Bäckström 02 He Who Kills the Dragon by Leif G. W. Persson

Author:Leif G. W. Persson [Persson, Leif G. W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780307907684
Publisher: Vintage Books
Published: 2015-01-19T21:00:00+00:00

41.

While Toivonen was having his confidential chat with Sneaker, Bäckström was holding an extra meeting with his investigating team as a result of the murder of Septimus Akofeli.

As usual, Niemi had begun the meeting. He had accompanied the body to the Institute of Forensic Medicine while Chico Hernandez took another colleague back to Akofeli’s flat to do the forensic examination. Now they were both in the room.

“He was strangled,” Niemi said. “That was the single cause of death. Otherwise there are no injuries to the body. He was completely naked, by the way. Strangled with a noose that was tied at the back of the neck, the marks from the knot are still there. If you ask me, I’d say he was conscious and was taken by surprise when it happened.”

“Why do you think that?” Annika Carlsson said.

“He’s got marks on his fingers. The sort you get when you’re trying to untie a noose. For instance, a couple of the nails are broken, even though he had very short nails.”

“What sort of noose do you think it was?” Bäckström said.

“As far as the noose is concerned—and we haven’t found it, of course—it seems to have been fairly narrow. It could be anything from a sturdy shoelace, a washing line, maybe a standard electric cable, even the cord from some blinds. Personally I’d say the thinner type of electric cable.”

“Why?” Annika Carlsson asked.

“Because that would be best,” Niemi said with a wry smile. “Easiest to tighten. You just pull it tight and knot it, and it stays tight, and you’re done.”

“You mean this was done by a professional?” Alm said.

“Don’t know,” Niemi said, shrugging. “But I don’t really think so. How many professional stranglers have we got in this country? All the commandos and Special Forces, and the Yugoslavs who made such a mess of the Balkans. Well, according to them, anyway, but they seem to be able to keep their fingers under control here at home.

“The perpetrator is seriously strong. He’s taller than Akofeli, I can tell you that much,” Niemi said.

“Like whoever killed Danielsson,” Bäckström said.

“Yes, the same thought struck me,” Niemi said.

“What about time of death?” Bäckström said.

“I’d guess the same day he disappeared,” Niemi said. “In other words, Friday, May sixteenth, sometime that morning, afternoon, or evening.”

“Why do you say that?” Bäckström said.

“Not that we have any evidence on the body to confirm that. But that’s the way it usually is these days. When they stop using their phones, when they don’t turn up for work, don’t use their bank cards, when their usual routine is broken. That’s when something’s happened. It’s nearly always like that,” Niemi said, nodding emphatically.

So the bastard Finn isn’t entirely stupid, thought Bäckström, who had been using the same rule of thumb for thirty years.

“The body’s in good condition,” Niemi went on. “Strangled, naked, folded up, wrapped in black plastic and sealed up with ordinary duct tape, then stuffed into his own newspaper cart. The plastic is from three different bags, normal black bin bags.

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