul shrugs, which irritates Hanna.
“We sent a patrol car to your home, but no one answered the door. How do you explain that?”
“I must have been asleep.”
Daniel isn’t convinced, but they need more than this to regard him as a suspect.
“We heard that there was a confrontation between you and Charlotte Wretlind on Sunday,” he says. “Did you stay home because you were afraid you might be a murder suspect?”
“We have eyewitnesses who were there at the time of the argument,” Hanna adds. “What was it about?”
Paul sucks in his lower lip so far that it almost disappears. “Who told you that?”
“That’s irrelevant,” Daniel replies calmly. “We just want to hear your version of what happened.”
“Was it Iris? Is she the one who gossiped?”
“It would be better if you answered the question. This is not about your colleague.”
Paul looks furious, but Daniel isn’t sure whether his anger is directed at Iris or the two police officers. There is an uncomfortable silence; then Paul inhales audibly through his nose.
“Okay, so Sunday was chaotic. All forms of transport were delayed because of the blizzard in central Sweden, which meant that a large number of guests arrived at the same time. I got them checked in as fast as I could, but it was impossible to please some of them. They took out their frustration on us, as if the bad weather was our fault.”
He sounds surprisingly bitter, and Daniel wonders why he works at a hotel if he dislikes the guests so much.
“These rich bastards from Stockholm . . . They don’t give a damn. They think they have a right to everything, and they treat the staff however they like just because they can afford to stay in an expensive hotel. As if we’re not people too.”
Daniel listens to the accent. It sounds as if Paul grew up in the far north of Sweden, maybe in Tornedalen on the border with Finland?
Could that be the explanation behind his contempt for the big city, for the unmistakable anger?
“In the middle of all the chaos that woman showed up and started acting up. She literally tried to push her way to the front of the line. She was complaining about the cleaning and the lack of toilet tissue. I did my best to calm her down, but at the same time it was my job to take care of those who were ahead of her. When I asked her to wait, she got even madder. And then . . .”
“What happened then?” Hanna prompts him.
“A tall vase crashed to the floor. I hadn’t put it there, but I got the blame.”
He shakes his head, clearly upset by the recollection. He obviously believes he was treated unfairly.
“It was such a mess, and Charlotte Wretlind just kept on. She criticized everything I did, and threatened to speak to my boss. She was crazy, if you ask me.”
“So what did you do?”
“Again, I tried to calm her down as best I could. I don’t think I actually shouted at her.
I might have raised my voice a little, but it was no more than that.
It wasn’t a ‘confrontation’ as you put it.
” He spreads his hands wide. “Iris must have exaggerated. She does that sometimes. I’m afraid she’s the kind of person who likes to gossip about her colleagues. ”
Paul doesn’t seem to have any idea that Iris wasn’t the only one to report the incident.
The original tip-off came from the man in the concierge department.
Nor does he appear to be aware of the irony in criticizing Iris for going behind his back while he’s busy bad-mouthing her during this interview.
Daniel decides not to bring this up at the moment, but he can see from the skeptical look on Hanna’s face that she is thinking along the same lines.
“So what happened after that?”
“The woman became hysterical. It wouldn’t surprise me if she was menopausal, the way she behaved. She said I’d regret it and a load of other crap before she stormed off.”
His insistence on blaming the argument on Charlotte and his comment on her hormonal cycle doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in his account.
“At the time I didn’t give it any more thought because I was so busy. It wasn’t until the following day when I realized she was the one who’d been murdered during the night that it felt kind of . . . awkward.”
“What did you do after the quarrel?” Daniel asks.
“I carried on working.”
“So that was the last time you saw Charlotte Wretlind alive?” Hanna clarifies.
“It was, yes.”
Hanna chews the end of her pen. “Did you ever enter the Silver Suite while Charlotte was staying there?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Absolutely.”
Paul is sitting with his fists clenched. Is it because he is finding the conversation stressful?
Or is he lying?
“What did you do for the rest of the evening?”
“I finished my shift, got changed, and fetched the car from the parking garage to drive home.”
“And what time was that?”
“Let me think . . . I finished around eleven.”
“Is there anyone who can confirm what time you arrived home?”
“My wife. You’re welcome to speak to her if you like.”
“Was she really awake when you got home so late?” Hanna wonders.
Paul doesn’t answer. Hanna waits patiently. Eventually he says reluctantly, “Come to think of it, she was asleep.”
“So there’s no one who can confirm the time you actually arrived back home,” Daniel pushes him.
The sun is shining in through the window, water is dripping from the gutter outside, and thousands of snow crystals sparkle in the early spring light. The icicles hanging from the roof are shimmering.
The contrast makes the indoor environment feel even darker and more oppressive.
Hanna changes tack.
“You have a gun license and you hunt. Do you own a hunting knife?”
Daniel thinks of the bloodstained knife they found buried in the snow the previous day. The forensic examination has yet to be completed. If they manage to find just one fingerprint, it will be an enormous step forward.
And if they find any trace of Paul Lehto, that would be the end of the matter.
“I do.” The question seems to bother him. “Why?”
“We’ll need to see it,” Hanna replies.
Paul opens his mouth as if to protest, then closes it again. Hanna makes a note before looking up at him.
“How well did you know Aada Kuus?”
“Who?”
“The cleaner who was found murdered this morning outside the staff-accommodation block.”
“There’s been another murder?” Paul exclaims.
Daniel tries to read his expression. He seems surprised, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s genuine, or whether he’s simply a talented actor. Daniel has conducted countless interviews, but this guy is unusually difficult to read.
“You don’t know who she is?”
Paul shakes his head. The sound of someone vacuuming the corridor can be heard outside the door. “No idea.”
“Are you sure?”
“I swear.”
His tone is eager, as if he wants to convince everyone in the room, himself included, that he is telling the truth.
“Where were you yesterday evening?” Daniel asks.
“I was at home. In Krok.”
“With your wife?”
“Yes—ask her if you don’t believe me.”
“You were there all evening? You didn’t go out at all?”
“I took the dog for a walk—I was gone for maybe half an hour.”
Paul brushes away what might be a bead of sweat from his forehead. Daniel would have liked to hand him a napkin, then keep it in order to compare his DNA with the fragmentary traces Carina has collected.
“Do you suspect me of something?” he says hoarsely.
Daniel glances at Hanna. They are reaching the limit of how far they can push him. There is a risk that Paul will call a halt to the interview and demand a lawyer.
“We’d like to take a DNA sample if that’s okay.” Daniel is careful to keep his tone neutral.
“Why?”
“It’s just routine,” Hanna explains. “It will help us to rule out your presence in the Silver Suite, where Charlotte Wretlind was found on Monday morning.”
Or at the place where Aada’s body was discovered today, Daniel thinks.
There is a sudden flash of steel in Paul’s eyes. He might be stressed, but he is no fool. He gets to his feet.
“No. I want to speak to a lawyer before I agree to anything.”