All language subtitles for Beck.S08E02

—Who are you? What are you doing here?
—The code to the safe!

—I don't know what the code is here.
—But give me the code, for fuck's sake!

—But I don't know.
—The code! Or I'll kill you!

The code!

Okay, okay, okay, okay!
1982. One, nine, eight, two.

1982. One, nine...
One, nine, eight, two.

Ah... Nineteen hundred...
Nineteen eighty-two.

—Good morning.
—Thanks.

—No, I'm done with this now.
—With what?

But, like, the whole love thing.
I'm not interested anymore.

Find someone who... It's not worth it.
I have to accept that this is how it turned out.

Middle-aged man, single... yeah, lives for his job. Cop cliché, basically.

—Where is Josef?
—You gave him the day off.

Damn, I forgot. Steinar, come with us.
They've found a dead man out in Nacka.

—Hi.
—Hi.

—But put on the mask. The mask!
—No, for fuck's sake.

Are you afraid your macho facade is fading?
Show them how it's done in reality.

Reality isn't plastic balls
and a beer afterwards.

If you get hit in the eye, you
don't want a beer. Put your mask on.

I'm going to show you what reality is.
Then let's go!

—So, are you getting any time off then?
—Inger wants to get started on the allotment.

But you know how it is.
It's hard to switch off.

Take it easy. Josef and I can
keep the boat afloat for a few days.

Hi! Well, then.

It is a little further into
the forest. Viewer discretion is advised.

Yes, it was a trail runner who
ran into him. Literally.

He couldn't have been dead
for that long.

—The cause of death is pretty obvious, isn't it?
—Mm, one of the worst things I've seen.

—ID?
—No. No wallet, no phone.

Then we won't get any identity that way.
Is there something else that...?

Bruno! Where have you been, darling?
Why aren't you answering? Where are you?

Hi. My name is Alexandra Beijer.
I am a police officer.

—Who am I speaking to?
—My name is Maria Simonsson.

Hi, Maria. We have found the phone
and need to know who it belongs to.

It looks like Josef and I
will have a bit to keep us busy, at least.

I'll take care of the paintball,
but Petter is running the rage room.

Petter! Nice!

I mean, look at little sis.
Do you think it's scary?

Scary? The scariest thing here today is
that everyone looks just like their parents.

Yes, God, it's been 20 years and we
all look like rotten lingonberries.

But you've been holding up quite well,
I think.

Thank you. You too.

Good job, Åsa. Come out now.

The jogger he hung out with
was named Bruno Simonsson.

50 years old, married, two adult children.
He owned an antique shop in Gamla stan—

—called Aureum
along with a Jonas Forssell.

I've had an initial conversation
with Simonsson's wife—

—but I think we'll have time
for a talk with Forssell today.

If Oskar and Jenny take it,
Steinar and Josef will take over tomorrow.

—Absolutely.
—That's good.

Unfortunately, we can only say
that he was found near a jogging trail.

It's so damn scary.
Completely insane that he would die like that.

Bruno was so incredibly kind.
Never harmed a fly.

So you don't know
who wanted to kill him?

No. No.

Unless... A couple of guys came in
here a few months ago.

And they want to buy the shop.

But Bruno didn't want to sell
and...they became quite threatening.

—Did you file a police report?
—As if that would have helped...!

No, unfortunately there is a bunch
of obscure people in our industry.

We have a reservoir of trust to
manage, so it's not that simple.

—Do you know the names of those who threatened you?
—No, unfortunately.

Would you recognize them
if you saw them again?

Maybe. Yeah, I think so.

You got kicked out, vomited on the dance floor—
and then fell asleep in a gravel pit.

Didn't you steal a pinball machine too?
At that campsite.

Yeah, yeah, yeah! Yeah, and you drove off
and the whole trunk flew up and...

—No, it wasn't him, it was...
—No, no, it was my brother.

—Yes, Tobban.
—Tobban, yes. What is he doing these days?

—Åsa, drop it.
—It's a rather long story.

I just have to say, Lindberg...
Fuck, you sucked at paintball.

What, did I come in last, or something?
I mean, I don't know.

The years go by, muscles atrophy.
But that's not so bad, is it?

You look completely sick. No, holy shit!

I can't breathe.
Where is the light?

—Do you get really scared?
—No.

—You certainly will!
—Where is the lamp?

Wait a minute. Wait. Okay, okay.
What happens if I do this?

—God...
—How does it feel? Take that off.

—I'm a police officer and I know how these things work.
—I see...

—Cissi? Cissi, everyone is leaving now.
—Okay!

Yes, yes, yes. I'm coming!
Go on ahead, you guys! I'm coming!

Yes, because the taxi is coming now.

Then I'll take that one.

—You. Honey.
—Yes?

It's ringing. Your mobile. Hey.

Shh, shh.

It's fine, I'm in.
Just give me the address.

And the money?

It'll be fine. Don't call anymore.
It'll work out.

Okay? Hi.

—Nice apartment.
—Mm. But unfortunately, it's not mine.

A friend has traveled abroad,
so it's just my home for half a year.

—That was nice, this.
—Mm. It was pretty half-hearted. Right?

—Was it a disappointment, or what?
—Mm.

What are you going to do today?

—Work. And train.
—Mhm.

But maybe I'll just skip that and
stay and practice on you instead.

Fuck, seriously, I can't.

Shit. I'm emptying dad's house. It
has to be empty before the end of the month.

Okay. Is he going to move, or what?

No. He is... he is dead.

I'm sorry, sorry, I didn't know.

There's no way you could know that.

—Heart attack.
—Mhm.

He was a goldsmith, after all.
He had the workshop in the garage.

And then about a month ago,
there was a break-in.

He must have figured them out somehow.

His heart stopped.
The police found him in the garden.

Did we get the ones who did it, or what?

You shut down the investigation
before it had even begun.

He died because his heart stopped beating.

Not the burglars' fault, apparently.

Hm.

—Has Josef arrived?
—Not yet.

—I'll call him now.
—No, he's been at a school reunion.

So he's been partying all night. He'll
probably show up once he's sobered up.

—Thanks for coming, anyway.
—Yes, of course.

—Did Dad do it?
—Yes, he actually did.

He designed it for my mother
as a wedding gift when they got married.

Then he made a few more over the years.

Okay, here it is.

Dammit.

Yeah, they went pretty hard on the place. Åsa and I haven't had the energy to deal with it.

—But the lock was intact?
—Yes.

I think they forced Dad
to give up the safe code.

—What did he have in it?
—Gold. A whole lot of finished jewelry.

—Okay. Value...?
—500,000. Everything was covered by insurance.

Dad was super meticulous, had receipts
for everything. But... this...

—Rage room.
—Yes... Yes, indeed.

—But he had a surveillance camera.
—What, he did?

Yes. Some DIY thing
that he has worked on.

Yes, damn it.

—Hello!
—It's Åsa.

We're here! — Come.

The police who were here were a complete
joke. They didn't seem to care.

They just said:
"He died of natural causes."

So fucking indifferent.

Then when I called a week later
they had just closed down.

—Did he have a computer here?
—His laptop, which was also stolen.

Did they steal anything else from the house?

A Bluetooth speaker from the kitchen
also disappeared.

—And that was everything?
—Yes, as far as I know.

The camera was connected
to the computer that stood here.

Yes, but I can't answer things like that.

The police would help us with that
when they arrived here.

How the fuck am I supposed to know
all of this? It's completely insane.

We just stood here
like some fucking idiots. Yeah, and...

—I'm sorry, Josef.
—It's okay.

—Thanks.
—Are you staying to help us pack?

No, I have to go to work.

But I'll see if I can
dig a little further into this.

Yeah, I can't promise anything, but...

We see.

—Hey! Where have you been?
—Overslept.

—Right, okay.
—Did something happen, or what?

—Besides the fact that you've messed up?
—Mm.

Steinar can bring that with you.
There's a murder on a jogging trail.

A Bruno Simonsson. But I'm off now,
so get in touch if there's anything. Bye.

—Goodbye.
—Goodbye.

—Ho—ho!
—Hi.

—"Half past seven at my place"? What's going on?
—You and I are going to Forensic Medicine.

And then my appetite will return
at best tomorrow afternoon—

—so it'll be tagliatelle with meat ragu
and a little queso fresco.

—Okay? Hungry?
—Yeah, what the hell...

Then you'll have to shred the leeks.

Cheers.

But hey, what about the father
of that Cissi...

I agree that it's
fucking terrible, but is it murder?

I checked with the lead investigator,
who said the report was a disaster.

They wrote natural causes and that no
autopsy was required.

And that the door had been forced, which
is very strange, because the lock was intact.

—Someone else might have a key.
—If he didn't leave the workshop unlocked.

—Yes, we have to go.
—Who are we going to see at Forensics?

An antique dealer executed in the forest.
Ready?

The cause of death is not strangulation.

Crushed larynx, the airways
are completely blocked by bone and blood.

—From the strap?
—No, a blow to the larynx.

My name is Josef Eriksson
and I'm calling from the police.

Yes, the band was probably kept on afterwards
to finish the job.

—To be sure of the result?
—Yes, it is possible.

Send it over. That's very kind.
Thank you so much. Hi.

What's happening?

The goldsmith fucking has a cleaning service
once a week from a cleaning company.

A young 22-year-old girl
who might have her own key.

According to the old hag at the company, she lived
a wild life with drugs and all that.

She is registered with the father, who also
seems damn shaky. I'll call.

—It has nothing to do with this?
—No. — Goodbye.

You have reached Ulrika Kennerberg. Say something after the beep.

No, the cleaner isn't answering.
I just need to check one thing first.

—Is that Ulrika?
—Mm. Kennerberg.

I'll just take a quick look.

Steinar!

What?

—What?
—We're going in.

There's someone in there.
We're going in.

No, no, no. I'm calling. Now.

Police!

Here he is.

Check the kitchen.

Here is another one.

And that is Ulrika Kennerberg.

—We didn't see it as necessary...
—It could have been an ongoing crime.

—Or if he were alive. It was just...
—Stop! Right. What are you doing here?

Steinar accompanied me as a favor.

I wanted to check on a burglary investigation.
An old buddy's dad had been burglarized.

An old buddy? Really?
And then you stumbled upon two bodies?

—Yes.
—Okay.

Ulrika Kennerberg and Per—Erik
Stensson, according to legend, on the bodies.

Per—Erik has been shot in the head,
but he's the only one with a gun.

Ulrika was suffocated.
Crushing injuries to the neck.

—And she lives here, right?
—Yes, with a Johan Kennerberg.

—65. Probably her dad.
—And you didn't run into him?

—No.
—Oh yeah?

And does anyone know
who this Stensson with the weapon is?

—No.
—I was eavesdropping on you guys a little.

You were talking about a burglary
at a jeweler's, right?

Yes... We have some things here
that might come from there.

—Biggan, can I have the box?
—Mm, here.

Let me see the one at the very front.
No, that one. There, yes.

—Was there any computer included?
—Nope.

We are going to go through this thoroughly.

Including what your old pal
has to do with it. Okay?

But what the fuck, am I not allowed to come
into my own house? For fuck's sake!

I fucking live here!
What is it? Has something happened?

Hi. Hi.
Are you Johan Kennerberg?

—Yes. Fuck, it...
—We want to take you to the station.

—No, we're talking here.
—He's shit-drunk, Josef. It's...

We'll take it now. — Johan, we
need to talk to you for a bit. Okay?

Come.
Let's sit down and talk for a bit.

We understand that this is difficult.
But in order for us to find out—

—regarding what happened to Ulrika, we
need you to answer a few questions.

—Do you know who Per—Erik Stensson is?
—No, no, I've never heard of him.

—Was there someone she used to hang out with?
—I don't know who it is, I'm telling you.

Johan, Ulrika worked as a cleaner, you know.

Did she have access to keys
to the people she worked for?

Could it be that she used
the keys in some other way?

What the fuck do you mean?

Did she use the keys
to break into her customers' homes?

Is this about the goldsmith?

—What did you say about the goldsmith?
—Nothing. I don't know anything.

No, I don't know.

She was my daughter
and now she is dead. Poof.

—What... What am I going to see?
—The man we found, he...

—Yes, it can't be Per—Erik.
—We hope you can answer that.

But the man we have found
had Per-Erik's driver's license on him.

Well, then he must have robbed him
or taken his driver's license.

It could be an opportunity.

—Is he lying in there now?
—Yes.

Is this Per—Erik?

So, so, so. So. So.

There are no known links
between Ulrika and Per-Erik Stensson.

Both have no criminal records. According to his wife,
Per-Erik is a responsible young father—

—youth taekwondo coach
and former security guard.

—Former? What did he do now?
—Day trading. Online stock trading.

—How was he actually living on that?
—Yeah, together with her part-time salary.

Are you checking their finances, Ayda?
Thanks.

He might have been involved
in her burglary operations.

If more cleaning clients had been robbed,
an alarm should have gone off a long time ago.

Unless all those investigations
have also been dropped.

Per-Erik Stensson must have had
a reason to go out to Ulrika.

—Besides, he was armed.
—So he was at home with a gun.

Someone showed up, shot him,
strangled her and fled the scene?

—Is Dad a possible candidate?
—Josef and I talked about it.

The question is whether he is capable of it.
I don't think he strangled his daughter.

No. I feel like I would
want to pull this off with Martin.

Is it really supposed to smoke that much?

It fell down a little bit.
Okay? It's going to be great.

Let me... just let me... Okay?

Hello? Hello?

—Hi, Inger. Am I interrupting?
—No. Has something happened?

No. Martin said I could come.
He didn't say that, did he?

—Yeah, of course. Come and sit down.
—Then we should have bought more food.

—Are you hungry?
—No. I'm fine, thanks.

Yes, we must share what we have.
Would you like a glass of wine?

No thanks. I'm just going to grab a few things
with Martin and it'll be quick.

—You've got a nice place. —Hey, Vilhelm!
—Hey.

I can't make this make sense.
The bullet that killed Per—Erik Stensson—

—is of the same caliber as the weapon
he was holding. The magazine was half empty.

NFC is test-firing now
to see if it's the same weapon.

But I don't understand. Is it the same
person who killed both of them?

And if so, in what order?

But if there wasn't
a third person involved then?

We must await the full
report from Forensic Medicine—

—but the shot to the head didn't necessarily have to be instantly fatal.

Say that... Per—Erik was there to
kill Ulrika Kennerberg.

Why? He had no priors.
They don't seem to have known each other.

Yes, the motive could be some old
jealousy drama we're unaware of—

—or something linked
to her previous criminal activity.

Anyway, she lets him in,
a fight breaks out, and he attacks her.

—She grabs his gun.
—And fires a shot at him.

But he still manages
to kill Ulrika.

And before he dies
he crawls toward the door—

—and there...

In that case, no third
party was involved.

Ulrika and Per-Erik
killed each other.

Mm.

—Give the rest to Alex.
—That's fine. I'm not that hungry.

—Yes, you're welcome then.
—Thanks.

Nice that you could make it. Even
if it wasn't just for social reasons.

I'm sorry, I'll just...

From Ayda. Per—Erik Stensson's stock—
deals seem to be a total scam.

He lost a lot of money
last year, contrary to what his wife said.

Conduct a search.
The motive is in there somewhere.

Cheers, Mom.

—Cheers.
—You survive.

—Yes, cheers. Cheers, everyone.
—Cheers. And thank you.

—Hi!
—Hi.

Are you... are you already back?

Hell. I'm getting so worked up
that I can't find the key. Come in.

Okay. I hope
you like sweaty girls.

No, but I can make an exception
for your sake.

Yeah, I'd like to talk
about something.

Okay. Already?

Yes. It's okay.

We had fucking great sex.
It's okay if it stays there.

No, I mean... We've found the one
who broke into your dad's place.

—That was quick work. Are you sure?
—Mm.

A lot of stolen goods, the same jewelry
as yours. We're safe.

—Who was it?
—It is an ongoing investigation.

I can't talk about it, but I
wanted you to find out.

Some people think that their
dad has been a true role model.

And for me and Åsa, especially
for Åsa, he really was that.

Åsa has felt extremely poorly
for long periods and...

Mom disappeared, you know,
when we were little and...

We only had Dad.
He was our whole world.

He fought so damn hard. He was...
He did everything for us.

He has been direct, honest,
he has respected people.

He really...
He was good. Actually.

It might sound completely insane,
but he was truly good.

She is dead. Murdered.

—"Her"?
—Yes.

—Was it the cleaning lady?
—I can't say more. Sorry.

—Why not?
—I've already said too much.

Yes, I need to take a shower.

—Josef?
—Yes?

Do you feel like taking a shower?

—But what is this?
—I am so sorry.

I understand that this is terrible,
but we have to go through the apartment.

Why?
I don't understand. My husband is dead.

You don't understand. I...

You can check the boxes here later as well.

Johannes?

I think we have something.

—Cissi.
—Mm?

—Someone's here.
—What?

—Someone's here.
—What...?

—Oh god. I think it's Åsa.
—What?

You can put something on.
You must put something on.

"You must," do what?

Come on.

—Come... come in.
—But are you still sleeping?

No, I have... company.

—Oh. Hey!
—Hey.

Good morning.

They have found the one who took
dad's life. It was the cleaning lady.

What? But that's terrible.

You can't tell us anything more
about what you already know?

We are under a preliminary investigation secrecy order.
— More coffee?

No thanks. At least then we know
it was the cleaning lady.

—Do you have any contact with Tobbe then?
—With my brother?

—No, I haven't.
—Because he's in jail, right?

—Mm. He's in jail.
—But you're going to visit him and what?

—No, I don't.
—Okay.

Yes, God. None of us
actually knew him.

But we have heard about what happened.
It must have been fucking terrible.

Mm.

I don't mean to keep
digging around in that...

It's no problem.
It was several years ago, after all.

It's still good
to try to have some form of contact.

When the wind blows hardest,
siblinghood is tested.

—Right, Åsa?
—Yes. Yes.

But we have to get started if we're going to
get it finished in time for the realtor.

Okay. I'm coming. Yes.

Sorry, gotta run. Work.

Talk to you later.

—Martin!
—Inger probably hates me now.

No. And I am an adult
and I decide for myself.

And this has become too interesting
for me to enjoy the spring sun.

The straps that were found in the cellar—
storage room at Per-Erik Stensson's home—

—so we can link him
to the murders—

—on Bruno Simonsson
and Ulrika Kennerberg.

Additionally, we have received confirmation
from the NFC—

—that the bullet that killed Per—Erik—

—came from the weapon he
himself was holding when he was found dead.

Another connection is
two transactions of 250,000 each—

—to Per-Erik Stensson's account
during the last month.

Ayda tracks where the money
is coming from using the echolot.

From a Latvian transaction account,
so there are privacy regulations.

But hopefully we can track down
the person who made the payments.

—Per—Erik Stensson was a professional killer?
—Yes, it seems so.

When he lost the security guard job, he told
his wife that he was a stock trader.

—And worked extra as a hitman.
—What is wrong with men?

Not all men need to murder to make ends meet.

But if one does it,
then that's one too many.

—How do we proceed?
—Ayda has a point there.

We have a phone number
in Per—Erik Stensson's mobile.

He has had recurring calls
from the number—

—the time before the murder
of Ulrika Kennerberg.

But the calls are coming
from an unregistered prepaid SIM card.

—There's no more information?
—No.

The person who called is named Ricky according to the contact list in Per-Erik's phone.

—Ricky?
—Per—Erik calls him Ricky.

Okay. Nice work.
— Josef, can we have a chat?

Close the door.

The door — can you close it?
Shut the door.

You and her, Cissi...
How serious is it?

—I don't know, it's...
—She is a possible suspect.

But what the fuck?

I've heard how pissed off you get
when someone is near Jäv.

—Cissi didn't order any murder.
—Are you sure about that?

Are you absolutely sure about that?

That Ulrika Kennerberg
broke into the workshop—

—was an indirect
or direct cause of—

—that Cissi's dad died.
That is a motive.

You must tell Alex everything you know
and ask to be recused from the investigation.

Otherwise, you're being spiteful.

I get it.

I will do everything I can to find others
who wanted to kill Ulrika, but right now...

Okay, I get it, I said!

Could this have been one of the men
who wanted to take over your business?

—No. He didn't threaten us.
—No, he might have worked for them.

—But you don't recognize him at all?
—No.

He might have come into
the shop to scout things out or something.

No. I am sorry.

Johan?
We would like to talk to you for a bit.

So most things point to your daughter
being the victim of a contract killing.

—Do you understand what we're saying?
—Mm.

Someone paid a lot of money
for Ulrika to die.

Who had reason to do that?

We know she committed the burglary.

Do you know if she stole from the wrong person?
Someone who might have wanted to...

I kill for money. But...

...you, ese, you are my friend,
so I'll kill you for nothing.

Johan. Did she have any enemies?
An old ex-girlfriend, anything.

They killed my best friend—

—so I'm going to kill
each and every one of them.

My only disappointment is
that I can do it only once.

Exactly.

And that's what happens when you watch
too many gangster movies. Watch out.

Hi. Come in.

Come.

—Can I ask you one thing?
—Mm.

Has anyone from the police called here?
Someone named Alex or Steinar or something?

—Have you done something?
—No, but has it...

—No, nobody has called.
—Okay.

Josef, what is it?

This murder of the maid...

It was a contract killing.

Someone paid money
for her to die.

Okay.

—You know nothing about it?
—What could I possibly know about it?

I don't know,
but I just have to ask.

Do you have to?

It's been kind of cozy dating
a cop, but this is a joke.

What the fuck are you doing?
Is this some fucking interrogation, or what?

—This is going to be very strange for me.
—I don't want it to be like this.

—It's very unsettling. Leave.
—Yes, but you have to answer the question.

Absolutely not.
Why should I do that?

Cissi, do you know anything
about the murder of the cleaning lady?

Answer the question.

No. I don't think so.

—Cissi, answer the question.
—I want you to leave here — now.

Get out of here!

Mm.

—Hi.
—Hi.

—Can I come in?
—Absolutely.

I have spoken with Steinar.

Okay. And what has Steinar said?

That you have some kind of relationship
with this Cissi—

—and that she might mean more
to the investigation than you've said.

Are you and her in a relationship?

Yes.

And then you surely understand yourself
that you cannot work on the case?

You were fucking hard on me
when I was being a prick.

I remember exactly what I said!

And what do you think?
Is she involved?

I don't know.

My God...

We'll do this. You're home tomorrow
and then we'll see how we proceed.

Okay? Good.

Hello?

Hi. Where should I put this?

Has something happened, or what?

—Josef was here.
—Okay.

The police believe it is
a contract killing of the cleaning lady.

And Josef wondered what I knew about it.

—What did you say then?
—I told him to go to hell.

Not that I feel sorry
for that fucking cleaner.

—She deserved to die.
—But, Cissi...

—Right?
—I don't like it when you get like this.

When I act like this? You're the one
who's been acting like a fucking psycho.

God damn, you're being so unfair right now.

It has been a fucking nightmare
getting you back on your feet since Dad died.

You've been in some kind of coma
and just waiting for—

—that someone else is going to come
and clean up your fucking mess.

You know what?
You have no idea who I am.

You've never understood that. Ever.

—Now we're leaving.
—Yes, finally.

—Your call has been regis...
—Central Guard.

Hi. Josef Erisson.
I have booked a visit.

Little brother?

It took a while before you got here, didn't it?

Hey, Tobbe.

You want a beating?

Yes!

I had to perform such a fucking slalom with
what I said so that Dad wouldn't lose it.

He always used to hit me here.
Right on the top of my head, like this.

—What the fuck did he just call me? Soup...
—Soup weed.

Soup root. Soup root...!

What the fuck even is this? Rutabaga.

Why did you keep
hanging out with him?

We had a few common
interests, one could say.

We were living together there at the end, though.

In that shitty fucking apartment
in Rotebro.

So one night, there was some gram
of some shit missing and...

He accused me of having stolen
it, lost his temper and started swinging around there.

Shit, damn it.

It was a common fucking kitchen knife.
Did you know that?

I probably didn't realize at first how bad
it was. Neither did he.

He just barged in, lay down
on the bed, and bled to death.

I found the charger later.
It was in his own fucking jacket pocket.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry?

For what, then?

Because I wasn't there then and...

...that I haven't been here.

He was a fucking monster, my dad.

Someone had to do this.

So now I'm the monster.

Ping monster.

Exactly. And you can damn well bet on it.

A table tennis monster, huh?

Do you remember a girl
named Cissi Karlsson?

Cissi...?

Yes, damn it, yes...

She had a sister too, right?

Åsa, right? Yeah, yeah, damn,
I remember them. Why, how so?

Because I... messed things up.

Got myself into a mess.

Those two were pretty sketchy.

—Anyway, that one there.
—The thing is, I don't remember it.

At school
when you met them, they were—

—completely well-behaved and sweet
and all that, but I mean...

Then at night when you lay
and whispered in bed...

Then, you know, fucking hell.

Especially that one there.
She must have been completely hammered, like.

She wanted us to call
her Ricky. Did you know that?

—What did you say?
—Yes, Ricky. No idea why.

—I guess she thought it was cool.
—Åsa?

No. Cissi.

Cissi Karlsson.

What do you mean, what has happened?

—Hi.
—Hi.

—Uh, I don't know if you've heard.
—No, no, what?

Cissi's sister, Åsa Karlsson,
appears to have taken her own life.

She jumped out from a balcony.

So she is dead.

—When did this happen?
—Late last night.

Martin and Steinar go to Cissi
and Oskar and Jenny to Åsa's address.

Because we treat it
like a crime scene.

I think this story
is becoming more and more unsettling.

Or what do you say?

Is there nothing you have heard or
know that could help us?

Um, yeah...

Cissi called herself Ricky
in her teens.

As I said earlier on the phone,
we need to ask a few questions.

—Do you have the energy for it?
—Uh, yes. Yes, absolutely. I can do it.

Do you have any idea at all
why Åsa wanted to take her life?

No.

She has always been very, uh...

...then Dad died, she has been...

I don't know, she has
been stuck in anger and grief.

It's like we have
very different relationships with Dad.

We've had so much fun together,
me and dad—

—and I think Åsa was very,
very jealous of that.

She was jealous.

—Your mother died early, didn't she?
—Mm.

Mm, when we were little.

After high school, I just left them
in a way that was...

...yes...

They became very close, the two of them.
It was as if he...

It was as if he were carrying her.
The whole time.

He became, like, her...

The most important thing in her life,
in a way.

I don't know... they...

He maybe became too overprotective
in some way. I don't know.

When did you last see Åsa?

She was here yesterday.

Last night she was here and we...

And how...how did she seem?

Okay. I thought she seemed good.

We had a good time. It was... Or, well...

We started arguing about something,
but it wasn't anything special.

What were you guys arguing about?

I don't remember.
It was nothing, nothing important.

—I don't remember.
—You don't remember why you were arguing?

What does it matter? Nothing,
a trivial thing. It doesn't matter, does it?

I have to take this. — Yes?

I see.

Okay.

—Yes, but then there's documentation.
—Hi. What, are you going to be here too?

—No, I just drove past.
—Yeah, but we can talk about it later.

So fucking tragic. She has
probably jumped from the balcony.

—Which floor?
—The sixth.

—How long are you staying here then?
—Until Technical is finished down here.

Then we'll see.
They'll continue with the apartment later.

—Jenny? Are you coming?
—See you.

—Hey.
—Hey.

Okay.

Alright then.

Interrogation of Cecilia Karlsson—

—Saturday, May 22nd at 2:13 PM.

The name's Ricky, does that ring a bell?

—What do you mean?
—Just answer the question.

Does that name ring a bell?

It might be a nickname for Rickard.

But you have no personal
relationship with Ricky?

My dad called me Ricky
when I was little.

I see. How did that happen?

They had two different name suggestions
when I was born.

If it's a girl: Cecilia.
If it's a boy: Ricky.

But Dad could never let it go
and called me Ricky sometimes as a joke.

Did you ever call yourself
Ricky or something?

What are you after?

How have you even
found out all this?

Is that Josef?

What the fuck?

Is he here?

He's standing back there, isn't he?

Come on, you coward!

Are you standing there hiding?
What the fuck did I do to you?

Can't you just leave me alone
and go to hell?

Sit down quietly.

I mean, this is just completely insane.

Okay. Sure, uhh...

I called myself
Ricky sometimes. Ridiculous.

Åsa became piggishly jealous of the name,
so I stopped using it.

When then?

In middle school, sort of.

I don't understand.
What does that have to do with anything?

Steinar.

Do you recognize it?

Yes, it looks like my dad's.

—Where did you get that?
—Are you sure about that?

If you log in,
it's a screenshot of a piece of jewelry—

—that my dad gave my mom
as a wedding gift when they married.

—Do you know the password?
—Uh, try "afterlife".

Lowercase, no spaces.

Alright, let's take a break here.

Here are the files
from Vidar's goldsmith workshop.

The last file
was last opened the day before yest—

—and has opened several times in the last few weeks. Should I run it?

—What are you doing here?
—The code to the safe.

Give me the code, for fuck's sake!

The code! Or I'll kill you!

One, nine, eight, two.

Ulrika Kennerberg.

Åsa knew all along who was breaking
into her father's workshop.

—Hi, Jenny.
—Yeah, Åsa had a mobile...

One moment and then one more time.
Wait.

Yes, Åsa had a mobile
in her handbag in the apartment.

And some cash in my pocket.
A... well, a cheap thing.

Try calling this contact.
Ricky.

It's ringing here.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

So Åsa Karlsson called
Per—Erik Stensson—

—and ordered the murder
of the cleaning lady Ulrika Kennerberg.

Most likely to avenge
his father's death.

And then we have nothing that suggests
that Cissi Karlsson is involved.

So we just have to let her go.

So, that was it. For today.
So you can go.

I just want you to know that my
sister would never take her own life.

She would never do that to me.

—Hey, Cissi!
—Hey.

Damn, I heard what happened.

I definitely didn't think
you would come in today.

Let me know if there's anything you want me
to do or if you need anything.

—Yes, a new life. And a hug.
—Of course.

Hey, I have... I have a group
that's coming here later.

—I cancelled them, I didn't think...
—It's fine. God, it's fine.

It was probably for the best.

—Take that.
—We're done here.

—Can I...?
—Yes, god, take them. I'll manage here.

—You can leave later.
—Yes. — Yes, I'm coming. What is it?

—Martin. Do you have a moment?
—Sure. Just come in.

When Cissi Karlsson left, she said
that she was completely convinced—

—that her sister
hasn't killed herself.

So I asked Ayda to look into something
and there is a surveillance camera—

—which is directly opposite
Åsa Karlsson's door.

Here comes Åsa.

Look there now. A man walking
through the gate after her.

—It could be anyone.
—Yes, but wait a minute now.

—She's falling here.
—Oh, my God.

Mm. But there's more. Look now.

—And there he comes out again.
—Yes, exactly.

—It's the same man.
—Who is that?

But, what the fuck?

I'm leaving now! Don't forget to lock up!

Hi. There's nothing
we need to clear up or...

—Åsa didn't kill herself.
—What?

She was probably pushed
and Johan Kennerberg was there.

Excuse me, but... we're closed.

I am sorry.
I should have locked the door.

I have already done that.

Cecilia Karlsson. Is that you?

Yes.

I killed your sister.
And now it's your turn.

Because you did it together, didn't you?

You and your sister killed my daughter.

She was everything I had. You get it?

So... I threw your fucking sister over a balcony railing.

Come out now.

That way we'll put an end to this shit.

I'm at her job now,
but she isn't answering.

It doesn't feel good at all.
Send a car fucking fast.

Cissi!

Ow!

Cissi!

Police!
Show yourselves and drop your weapons!

I don't know what my sister has done!

Cissi! Put down the weapon.

I don't know anything
about your fucking daughter!

Cissi! Drop the weapon!

Then shoot.

Cissi! Drop the weapon.

Shoot then. Do it!
It feels fucking good.

Police!

No, don't touch me!

Let go!

Thank you for coming.

It was at the last second, but absolutely.

I was unarmed.
It could have gone any fucking way.

You were right. I lost my judgment.

I understand you.

So a daughter loses her father
and lies to a murderer to seek revenge.

It leads to a father losing
his daughter and becoming equally devastated.

So the other partner ordered
the murder of Bruno Simonsson?

The first payment to Per-Erik
Stensson came from his account.

He wanted to sell the shop
and Bruno was in the way.

The second payment came from Åsa Karlsson. Also a quarter of a million.

It might sound like a lot, but it's
incredibly cheap for a human life.

Welcome, everyone!
So, I think we should eat, right?

—Dig in. You want one too, right?
—Yes, absolutely.

—How lovely.
—Has everyone received a refill?

—Shall we start with a splash?
—Yes.

—All humans like the curve
—No, up and stand.

all humans love a drink

may I, may I
exchange pants with the lady

no, it is not possible at all, my lord
no, it is not possible at all, my lord.

because I have, because I have
no pants, unfortunately!

—Cheers, everyone!
—Cheers!

—It landed!
—Bravo, bravo.

—I'll set it up for you.
—Yes, please.

—Who is it?
—A friend of Martin's, I think.

—Don't you feel like we're intruding?
—Drop it, it's lovely.

I thought you might want your
dad all to yourself, without all of us.

I gave up on that a long time ago.

Is it possible to take Martin Beck out of the police force? Hardly.

But to take the police out of Martin Beck?
No way, that's not happening.

—Are you talking about me?
—No.

—Couldn't Josef join us today?
—Uh, he... I actually don't know.

—Cheers.
—Cheers.

—What is that...?
—It's actually...

—No, no, no!
—But, what the fuck.

—Hi.
—Hi.

Come in.

Text: Thomas Jansson
Scandinavian Text Service

Publisher: Anders Melin