EQMM, May 2012 Read Online Free

Otter did.” A dark look crossed Paulsson's face. “He also said that Gotilda is in the will. Is that true?"
    Rhindtwist nodded.
    "For twenty billion kronor?"
    Rhindtwist nodded again. “When did von Otter tell you this? Before or after Herr Gedda was murdered?"
    Paulsson put his hand to his mouth and muttered, “Sometime in the spring."
    "Do you have any idea why he told you?"
    "I think he was, one might say, disappointed that Herr Gedda hadn't followed his advice and was disturbed by the amount Gotilda was to receive.” Paulsson leaned back in his chair. “Her membership in the Lunkersklubb bothered him as well. You must understand that Herr von Otter is a purist in every sense of the word. He disapproves of fishing with anything but a fly and suspects that, on occasion, the girl fishes with a worm."
    "And how do you feel about all of this?"
    "About fishing with a worm? I couldn't care less."
    "I understand,” Rhindtwist said. “I'm asking about the twenty billion kronor."
    Paulsson sighed. “How would you feel? Twenty-two years of loyal service versus her three and she receives quadruple the financial gratitude that I do? It simply isn't fair. There has to be more to it than meets the eye."
    "It does raise some questions,” Rhindtwist said, and shook Paulsson's hand and said goodbye.
    As Rhindtwist walked to his car, Paulsson called to him. “I watch Inspektor Wallander on TV and know that the motive's the thing. I'd think 20 billion kronor would lead almost anyone astray."
    Rhindtwist wanted to tell Paulsson that five billion kronor, damn near 750 million U.S. dollars, wasn't exactly chump change, but he simply waved and climbed into his silver Volvo sedan. With friends like you, Henrik, he thought, Gotilda doesn't stand a chance.
    Thursday, July 10
    Rhindtwist thought it was an interesting turn of the worm that a man of Gunnar Hakanson's eminence would say he planned to be at the Friskis & Svettis gym and could walk over to Umlaut Magazine's office at about eight-thirty, if that wasn't too early. As a result, Rhindtwist and Uggla arrived at eight to make sure coffee was brewing.
    At eight-thirty sharp, an athletically built man dressed in a shiny navy track suit and wearing a pair of red, white, and black Nike Michael Vick Trainers pushed open the door on Fiskgartan, not far from Kukiejargatan, and called, “Jerker, you here? It's Gunnar."
    Not Gunnar Hakanson, just Gunnar. Not Jerker Rhindtwist, just Jerker. Rhindtwist was surprised and impressed.
    Uggla smoothed her skirt over her broad hips, pulled her sweater down to emphasize her perky knockers, and fluffed her dyed blond hair as she hurried to greet their visitor. She introduced herself as the managing editor. Her face flushed when Hakanson raised an eyebrow and said, “That's a big job for someone as young as you."
    Conveniently, she caught one of her high heels in a hole in the carpet and stumbled into his muscular arms. For a moment neither spoke and then Uggla slowly pushed away and showed him to Rhindtwist's office, where she brought them each a coffee, gave Hakanson a coquettish smile, and quietly shut the door behind her as she left.
    Hakanson raised his cup as though he were making a toast. “That's one well-built editor you've got there, old sport. Dipping your pen in the old company inkwell, are you?"
    Rhindtwist shook his head. “Let's get down to business."
    "It's your krona,” Hakanson said.
    "Let's start with how you learned of Herr Gedda's death."
    "I got a call from von Otter."
    "Go on."
    "What does ‘go on’ mean?” Hakanson said.
    Rhindtwist sighed. “When he called. Where you were. Things like that."
    Hakanson sighed. “Manfred called me around noon. He reached me in Helsinki. I returned to Stockholm that afternoon.” He sipped his coffee and forced a smile. “That's all there is to it."
    "How long were you in Helsinki?"
    "One night,” Hakanson said. “A business quickie."
    "Where did you stay?"
    Hakanson seemed irritated.