“So,” he said, “what is it this time?”
“I’d like to ask you a few more questions.”
Thomas ignored the obvious antipathy coming from Fahlén. This time he was determined to back the man into a corner. He sat down; Fahlén moved to the other side of the table, as far away from Thomas as possible.
“I’m interested in your company. I believe it’s been doing much better over the past few years? You’ve made an impressive profit since the millennium, as I understand it.”
“What’s it to you?”
“Could you answer the question, please?”
Fahlén glanced around. “Things have gone pretty well. There’s nothing odd about that. We’ve been successful for years.”
“How do you explain the fact that your profits have tripled?”
“We’ve put the effort in. If you work hard, you make money. It’s no mystery.”
“You must have worked extremely hard. As far as I can see, your profit margin is much higher than the industry norm.”
“Is that against the law?”
“That’s not what I said. But it’s rather unusual. I’d be interested to hear how you’ve achieved such excellent results.” He leaned back in his chair.
Fahlén stood up abruptly and went over to the sink. He took a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water. He kept his back to Thomas as he drank.
“Did you understand the question?” Thomas asked.
No response.
Thomas spoke more sharply. “Answer the question.”
Fahlén turned around, an aggressive look in his eye. “Are you deaf? I just told you, we’ve worked hard. Picked up new clients, secured large orders. That’s what happens when you do business.” He turned back to the sink. “Isn’t a man allowed to work in this fucking police state these days without some asshole turning up and quizzing him?”
A thick silence spread through the room. Thomas waited, not moving a muscle.
The only sound came from Philip Fahlén’s throat as he gulped down more water.
“Who’s Marianne Strindberg?” Thomas asked.
Fahlén gave a start. “What?”
“Could you tell me who Marianne Strindberg is?”
“She’s a member of my board.”
“Why?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I’d like to know why she’s on the board. She hasn’t been there very long, has she?”
“She’s an economist. I thought it would be useful to have someone like her.”
“And you suddenly realized this four years ago, having managed perfectly well for many years with only your father on the board?”
“What’s my father got to do with this?” Fahlén was extremely agitated.
Thomas decided it was time for a change of tack. “How come the payment to your board members has gone up from fifty thousand to six hundred thousand kronor since Marianne Strindberg joined?”
“That’s none of your business,” said Fahlén, tearing off a paper towel and mopping his brow. “But if you must know, I thought it was time I paid the board members a little more. Is that not allowed?” He spread his arms wide and looked at Thomas.
“Of course, but it’s rather unusual,” Thomas said as he studied the fat man’s expression. “Would you like to know what I think?”
“Not really.”
Thomas decided there was no point in beating around the bush. “I think you raised the fees payable to board members because you had to pay Marianne Strindberg for the services supplied by her husband.”
Fahlén tried to appear unmoved, but then he turned pale and reached out a hand to lean against the sink.
Thomas fixed his gaze on Fahlén. “I happen to know that Marianne Strindberg, who is a member of your board, is married to Viking Strindberg, who works for Systemet. And I have a feeling this same Viking Strindberg helps you out with special deliveries; he smuggles out wine and spirits, which you sneak into various restaurants along with the equipment you supply, and your clients reward you handsomely. This additional source of income is the reason your turnover suddenly increased so significantly, and it explains why you earn so much more than anyone else in the industry.” Thomas leaned back and folded his arms. He stared at Fahlén with a challenging gaze. “That’s what I think,” he said after a moment. His words hung in the air, vibrating with energy long after they had been uttered.
Fahlén had had enough. He wiped his brow again; it was covered in beads of sweat. He pointed at the door with a shaking hand. “Out,” he said. “Get out of my house. You have no right to come here making accusations. I’m calling my lawyer.”
Thomas gazed at him calmly, wondering if he should stay and try to get Fahlén to answer a few more questions.
Fahlén was so agitated that there was spittle at the corners of his mouth. His chin was trembling, and a muscle just below his left eye was twitching.
Thomas decided to leave. There wasn’t much point in trying to wind him up even more. It would be better to bring him into the station as soon as they were absolutely certain of his relationship with Viking Strindberg and had access to his phone records.
Thomas got up and moved to the door. As he opened it he turned back. “I’ll be in touch,” he said. “Soon.”
“Get out,” Fahlén panted. “Get out.”
CHAPTER 59
Henrik walked into the kitchen, seething.
Nora, who was busy making pancakes for the following day’s trip to Grönskär, raised her eyebrows. “What’s happened?”
“What’s happened is that our new perch net has a great big hole in it,” Henrik said. “The boys have been playing in the boathouse, and now we have a ripped net and several tears in the flounder rig. It’s going to take forever to repair them, and I was supposed to be out laying nets with Hasse Christiansson today.”
Nora tried to look sympathetic. “It’s not the end of the world.”
Henrik looked angry, and Nora backtracked.
“I realize you’re annoyed, but we can always buy a new one. I suppose that’s why we get child benefits, to pay for all the trouble they cause,” she joked.
Henrik was still mad. “They have to learn to be careful with things. I’m sick and tired of them leaving their stuff all over the place and breaking everything.” He stood at the bottom of the stairs and shouted. “Simon, Adam, get down here right now. I want to talk to you.”
“We haven’t done anything,” came the chorus from their bedroom.
“Get down here, I said.”
“Couldn’t you ask Signe if you can borrow a net? She’s got lots,” Nora suggested. She was trying to avoid a fight and to rescue the fishing trip at the same time.
Henrik allowed himself to be appeased and lowered his voice. “Can’t you ask her? You know her better than I do.”
“Of course,” Nora said, relieved that the crisis seemed to have been averted. “I’ll go over in a minute when I’ve finished these pancakes.”
Nora opened the beautiful handmade double gate leading to the Brand house. She walked up to the front door and knocked. There were no doorbells on Sandhamn. The door would be left open, and you would just shout out a cautious “hello” before walking in, or knock loudly. Either approach was fine, as long as you announced your presence in some way.
Signe opened the door wearing her usual apron, the one Nora had seen her in for so many years. Sometimes Nora wondered whether Signe, like the Phantom with all his outfits in the Skull Cave, had an endless supply of identical aprons hidden away somewhere, so she could just bring out a new one when the old one wore out.