Camilla Lackberg Crime Thrillers 4-6: The Stranger, The Hidden Child, The Drowning. Camilla Lackberg
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to assign to Gösta. Finally he said, ‘Gösta, you find out more about the people who own the house where the body was found in the rubbish bin. I don’t suppose there’s any connection there, but you never know.’
Gösta gave a weary nod. A specific job to do. He could already feel the weight of responsibility.
‘So, that’s that.’ Patrik clapped his hands together as a sign that the meeting was over. ‘We have plenty to do.’ Everyone muttered something in reply and got up. Patrik watched as they filed out of the room. He wondered if they had any idea what was about to hit them when the news broke and the full force of the media was unleashed.
‘This is going to be fantastic! I can smell success a mile away!’ Fredrik Rehn pounded the technician on the back as they sat in the cramped space in the studio bus. They had gone over the footage from the day before and had begun editing. Fredrik liked what he saw. But anything that was good could always be made better.
‘Could we add a few more boos when Tina is singing? What we have on tape sounds a bit skimpy, and I think her performance was so dire that we should amp up the booing from the audience.’ He laughed, and the editing guy nodded enthusiastically. More booing, no problem at all. A bit more sound added on several channels and he could make it seem as though everyone in the audience was on his feet shouting.
‘This lot are priceless,’ Fredrik said with a smile. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. ‘They’re so damned stupid, but they don’t even realize it. Take Tina, for instance – she seriously thinks she’s going to be a big pop star. And yet she can’t even hit a single note right. I talked to the guy who produced her single, and he told me it took every trick in the book just to get her sounding halfway decent. He said she was so off-key that the loudspeaker almost cracked.’ Fredrik laughed and then leaned over the mixing console in front of them. He turned up the volume. ‘Just listen to this. It’s a fucking scream!’ Even the editing guy couldn’t help grinning when he heard her version of ‘I Want to Be Your Little Bunny’. No wonder the Idol jury had slaughtered her.
An authoritative knock on the bus door interrupted their laughter.
‘Come in,’ called Fredrik, turning to see who it was. He didn’t recognize the man who opened the door.
‘Yes? Can I help you?’ At the sight of the police badge he got a queasy feeling in his stomach. This couldn’t be anything good. Or maybe it could, depending on what had happened and how telegenic it might be.
‘So, what can we do for you this time?’ Fredrik chuckled as he stood up to greet the officer.
The policeman came in and found a place to sit among all the cords and cables. He looked around with curiosity.
‘Yes, this is where it all happens,’ said Fredrik proudly. ‘Hard to believe that we can do a programme from this small space that tops the ratings, isn’t it? Of course, some additional work is done back in Stockholm,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘But the creative part is done right here.’
The officer, who introduced himself as Patrik Hedström, nodded politely. Then he cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news,’ he said. ‘It’s about one of your cast members.’
Fredrik rolled his eyes. ‘Okay, who is it this time?’ he asked with a sigh. ‘Let me guess … it’s Uffe up to his old tricks.’ He turned to the editing guy. ‘I told you that Uffe would be the first one to create a little drama, didn’t I?’ Fredrik turned back to the officer, his curiosity rising. He was trying to work out how to get it on tape – whatever it was.
Patrik cleared his throat again and then said softly, ‘Unfortunately one of your cast members has been found dead.’ It was as if a bomb had exploded in the cramped space. The only sound was the hum of the equipment.
‘What did you say?’ asked Fredrik at last, beginning to regain his composure. ‘One of them was found dead? Who was it? And where? How?’ Thoughts whirled in his head. What had happened? And already parts of his brain were forming a media strategy. Nothing like this had ever happened in the middle of shooting a reality show. Sex – yes, followed by the age-old consequences: pregnancy – the Norwegian Big Brother had broken ground with that. Marriage proposals – yes, there the Swedish Big Brother had had a smash hit with Olivier and Carolina. And that attack with the iron pipe on The Bar had been good for several weeks of headlines. But a death! That was something completely new. Absolutely unique.
‘It’s the girl called Barbie. She was found this morning in a …’ Patrik hesitated a moment before he continued, ‘rubbish bin. All indications are that she was killed.’
‘Killed?’ repeated Fredrik. ‘You mean murdered? Was she murdered? Is that what you’re saying? Who did it?’ He probably looked as confused as he felt. This wasn’t on the list of scenarios that had popped into his head.
‘We have no suspect as yet. But we’re going to start interviewing straight away. Beginning with your cast. The officers who observed your party last night reported that there was a lot of arguing between the murdered woman and the other cast members.’
‘Yes, there were some harsh words and a bit of argy bargy,’ said Fredrik, recalling the scenes they had just watched. ‘But nothing that seemed serious enough for anyone to …’
‘We also need your tapes from yesterday.’ Patrik’s tone was curt as he looked Fredrik straight in the eye.
Fredrik stared back. ‘I’m not authorized to let you have any tapes,’ he said calmly. ‘Until I receive a warrant directing me to hand over the material, all of it stays here. Anything else is unacceptable.’
‘You do realize that this is a murder investigation?’ Patrik snapped. Though he had hoped for a different response it came as no surprise.
‘Yes, I realize that, but we can’t just turn over our material. There are many ethical principles involved.’ He smiled, pretending regret. Patrik merely snorted. They both knew that ethics were not the reason for his refusal.
‘But I presume that you will cancel the broadcast immediately in view of what has happened.’
Fredrik shook his head. ‘We absolutely cannot do that. We have programme slots booked for the next four weeks, and shutting down production now … no, it’s simply impossible. And I don’t think Barbie would have wanted that either; she would have wanted us to continue.’
One look at Patrik told him that he’d stepped over the line. The officer’s face was bright red, and he seemed to be fighting to hold back a couple of choice epithets.
‘You don’t mean to tell me that you’re actually considering –’ He broke off and interjected, ‘What was her real name? I can’t keep calling her Barbie. That’s too degrading. And by the way, I’m going to need all her personal data and contact details for her next of kin. Would you be willing to give us that information, or is that also a matter of ethics?’
The last word was dripping with sarcasm, but his anger had no effect on Fredrik. For some reason the reality-show format seemed to engender hostility; he was accustomed to dealing with it. Calmly he replied, ‘Her name is Lillemor Persson. And she grew up in foster homes, so we have no record of a next of kin. But you’ll be given all the information we have. No problem.’ He smiled suavely. ‘When are you starting the interviews? Is there any chance we could film them?’ It was a long shot, and the murderous look he got from Patrik was a clear enough answer.
‘We’ll be starting the interviews immediately,’ Patrik said curtly, getting up to leave the bus. He didn’t even bother to say goodbye before slamming the door behind him.
‘What a fucking stroke of luck,’ said Fredrik breathlessly, and the technician could only nod. This was their chance to take real drama directly into Sweden’s living rooms. For a second he thought of Barbie. Then he picked up the phone. The management had to hear about this. Sodding Tanum goes CSI. Jesus, the ratings would go through the roof!
‘How