The Demon of Dakar - Kjell Eriksson [61]
“Okay,” Ottosson said, “the gay thread is the only aspect of interest we have from the apartment, if I understood you correctly, Allan?”
Fredriksson nodded.
“Berglund?”
“We have conducted initial sessions of questioning with most of the staff at Dakar and Alhambra, altogether seventeen people. Half a dozen are missing. Someone is traveling, another at a funeral, a third we have been unable to reach, and a fourth is actually in the midst of another investigation, but I think it’s a coincidence. Her name is Eva Willman and her teenage son may be involved in the stabbing of an old client of ours. It happened in Sävja recently. Barbro Liljendahl is leading that one.”
“Look into it,” Ottosson said, and Berglund gave him a long look before resuming.
“It’s the usual crowd, some who have worked in the restaurant business for a long time, others are more temporary, especially among the waitstaff. If we increase this to look at employees from the past few years that adds another ten, fifteen people. If we can rely on the medical examiner’s report and assume that Armas died early or late afternoon, then most of these people have alibis. They were working. The rest are being checked on.”
Berglund accounted for the additional information that the questioning had yielded. Everyone was naturally shocked. None of the staff could provide a self-evident motive for the slaying.
“What did they say about his character, the kind of person he was?” Lindell asked.
“Quiet. Did not make a lot of noise, but from what I gathered he wielded a lot of power. One of the bartenders at Alhambra said he always got nervous when Armas was around. He kept an eye on things, but rarely said anything. It was Slobodan Andersson who stood for the talking.”
“Did he drink?”
“He was basically a teetotaler,” Berglund said.
“Anything about his sexual preferences?” Haver asked.
Berglund shook his head.
“No one could give the name of any girlfriend. But if he was known to be gay that would probably have come out.”
“Can you watch gay porn without being gay?” Beatrice tossed out. The rest of them look at each other and Haver burst out laughing.
“Out with it, boys,” Beatrice said.
“No,” Haver decided, “I have trouble believing that. What do you say, Allan?”
“You would know better than I,” Fredriksson said, making a face.
“A quiet man, ‘hard as a rock,’ as one of the chefs put it, rarely had a drink, ‘dutiful’ said another, not friends with anyone except Slobodan,” Berglund recited.
“Closet homosexual,” Haver added.
“You like that gay stuff, don’t you?” Allan Fredriksson said.
“That’s my thing,” Haver smiled broadly at his colleague.
“There is a guy,” Berglund picked up again, “his name is Olaf González, but apparently goes by Gonzo.”
“What the hell kind of name is that?” Fredriksson asked.
“Norwegian mother, Spanish father,” said Berglund, who hated to be interrupted. “He has worked at Dakar for a couple of years, but was apparently fired a couple of weeks ago. According to the others there was a conflict between him and Armas that led to his termination. No one knew what it was about. According to González himself, he quit saying he was sick of the fascist Slobodan, but had nothing negative to say about Armas.”
“We’ll have to check with Slobodan,” Ottosson said, “but it seems a bit much to slit someone’s throat because they gave you the boot.”“We don’t know what was behind it,” Berglund said.
“Black earnings?” Beatrice suggested.
“I’ve checked with the restaurant unit and according to them Slobodan has been an exemplary citizen the past few years.”
“The tattoo,” Lindell prompted.
“There was actually only one person who had seen it and he could not describe it exactly. He thought it was some kind of animal.”
“Had Armas made any comment about it?”
“The guy didn’t asked him, just saw it by accident when Armas changed his T-shirt once.”
“Damn mysterious,” Ottosson said.
The discussion continued for another half an hour.