Mourning in Malmoe

Torquil MacLeod

Description

Shortly after Inspector Anita Sundstroem's mother's death, Anita is called to an apartment where an 80-year-old man with dementia has tried to kill his wife. The case sparks off a renewed interest in the death of her father, who was lost in the 1994 MS Estonia ferry disaster. It's not long before she discovers that she's stumbled into a tangled web of conspiracy theories surrounding the tragedy, and the unstable and violent dawn of a newly independent Estonia. At the same time, Anita's also involved in an investigation into the murder of a prominent member of Malmoe's Pakistani community. When she's sidelined by her nemesis, Alice Zetterberg, she becomes more determined to discover the reasons behind her father's fate. She soon finds herself entering very dangerous waters that sweep her to Tallin, Stockholm and Oxford in search of answers that will finally give her closure in the seventh of the best-selling series of Anita Sundstroem crime mysteries.

Informations

• Publié par: Distributed by eBookpartnership
• Date de parution: 01 mars 2020
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9780957519091
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

MOURNING IN MALM
The seventh Inspector Anita Sundstr m mystery
by TORQUIL MACLEOD
Copyright Torquil MacLeod
2020
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without express written permission of the Publisher.
Published by Torquil MacLeod Books Ltd.
eBook edition: 2020
ISBN 978-0-9575190-9-1
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.torquilmacleodbooks.com
eBook conversion by www.ebookpartnership.com
Also by Torquil MacLeod:
The Malm Mysteries
(in order)
Meet me in Malm
Murder in Malm
Missing in Malm
Midnight in Malm
A Malm Midwinter (novella)
Menace in Malm
Malice in Malm
Jack Flyford Misadventures (Historical crime)
Sweet Smell of Murder
Dedication
To my grandson and all those with type 1 diabetes.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
NOTES
Acknowledgements
About the author

PROLOGUE
The ship lurched. The crossing had been getting progressively rougher. Jens Ullman knew that he should have gone to his cabin when his two friends, David and Sven, had retired for the night, but he was enjoying the company of the young Estonian man Romet in the Admiral bar. Romet turned out to be a fledgling electrical engineer who was studying in Stockholm and was keen to hear about Jens s experiences at Electrolux. As Jens wobbled over with another drink from the bar - this would definitely be the last - he noticed that it was nearly one o clock in the morning. He wasn t bothered - the drink and convivial conversation were warding off the seasickness he d felt a couple of hours after their slightly late 19:15 departure from Tallinn.
Romet thanked Jens for the beer. The waves were crashing against the windows. There weren t many other drinkers left, though a bunch of Swedes were still noisily making the most of the end of their holiday. Jens hoped that they d have time to recover before going back to work. He himself had the rest of the week off.
Have you got a family? Romet asked. Like all the questions he posed, it sounded as though he was genuinely interested in the answer.
Yes. One daughter and one grandson, Jens said with pride. They live in Lund. My son-in-law, Bj rn, lectures at the university. English. I think he s what you call an academic high-flyer. He ll do well.
Is your daughter at home?
No. Anita was off work for a while after she had Lasse but she s back now. She s in the police.
The police? Romet said with surprise. His experience of the Estonian police in the recent pre-independence days had not been good.
Yes. I ve no idea why she went in for it. Enjoys it, though.
Jens fished a photograph from his wallet. He held it out for Romet to inspect. It was a close-up of a family group: a young blond boy sitting between his parents.
I didn t think policewomen could be so attractive, Romet found himself saying, the drink having loosened his tongue. She had shoulder-length, blonde hair, parted in the middle. Her high cheekbones were accentuated by the spectacles she wore, framing bright, laughing eyes. The mouth was shapely, the lips not too thin. It was a mouth that was used to creasing into a smile. She looked truly happy. Sorry, Romet quickly apologized.
Jens gave him an indulgent grin. That s OK. I think she s the most beautiful girl in the world, though she can be strong-willed, he added as an afterthought. Once she gets an idea into her head... He took the photo back and looked at it. Lasse has brought new meaning to my life. He ll be four in November. He shook his head in disbelief. They grow so fast. You know, I was dreading being a grandfather. That melted away the moment I saw him.
They look a contented couple, Romet remarked, hoping to atone for his earlier slip.
They are. Long may it last. I m afraid Anita s mother and I haven t set them a very good example.
Separated?
Divorced.
I m sorry. Romet found himself apologizing again.
The ferry gave another lurch, sending their drinks sliding across the table. Romet caught them both before they vanished, though the beer splashed onto the plastic surface.
Quick reflexes, said Jens with admiration.
Romet smiled as he took out a handkerchief and wiped his fingers. I play handball.
The ferry suddenly rose and fell in quick succession. This time, Jens had his glass clasped in his hand. It was clear that Romet was nervous about the excessive movement.
Don t worry. These ships are well built. Wave collisions like this are just like turbulence on an aircraft.
I ve never flown.
Ah.
Jens drained his glass. I think it s time I made for my cabin. He got up and nearly stumbled as the ship rolled again. Night, Romet. Maybe see you before we dock in Stockholm tomorrow.
As Jens got to the bar door, he heard a loud bang. It was like an explosion, and it penetrated through the general hum of the ship. He steadied himself and made for the stairwell. He wasn t too worried; it would be something or nothing. But as the ship reared again, he was unbalanced and found himself tumbling down the narrow staircase. He was momentarily dazed. Recovering, he realized the ship had listed dramatically. It took him a moment to work out that the configuration of the corridor was all awry - everything was tilted. He staggered to his feet. Something was seriously wrong. He must get to his cabin and warn his friends. The ship should have righted itself by now. As he wobbled along, cabin doors were swinging open at unnatural angles. Passengers began to emerge; most of them half asleep, many of them alarmed. He heard children crying. A woman screamed. The ferry groaned.
He reached the next stairwell. People were desperately pushing their way upwards. He forced his way down the steps but could hardly move when he reached the bottom. He tried to negotiate the constricted corridor full of yelling, terrified passengers. Another massive creaking and a further tilt lifted him off his feet. He landed awkwardly and felt a sharp pain in his ankle. He was pushed aside and he crashed through one of the cabin doors, which had now, owing to the list of the ship, become part of the floor. Winded, with his ankle and ribs hurting, he found himself in a darkened room, his back against the porthole. In increasing pain, he managed to winch himself up to the door opening by using the handles. Lights were still on in the corridor when he got out. There was now no point trying to find David and Sven - they would have to fend for themselves. Then he felt water seeping into his shoes. The decks below must already be flooded, including the one where his friends were sleeping. Cradling his ribs with his left arm, he gingerly stepped round the frames of the cabin doors, avoiding the gaping holes where the doors had swung open, and reached the stairwell, now askew. It was little more than a metre wide, and the angle was so acute that he was forced onto his knees. Clutching the handrail, he eased himself along as though he was wriggling through a shaft. In front of him was a frightened child being steered by a frantic mother. A man in underwear elbowed his way past them all, and the child slid backwards into Jens. He pushed him onwards, instinctively aware that every second counted. His engineer s brain was asking why the ship was going over so quickly. It should be righting itself by now.
At the end of the stairwell, he staggered on, ignoring the screams and pleas around him. The ship s loudspeaker burst through the panic and a woman s strained voice repeated the word Haire . He didn t understand the Estonian. Then he found himself in an enormous space: it was the nightclub. He d been in here on the trip over from Stockholm. Except now, the large dance floor had morphed into a mountain, its slope sheer and slippery. At the bottom, he was surrounded by debris - loose chairs, broken bottles and glasses, coffee cups and ash trays, items of cast-off clothing - and people; unconscious, dazed or dead. Anything that wasn t nailed down had slid into this gruesome abyss.
Jens s strength was ebbing away. He was aware that his ribs were broken and his shoulder and ankle were throbbing. He was an out-of-condition, fifty-four-year-old, and the effort of getting this far had sapped his energy. Only adrenaline was keeping him going - and the thought that if he didn t make it up that slope, he d never see Anita and Lasse again. He knew that the nightclub was on an upper deck - and there was an exit to the outside. Make the climb out of here and he would be on the port side and well above the water. Then there would be a chance.
Jens recognized his only hope was to use the floor-mounted tables as arm bars and foot jams, as though he was on a rock face. He couldn t do it slowly and methodically as he didn t have the physical