The Demon of Dakar - Kjell Eriksson [68]
Liljendahl nodded and then looked doubtfully at Lindell.
“I was thinking of something,” she said. “Sidström was stabbed and you have a stabbing homicide, don’t you? It was done with a knife, wasn’t it?”
Lindell nodded and understood where she was going with this.
“Could there be a connection?” Liljendahl continued.
Lindell hesitated for a split second.
“Do you have time? We could have a quick cup of coffee and talk about it.”
They sat down in a corner of the cafeteria on the ground level. Two tables away there was an older couple, the man wearing hospital clothing and the woman palpably concerned that he drink all his juice.
“You need liquids,” she said.
The man shook his head but picked up the glass and took a sip.
Both policewomen observed the couple for a while before they quietly began to talk.
Liljendahl told her about her case, how Sidström had been assaulted, without prior provocation, according to him. He had been in Sävja to take a look around, as he put it, because he was thinking of moving there. He was currently living in Svartbäcken.
He had only a diffuse memory of the events. He could not give a description or age of the person who stabbed him, he could also not recall if it had been one or more persons involved. This was not unheard of in these circumstances, but Liljendahl did not believe him.
“I think he knows the perp and does not want to reveal his identity,” she said. “He lies constantly and has done so his entire life. His list of priors is three pages long. Mostly drug-related offenses but even assault and exhortation. A little shit.
“On the other hand we have witnesses, primarily a couple who were barbecuing on their patio about fifty meters away, who saw three, perhaps four young men attack him. They appeared to have been involved in a loud discussion before the knife came out, but Sidström denies this.”
“Any suspects?”
“We have a very likely suspect, a young guy who goes by the name of Zero. He’s laying low but will probably turn up soon. His mother, and above all his brothers, are insanely angry. They have mobilized the entire clan in order to find him.
“They are Turkish or Kurdish,” she added when she saw Lindell’s expression.
“Do you have any reason to suspect that Sidström was in Sävja with criminal intent?” Lindell asked, and was struck by the officious tone of her own words.
“Drugs,” Liljendahl said simply. “Most likely cocaine. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but this town is swimming in cocaine. In the past, cocaine was a trendy drug that did not appear on the street. It gives a similar kick to an amphetamine but is more expensive. The usual drug users choose amphetamines. But now the tide appears to have turned. I think the supply has increased and driven down the price.”
“How much does it cost?” Lindell asked.
“A gram goes for around eight hundred kronor. That is enough for ten doses. Amphetamines cost around two hundred.”
“Isn’t cocaine what they chew in South Africa?”
“Yes, the leaves, but that’s mostly to be able to bear the work and the cold. Haven’t you seen those pictures of Bolivian miners?”
Lindell hadn’t, but she nodded anyway.
“And you believe there’s a possible connection with the homicide?”
“Knife and knife,” Liljendahl said.
Lindell sipped her coffee. The doughnut she had bought lay untouched. It probably wouldn’t taste as good as Ottosson’s. Of course, she thought, there was something to what her colleague was saying. Knives were not exactly unusual, but two incidents so close in time, perhaps …
“I have a list,” Liljendahl said, pulling a folder out of her bag, locating a piece of paper and handing it to Lindell.
She’s good, Lindell thought, and ran here eyes down the list of names of Sidström’s old acquaintances. Lindell recognized many of the names, but there was one name in particular that caught her attention.
“Can you make a copy and toss it up to me later?”
“No problem,” Liljendahl said, with a tweak of satisfaction around her mouth.
Ann’s resolve to go see Viola had deteriorated after