Original subtitles

THE SANDHAMN MURDERS

ANGELICA -PART 1

-Hello, Pär. -Hi, where are you?

-At home. -You're due in court at 10!

What? I thought it was 11? I'll be right there.

Shit!

The court has deliberated. The charges against Leo Strandberg are dismissed.

There is insufficient evidence that Angelica Strandberg is deceased.

No body was ever found.

Therefore it's not beyond all reasonable doubt that Angelica Strandberg is dead.

And even less so that her husband would be the perpetrator.

Leonard Strandberg is to be immediately released.

No!

-I'm in a hurry. -Where are you going?

The office. I'll tell Andrén I lost, see her disappointed face.

-Be sworn at and tarred and feathered. -Listen...

Thanks. I'd have rotted at Financial if you hadn't brought me with you...

-Can't do it without you. -Bonnie and Clyde.

-Mulder and Scully. Without the vibes! -What? We have loads of vibes!

Mother and son, then.

You always get a shitty case when starting at a new division.

The outcome was expected. Especially as the body was never found.

It's very hard getting a conviction without a body.

Which just goes to further clarify that it's a...shitty case.

Bad loser?

The defence highlighted Angelica Strandberg's history of mental illness.

-But she'd tried to leave her husband. -She'd threatened that?

-According to the investigation, yes. -Maybe they argued?

Such statements are never written in stone.

God, no. All the times I told my men I was leaving...

Are you in a polyamorous relationship if you don't mind me asking?

No, no. I'm a serial monogamist. I leave them one at a time.

-I'm single now. -Me too...

What do you need a man for if you have a drill?

It's a bit like that.

Will you be happy here? Among murderers and rapists?

Absolutely.

What the hell...?

-It's ten years since I did a stakeout. -No one's forcing you.

-You okay? -I can't find the mushrooms.

-You sure you bought enough? -Shut up.

-Enough for the whole night? -I hope. I'm not allowed sugar at home.

I have to seize the opportunity.

That's smart.

We don't want him to see us. Shall I put the siren on?

Fresh ones...

Shall I light a fire? So you can roast them?

Stop complaining. It's cosy here!

Take a mushroom sweet and relax. Smell them...

-They're really good! -Yes, that's what I said.

I think I found a little mushroom spot.

Did you take this shift because you can't have sweets at home?

I'd like to hit that fucking bastard. I'm hoping for violent resistance.

That single malt he stole from me I bought in Islay 25 years ago.

You get it, that's 25 years! It cost £150 then!

-What? You get what that's worth? -It pains me.

Norwegians have no sense for the finer things.

Unsalted cod and primost, that's all you understand.

-He's not coming. -Oh, yes. Be patient.

It's the same MO for two years. Three days of activity, six month break.

Three villas on Sanstigen yesterday. He's coming.

-I feel sick. -Christ...

Give me five minutes.

-How are things at home? -Great. And you?

Fantastic.

We touch each other without it feeling like putting your tongue on a live wire.

-Can you ask for more after so long? -No, I don't know.

-I believed it once. -Yes, you believe so much.

-I had... -Hang on. Let's go.

Oh, dear. Nowhere to go. How sad.

What a nice bag. Off to play hockey?

No, I thought not.

We're from the police and would like to talk about some break-ins and maybe...

...have a look at your boat.

You fucker!

The mushroom sweets...

-Oh, dear. It's a bit loose. -I know. It's been like that for 10 years.

Imagine if someone trips on it. Oh, dear. This...

This is bad news. This isn't a little, soft wood rodent...

It more like a... It's called the death-watch beetle.

If you put your ear to it and listen you can hear...

-A ticking sound. -But I heard a more regular gnawing.

They're funny little things. They use the ticking sounds to attract a mate.

Before, people thought that it was like a premonition of death.

-How exciting. -They can really cause damage.

-How much damage? -You want to know?

-Yes, I want to know. -Your ceiling here...

-We talked about it the last time, right? -I haven't had time.

I didn't mean that you'd fix the ceiling. Someone else will.

Another thing? What idiot painted the facade with acrylic paint?

My ex.

Right...

So what should I do?

Well, best to tear down this dump and build a new house.

Wait. Which hand?

Left...

Oh, darling!

-One more. -Right...

My husband won't be stinking of fish paste at the station.

-Good morning. -Good morning. How are you?

You usually get upset at police incompetence.

Yes.

-Do you take it personally? -Well, we finally caught that thief.

-So we may retrieve some of our stuff. -Right.

I'm not counting on it. We got everything we asked for from the insurance.

Rather, I did...

Yes, I heard about the trial. It must be a relief. That it's over.

That part, anyway.

I won't feel relief until I know what happened to Angelica.

-Was there anything else? -No.

Idiot...

My client admits that stolen goods have been found in a boat belonging to him.

He has, however, no knowledge of how things ended up in the boat in question.

He denies the accusations. Looking at the appearance of my client

makes one wonder whether the arrest closely followed procedure.

Excuse me. Did you hear what I said?

I'm the only one here, but... I heard clearly what you said.

We haven't started yet. We're waiting for the coffee.

-Here's the coffee. -You see?

Help me with this one, Alexander.

-Here's the coffee. Shit...! -What the hell are you doing?

How clumsy of me, I'm sorry. Alexander, can you take the lawyer to the ladies.

-So she can dry herself off. -It's not easy...

Yes, I'm... My bad...

Matthiasväg 42. Ring a bell?

No, no connection? August two years ago...?

I'd thought of opening that bottle when I became a grandfather.

It's been waiting there in the dark for 25 years.

Sometimes I've taken it out, just so I could hold it up to the light

and enjoy the shifting colours in that golden liquid.

I haven't opened it. No, I controlled myself and carefully put it back

so it could wait in the dark for the right moment.

And the right moment wasn't when you came.

So, honestly...

I would have loved to have given you a going over when we found you.

But you scuttled off and my colleague got to you first.

So now, it's this...

Sorry, I didn't hear, did you want milk?

-Perhaps we can start now? -Let me know.

-My client denies... -But, of course he does!

Blah, blah, blah, blah...

Sylvester Markell, 45 years old.

Born and raised in Saltsjö-Duvnäs, but bizarrely registered in Monaco...

He's financed a festive lifestyle by regularly coming home to Sweden

and stealing innocent people's hard-earned possessions.

-But there's no evidence. -No evidence? Please, my dear...

We have so much evidence it's dripping from our pores.

What shall we start with? This isn't bad. Pictures from a surveillance camera

in the harbour showing Markell and boat in connection with every break-in. Yes!

Quite good, not so? Then, this isn't so bad...

Here's a wine glass, positively crawling with DNA,

in that our man here couldn't resist tasting a bottle of La Tâche '67.

Right. Let's see...

This is my favourite. What do you say?

This is a perfect cast of a pair of Salvatore Ferragamo

in size 41 taken from a bed of roses outside one of the gate-crashed houses.

And these, these aren't any old run-of-the-mill Ferragamo's.

Oh, no. This is a pair that were specially made, and this is true,

for Mussolini in 1936!

We know this because they have unique soles and this pair

were bought in Sotheby's some years ago by a certain

master thief with delusions of grandeur.

This is a one to one scale. Shall we check to see whether

little Cinderella herself is sitting here? I think we really have to see.

Please give me your foot.

Right. Let's have a look...

It's absolutely incredible! It is little Cinderella sitting here. Good.

The only question I have is: "Did Il Duce really have such small feet?"

-Huh? -Well...

It was his persona that was grandiose, not his anatomy.

Beyond that, I have absolutely nothing else to add

before I've met the prosecutor dealing with the case.

Nora Linde.

...so, are you Danish?

-No...! -Yes.

So I just said: "Yes, yes..."

So, suddenly I'm Danish. But I don't know Danish.

I'm lying, but what the hell else can I do? I have no choice.

-Hello! -Hello.

-Have you been there long? -I just got here.

-Sorry. -What for?

What? I don't know. I'm just saying...

No worries. I didn't want to interrupt, you were in the middle of something.

No, no. That was just...

-What are you doing here? -Someone in custody asked to see me.

-As investigating prosecutor. -Right...

-I didn't know. Do you have a new job? -Yes.

-Congratulations. -Thanks.

Not bad!

-Sorry, you want a coffee? -No, thanks.

-Shall we...get to work? -Yes, of course.

-Excuse me. -That's the third time you've apologised.

Is it? Well, apologies... No.

Nothing out of the ordinary, really. He's a burglar.

We have enough evidence, so that part should be fine.

What's strange is that he asked to see the prosecutor.

You don't know why? No? I'll have to go in and find out.

-It's good to see you. -You too.

-Everything okay? -Yes, of course.

And you, everything well with the family?

Yes, everything is fine.

-Nora... -I'll go in. See you.

Hello.

Nora Linde. Prosecutor. You wanted to see me?

May I just begin by praising the prosecutor's choice of clothing?

Strict and correct. And yet, imbued with a kind of secretive femininity.

I've always preferred a more restrained woman.

One that must be unpicked, very tenderly and carefully,

and who then reveals a chamber filled with priceless treasure.

Like a little boy on Christmas Eve you remove the tissue paper,

the strings and bows until you finally open the box and see lying

a cardigan of the finest cashmere, all warm and soft...

-...and pink... -Do I add charges for sexual harassment?

A thousand apologies. I find it somewhat tricky navigating this new era.

I understand.

Let's move on in the assurance you stay far away from my cardigan.

-Understood? -Between us...

My prey doesn't live in the same forest as you.

The appreciation I express is entirely the aesthete's.

Not the cavalier's. Is that understood?

Then I'll try once more. What am I doing here?

-I'm sitting in a veritable fox trap. -Undeniably.

Prison, as you may well understand, isn't a place for a rare bird such as I.

-I'd like to strike a deal. -That deal doesn't exist in Sweden.

To reduce your sentence you'd have to assist in the investigation of your case.

-How boring. -Yes, really...

Was that all?

Angelica Strandberg...

-What did you say? -I think you heard what I said.

-What do you know about Angelica? -Deal?

-What do you know? -I know she was murdered. I have proof.

-What proof? -Deal?

If what you say is true, I might be able to do something.

But I need proof and a police investigation.

No, no police. It must be you. You'll understand why.

Do you know of something called Fredriksborg Fortress?

Hello?

Hi...

-Mum still not here? -What?

Vicky!

-She didn't call? -No.

No? She wasn't here when you came home?

No.

She didn't send a message? Or leave a note or anything?

-Hello! -No. No...

Shit...

Hi. Can you come over?

What? No, no...

But still... Okay, thanks.

-Grandma's coming. -What?

I'm just going out.

-Where? -A work thing.

I don't want to eat Grandma's carrot burgers!

But... What the hell?

-What's happened? -What's happened?

Nothing...

-I was out shopping. -Yes.

You could have sent a text or left a message.

Yes. I don't want Tor left alone.

-But he's 13! -He's 12.

For another month and then he'll be a teenager.

-When I was 13... -Yes, okay.

I've been home for a year now.

You were away for three...

When will you start trusting me?

Hi.

I see that he died from longing.

Hello, I guess you're all hungry?

I made carrot burgers which we'll have with kale.

That sounds good.

-You have to get a driving licence. -I'm certain that'd be the death of me.

How do I know I'm inside the lines? How much do you turn the wheel?

-What if you think of something else? -You're so weird.

-I have other strings to my little bow. -Your little bow?

Like, what do you know about Fredriksborg Fortress?

Nothing.

Construction started in the early 1700s after the Russians invaded.

Yes, the Russians ravaged this area.

It's alleged that 30 Russian prisoners of war are buried in the walls.

The ones who helped build the fortress.

Awful. How come you know all this?

Because my dad's only hobby was military history.

So Sunday dinners were a lot of fun...

Thanks. Let's see.

Here. Down here on the left, there should be...

-But... -You coming?

-There should be an entrance here. -Okay.

MILITARY AREA STOP!

Here...

-This should be moved. -Yes...

-You coming? -Yes, on my way.

Here.

Here.

-Hold this. -Yes.

-Okay... Shouldn't we wait? -Wait?

If we call the police and let them go through everything?

-But we don't know what we may find. -No.

-I mean... -Oh, shit!

How would we know that this is stolen property?

We may think it's Russian treasure from the 1700s.

Russian treasure? Okay.

I hope we can share a cell.

-You've got to be kidding! -What?

Oh...

Stop!

What are you doing here?

-There's no trespassing. -Yes, sorry.

-Didn't you see the signs? -Yes, but we thought they were a bit old.

-They still apply. -Please, lower your weapon.

-What are you doing here? -We're from the public prosecutor.

Thanks...

I promised to guard this place.

Okay. The whole fortress?

-No, just the storeroom. -For who?

-This is between us. -It's harder to... Okay.

He's an art dealer with the whole world as his workplace.

-How do you know him? -You don't ask a lady that!

But we're going to move to France. Les Apt, close to Marseille.

Wonderful. Will that be soon...?

He's in the middle of a divorce, so it's taking a little time.

Yes, that's usually how it goes.

Do you have a licence for that?

I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to protect Sylvester's precious things.

They're dated.

29 August 2020.

-When did Angelica Strandberg disappear? -The same day.

Oh, Jesus...

-Hello. -Hello. Have you seen Alexander?

He went home a while ago. Family reasons...

-Oh. Has anything happened? -Unsure. Maybe it was for a quickie.

Miriam.

Sorry, excuse me! It's me, I'm trying beat my record from the toilet to the coffee.

-Soon I'll be under 10 seconds. -Right. Wow!

How's it going with Saltsjö-Duvnäs' Danny Ocean?

-Sylvester, the master thief in chains? -Ah, yes...

It's like this. I need him charged and on a bus to Kronoberg half an hour ago.

He's driving the guards crazy. He wants white asparagus sent from Värmdö.

He wants his own cooking facility to make a hollandaise sauce. It just goes on!

-He has to leave, now! -I understand, my apologies.

It's been a bit much...

Angelica Strandberg isn't over yet.

-That's got nothing to do with Markell? -No, it's just that I've had a lot.

-The husband was acquitted, right? -Yes.

But I'll need to speak to Sylvester alone.

You're welcome. By all means strangle him. I promise, I won't say anything.

-Where did you get these? -In these times, information...

...is the hardest currency.

You never know what messy secret you might stumble over and monetise.

Or, as in this case, make into your own "Get-out-of-jail-free" card.

I have a habit of removing hard drives from surveillance cameras.

This gets me nowhere.

Anyone can do this in an app for 29 kronor. I need the hard drives. Do you have them?

It's nothing if not a stinging insult that you even need to ask.

-Of course I have them. -Where?

There was the issue of a reduced sentence, not so?

Yes, and I promise to do my best. I can't do more.

Your best isn't enough, Madame Prosecutor.

You either lock up a poor gentleman thief...

Or I give you a brutal woman-killer.

I know what I would choose.

I love to watch you walk...

-Hello. -Hello, it's me. Nora.

Listen, do you have time to talk?

Or rather, to meet. In the harbour bar?

-Okay. -Oh, good.

-See you there. Bye. -Bye.

I have to go out a while. For work.

-Okay. -It was...

It was important.

-But I won't be late. -You do what you want.

Yes...

-A beer? -Coming up.

-You well? -Yes. Thanks for coming.

We found Sylvester Markell's stolen goods in Fredrikborg's fortress.

-We? -Me...

Hang on...

-This is wrong in so many ways. -Because as a prosecutor...

...I visited a crime scene without informing the appropriate police authority?

The answer is yes.

You may have sabotaged the investigation and our ability to have him convicted.

-I had to. -Had to...?

I wouldn't have believed it of you.

It was Sylvester's condition for revealing where the goods were.

-Right. -And it gets worse.

I guess you know about the Angelica Strandberg case?

This has to stay between us.

What the hell...?

-You didn't know? -No...

I had no idea.

That's the same day that Angelica disappeared.

-What will you do? -Not sure. I need the source material.

It won't hold with screenshots. And I've already bent the rules.

Jesus... Are you creeping up on me?

It was open.

If this was Texas, I'd have the right to shoot you now.

-That would have been silly. -It would be hard on Tor.

-Anything happened? -Sylvester said where he hid the goods.

-Right... -You see?

-Anything else? -No.

Or... Yes.

It's been a while since we spoke. Properly.

-I miss you, that's all. -Me too.

I've been busy with my pathetic attempt at a family life, so I haven't been...

-It is what it is. -Yes.

I miss my friend.

-I love you. -Yes, I know.

Okay.

What did you do to him?

-To who? -The master thief. After the coffee...

I pinched his nose.

-You pinched his nose? -Yes!

Did you think I'd waterboard him? Break his thumbs? Stick a pipe cleaner up him?

-Well... -I'm not a monster, Alex.

-What the...! -Darling, what...!

-You can't... -Sorry, I didn't mean to.

-No. -Has something happened?

No, I didn't hear you coming. I was deep in my thoughts.

-I was just so surprised. -Right. I'll get some paper.

Okay, thanks.