Читать книгу Camilla Lackberg Crime Thrillers 4-6: The Stranger, The Hidden Child, The Drowning - Camilla Lackberg - Страница 12

The best times were when they sat close, very close to each other. The times when she took out the book. The rustle of the pages as she carefully turned them, the scent of her perfume, the touch of the soft fabric of her blouse against his cheek. That was when the shadows kept their distance. Everything outside, both frightening and tempting, became unimportant. Her voice rose and fell in gentle waves. Sometimes, if they were tired, one of them, or sometimes both, would fall asleep with their heads in her lap. The last thing they remembered before sleep took them was the story, the voice, the rustle of paper, and her fingers caressing their hair.

They had heard the story so many times. They knew it by heart. And yet it felt new each time. Sometimes he watched his sister as she listened. Her mouth half open, her eyes fixed on the book pages, her hair cascading down the back of her nightgown. He used to brush her hair every night. That was his job.

When she read to them, all desire to go out of the locked door vanished. Then there was only a colourful world of adventure, full of dragons, princes and princesses. Not a locked door. Not two locked doors.

He vaguely recalled that he’d been scared at first. But not anymore. Not when she smelled so good and felt so soft and when her voice rose and fell so rhythmically. Not when he knew that she was protecting him. Not when he knew that he was a jinx.

Patrik and Martin had been busy with other tasks at the station for a couple of hours, waiting for Ola to come home from work. They had considered driving over and having the conversation with him there, but decided to wait until five o’clock when his workday at Inventing ended. There was no reason to subject him to a lot of questions from his co-workers. Not yet, anyway. Kerstin hadn’t believed that Ola had anything to do with the anonymous letters and phone calls. Patrik wasn’t so sure. The stack of letters had been sent off to the National Crime Lab that afternoon, and he had also included a request for access to the telephone records of callers to Kerstin and Marit during the period they had received the anonymous calls.

Ola looked like he’d just stepped out of the shower when he opened the door. He’d thrown on some clothes, but his hair was still wet. ‘Yes?’ he said impatiently, and now they saw no trace of the grief from Monday when they’d told him of his ex-wife’s death. At least the effect was not as obvious as it had been with Kerstin.

‘We have a few more questions we’d like to ask you.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ said Ola, still impatient.

‘Yes, there are a few things that have come to our attention with regard to Marit’s death,’ said Patrik, giving him an insistent look.

Ola obviously read the signals, for he stepped aside and motioned for them to come in.

‘Well, it’s just as well that you came, because I’ve been thinking of ringing you.’

‘Is that so?’ said Patrik, sitting down on the sofa. This time Ola had not shown them into the kitchen, but instead led the way to the sofa group in the living room.

‘Yes, I’d like to hear whether it’s possible to get a restraining order issued.’ Ola sat down in a big leather easy chair and crossed his legs.

‘A restraining order against whom?’ said Martin with a searching look at Patrik.

Ola’s eyes flashed. ‘Against Kerstin. For Sofie.’

Neither of the officers showed any surprise. ‘And why is that?’ Patrik’s tone was deceptively calm.

‘There’s no reason for Sofie to have to visit that … that … person now!’ he said so fiercely that he sprayed saliva. Ola leaned forward and went on, with his elbows on his thighs: ‘She went over there today. Her knapsack was gone when I got home for lunch, and I’ve phoned around her friends. She must have gone to see that … lesbo. Can’t you do something to stop it? I mean, naturally I’m going to have a serious talk with Sofie when she comes home, but there must be some way to prevent such things legally, isn’t there?’

‘Well, that might be difficult,’ said Patrik, whose suspicions were now being confirmed. What they wanted to talk to Ola about now seemed highly appropriate. ‘A restraining order is rather an extreme measure, and I don’t think it’s applicable in this case.’ He looked at Ola, who was clearly getting agitated.

‘But, but …’ he stammered. ‘What the hell am I supposed to do? Sofie’s fifteen, and I can’t lock her in the house if she refuses to obey, and that damned …’ he swallowed the words with difficulty, ‘she’s surely not going to cooperate. When Marit was alive I was forced to go along with … all that, but to continue to put up with this crap now, no, damn it!’ He pounded his fist on the glass coffee table so that both Patrik and Martin jumped.

‘So you don’t approve of your ex-wife’s choice of lifestyle?’

‘Choice? Lifestyle?’ Ola snorted. ‘If it hadn’t been for that slut putting all those ideas into Marit’s head, none of this would have happened. Then Marit and Sofie and I could have been together. But instead Marit not only destroyed her family, and betrayed both Sofie and me, but she made all of us laughing stocks!’ He shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it.

‘Did you show your disapproval in any way?’ Patrik said slyly.

Ola gave him a suspicious look. ‘What are you getting at? It’s true, I never hid what I thought about Marit leaving us, but I made a point of not discussing her reasons. It’s not something you’d want to bandy about, that your wife has gone over to the other side. Left for a female, that’s nothing you’d want to brag about.’ He attempted a laugh, but the bitterness in his voice made it sound more ominous.

‘So you didn’t do anything to upset your ex-wife and Kerstin?’

‘I don’t understand what you’re getting at,’ said Ola, narrowing his eyes.

‘We’re talking about letters and phone calls,’ said Martin. ‘Threatening ones.’

‘You think I would do something like that?’ Ola’s eyes opened wide. It was hard to tell whether his surprise was genuine or just play-acting. ‘What sort of relevance does that have now? I mean, Marit’s death was an accident, after all.’

Patrik ignored the remark for the moment. He didn’t want to reveal everything they knew at once, preferring to do so bit by bit.

‘Somebody sent anonymous letters and made anonymous phone calls to Kerstin and Marit.’

‘Well, that’s not surprising, is it?’ said Ola with a smile. ‘Women like that tend to attract that sort of attention. It’s possible that such things are tolerated in the big cities, but not out here in the country.’

Patrik was almost suffocated by all the prejudice radiating from the man sitting in the easy chair. With difficulty he resisted the urge to grab him by the shirt and tell him a few home truths. The only consolation was that Ola was digging himself deeper and deeper into the muck with each sentence he uttered.

‘So you weren’t the one who wrote the letters and kept ringing them?’ said Martin with the same barely concealed expression of distaste.

‘No, I would never stoop to anything like that.’ Ola gave them a supercilious smile. He was so sure of himself, and his home was so spotless and tidy and well-kept. Patrik yearned to shake up his orderly world a little.

‘So you have no objection to letting us take your fingerprints? And compare them with the prints that the crime lab finds on the envelopes?’

‘Fingerprints?’ His smile was suddenly gone. ‘I don’t understand. Why stir up all this now?’ The anxiety was evident on his face. Patrik chuckled to himself; a glance at Martin showed him that his colleague felt the same way.

‘Answer the question first. Can I assume that you will gladly give us your fingerprints so that we can exclude you from the investigation?’

Now Ola was squirming in his leather chair. His eyes shifted from one spot to another and he started to fidget with the things on the glass table. To Patrik and Martin it looked as though the objects already stood in rows as straight as an arrow, but apparently Ola didn’t share their view; he kept moving them a few millimetres in different directions until they were sufficiently aligned to calm his nerves.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘Okay, I suppose I’m going to have to confess.’ His smile had returned. He leaned back and seemed to have regained his equilibrium, which for a moment seemed to have been lost. ‘I might as well tell the truth. I did send some letters and even rang Kerstin and Marit a few times. It was stupid, of course, but I hoped that Marit would realize that their relationship wasn’t going to last. I hoped that she would listen to reason. We had such a good life together. And we could again. If only she gave up those stupid ideas and stopped making a fool of herself. And me. It was even worse for Sofie. Imagine having something like that to carry around at her age. It would make her a real outcast at school. Marit had to realize that. It just wasn’t going to work.’

‘But it had been working for four years, so it didn’t seem that she was in a big hurry to come back to you.’ Patrik kept his expression deceptively neutral.

‘It was just a matter of time.’ Ola was fiddling with the things on the table again. Suddenly he turned to the police officers on the sofa. ‘But I don’t understand what importance all this has now! Marit is gone, and if Sofie and I can just get rid of that person, then we can move on. Why stir up all this now?’

‘Because there are several things indicating that Marit’s death was not an accident.’

A shocked silence descended on the small living room. Ola stared at them. ‘Not an accident?’ He looked from Patrik to Martin. ‘What do you mean? Did someone …?’ He let the sentence die out. If his astonishment was not genuine, he was a damn good actor. Patrik would have given a lot to know exactly what was going on inside Ola’s head at that moment.

‘Yes, we believe that someone else could have been involved in Marit’s death. We’ll know more in a while. But for the time being you … are our prime candidate.’

‘Me?’ said Ola incredulously. ‘But I would never do anything to hurt Marit! I loved her! I just wanted us to be a family again!’

‘So it was this great love that made you threaten her and her girlfriend?’ Patrik’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Ola’s face twitched at the word ‘girlfriend’.

‘But she didn’t understand! She must have been having some sort of mid-life crisis when she turned forty, and her hormones changed and affected her brain somehow. That must be why she threw everything away. We’d been together for twenty years, can you comprehend that? We met in Norway when we were sixteen, and I thought we’d always be together. We went through a lot of …’ he paused, ‘shit together when we were young, but we finally had everything we wanted. And then …’ Ola had raised his voice. Now he threw out his hands in a gesture that told them he still hadn’t grasped what it was that had happened to his marriage four years earlier.

‘Where were you last Sunday evening?’ Patrik gave him a stern look and waited for an answer.

Ola met his gaze with incredulity. ‘Are you asking me for an alibi? Is that what you’re doing? You want my fucking alibi for Sunday evening? Is that what you mean?’

‘Yes, that’s correct,’ Patrik replied calmly.

Ola looked close to losing his self-control but managed to restrain himself. ‘I was at home all evening. Alone. Sofie was sleeping over at a friend’s house, so there’s nobody to confirm I was here. But it’s the truth.’ His eyes were defiant.

‘Nobody you talked to on the phone? No neighbour who dropped by?’ asked Martin.

‘No,’ said Ola.

‘Well, that doesn’t sound so good,’ said Patrik laconically. ‘That means you will remain a suspect, should it turn out that Marit’s death was no accident.’

Ola gave a bitter laugh. ‘So you’re not really sure. Yet you come here and demand an alibi from me.’ He shook his head. ‘You’re both fucking nuts.’ He stood up. ‘And now I think you should go.’

Patrik and Martin got up too. ‘We were finished here anyway. But we may be back.’

Ola laughed again. ‘Yes, I’m sure you will be.’ He went out to the kitchen without bothering to say goodbye.

Patrik and Martin let themselves out. Closing the front door behind them, they paused for a moment.

‘Well, what do you think?’ said Martin, zipping his jacket all the way up. The real warmth of spring had not yet arrived, and the wind was still chilly.

‘I don’t know,’ Patrik sighed. ‘If we were sure that this was a homicide investigation it would have been easier, but now …’ He sighed again. ‘If only I could remember why this scenario feels so familiar. There’s something that …’ He fell silent and shook his head with a grim expression. ‘No, I can’t think what it is. Maybe the techs have managed to find something from her car.’

‘Let’s hope so,’ said Martin.

‘You know, I think I’ll walk home,’ said Patrik as they headed towards the car.

‘But how will you get in to work tomorrow?’

‘I’ll work it out somehow. Maybe I can ask Erica to give me a lift in Anna’s car.’

‘Well, okay then,’ Martin said. ‘I’ll take the car and go home too. Pia wasn’t feeling well, so I need to go home and pamper her a bit tonight.’

‘Nothing serious, I hope,’ said Patrik.

‘No, she’s just been feeling a bit sick lately.’

‘Is it …’ Patrik started to say, but a glance from Martin cut him off. Okay, this was no time to be asking that particular question. He chuckled and waved at Martin as he got in the car. It would be nice to get home.

Lars was massaging Hanna’s shoulders. She sat at the kitchen table with her eyes closed, her arms hanging relaxed at her sides. But her shoulders were rock-hard, and Lars tried as gently as possible to loosen the tension that had settled there.

‘Damn, you should go to a chiropractor, your muscles are all knotted up.’

‘Mmm, I know,’ said Hanna, wincing as he dug into a knot to work on it. ‘Ow,’ she said.

Lars stopped at once. ‘Does it hurt? Should I stop?’

‘No, keep going,’ she said, still with a grimace of pain. But it was a lovely sort of pain. The feeling of a tight muscle releasing was wonderful.

‘How are things at work now?’ His hands kneaded and kneaded.

‘Well, pretty good,’ she said. ‘But it’s a rather sleepy station. None of them is particularly sharp. With the possible exception of Patrik Hedström. And the younger guy, Martin, could also be good someday. But Gösta and Mellberg!’ Hanna laughed. ‘Gösta just sits there playing computer games, and I’ve hardly seen Mellberg. He hangs around in his office all day. This is going to be a real challenge.’

For a while the mood remained light in the room. But soon the old shadows came sneaking in and the usual tension descended on them. There was so much they ought to say. So much they ought to do. But it never got done. The past hovered between them like a gigantic obstruction that they never managed to surmount. They had become resigned. By now the question was whether they even wanted to get past it.

Lars’s hand changed from a kneading massage to a caress as he touched Hanna’s neck. She moaned softly, still with her eyes closed.

‘Is it ever going to end, Lars?’ she whispered as his hands continued caressing her, down over her shoulders, forward to her collarbone, in under her jumper. His mouth was now close to her ear and she could feel the warmth of his breath.

‘I don’t know. I just don’t know, Hanna.’

‘But we have to talk about it. Some day we have to talk about it.’ She could hear the beseeching and desperate tone that always sneaked into her voice when the subject came up.

‘No, we don’t.’ Now Lars’s tongue was at her earlobe. She tried to resist, but as usual the desire was rising inside her.

‘But what are we going to do?’ Now the desperation was mixed with passion and she abruptly turned towards him.

With his face close to hers he said, ‘We’re going to live our lives. Day by day, hour by hour. We’ll do our jobs, we’ll laugh, we’ll do everything that’s expected of us. We love each other.’

‘But …’ Her protests were stopped by his mouth on hers. The capitulation that followed was all too familiar. She felt his hands all over her body. They left burning traces behind, and she felt the tears coming. All those years of frustration, of shame, of passion, were contained in those tears. Lars greedily licked them up and his tongue left wet tracks on her cheeks. She tried to turn away, but his love, his hunger, was everywhere and would not let her break free. Finally she gave in. She cleansed her mind of all thoughts, the entire past. She responded to his kisses and clung to him as he pressed his body to hers. They tore off each other’s clothes and fell to the kitchen floor. Far away she could hear herself screaming.

Afterwards she always felt as empty as ever. And lost.

‘Patrik seemed very subdued yesterday when he came home.’ Anna cast a glance at Erica as she concentrated on driving.

Erica sighed. ‘Yes, he’s out of sorts. I tried to talk to him this morning when I drove him to work, but he wasn’t very talkative. I’ve seen that expression before. There’s something he’s worried about, something at work that’s eating him. The only thing I can do is give him time; sooner or later he’ll start talking.’

‘Men,’ said Anna, and a shadow passed over her face. Erica sensed the change in her sister and instantly felt a knot in her stomach. She lived in eternal fear that Anna would fall back into apathy again, that she would lose that spark of life that had now been awakened in her. But this time Anna managed to dismiss the memory of the hell she’d been through, the memory that so insistently kept forcing its way into her thoughts.

‘Does it have anything to do with that accident?’ she said.

‘I think so,’ said Erica, looking around cautiously before she entered the roundabout by Torp. ‘At any rate he said that they’re investigating some discrepancies that have emerged, and he said the accident reminded him of something.’

‘Of what?’ Anna asked. ‘What could a car crash remind him of?’

‘I don’t know. That’s just what he said. But he was going to look into it further today at work, try to get to the bottom of it.’

‘I assume you didn’t have a chance to show him the list.’

Erica laughed. ‘No, I didn’t have the heart to show it to him when he was so down. I’ll try to sneak it in this weekend when I find the right moment.’

‘Good,’ said Anna. Without being asked she had taken on the role of chief planner and boss of the wedding project. ‘The most important thing you have to point out to him is what he’s going to wear. We could go look today, and you can pick out some things you want him to try on, but that part won’t be easy without him.’

‘Well, what Patrik’s going to wear isn’t a problem. I’m more worried about myself,’ Erica said gloomily. ‘Do you think they have an extra-large department at the bridal shop?’ She turned into the car park at Kampenhof and unfastened her seat belt. Anna did the same and then turned to Erica.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll look fantastic.’

‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ Erica said. ‘Prepare yourself – this isn’t going to be fun.’ She locked the car and led the way down the shopping street, with Maja sitting in the pushchair. The bridal shop was on one of the small cross-streets, and she had rung them in advance to make sure they were open.

Anna said nothing until they reached the shop. She squeezed Erica’s arm just as they entered, trying to infuse a little enthusiasm. It was a wedding dress they were shopping for, after all.

Erica took a deep breath when they closed the door behind them. White, white, white. Tulle and lace and pearls and sequins. A short woman in her sixties wearing too much make-up came towards them.

‘Welcome, welcome!’ she chirped, clapping her hands in enthusiasm. Erica cynically thought that the shop owner must not get very many customers, considering how glad she was to see them.

Anna stepped forward and took charge. ‘We’d like to find a wedding dress for my sister here.’ She pointed to Erica and the woman clapped her hands again.

‘Oh, how wonderful, are you getting married?’

No, I just want to own a wedding dress. For my own amusement, Erica thought sourly, but she kept the comment to herself.

Anna looked as if she could hear what Erica was thinking and was quick to jump in, ‘The wedding is on Whitsun Eve.’

‘Good heavens,’ said the woman in astonishment. ‘Then you’ll have to hurry, hurry. Only a bit over a month left. It’s none too soon to be looking for a dress.’

Once again Erica swallowed a sarcastic remark as she felt Anna’s hand on her arm. The woman motioned for them to step further into the shop and Erica followed hesitantly. This situation felt so … odd. She had actually never set foot inside a bridal shop before, so that might explain the unfamiliar feeling. She looked around and her head started to spin. How in the world would she be able to find a dress here, in the midst of this sea of fluff?

Anna once again picked up on her mood. She pointed to an easy chair and told Erica to have a seat. Erica put Maja on the floor. Then Anna said in an authoritative voice: ‘Perhaps you could bring out a few different designs for my sister to look at. Not too many frills and flounces. Simple and classic. Although perhaps with some small detail that adds a touch of elegance. Don’t you think?’ She sent a glance at Erica, who couldn’t help but laugh. Anna knew her almost better than she knew herself.

Dress after dress was brought out. Sometimes Erica shook her head, sometimes she nodded. Finally they had a rack of five dresses to try on. With a heavy heart Erica stepped into the changing room. This was not her favourite pastime. Seeing her body from three angles at once, while the merciless light illuminated all the parts hidden beneath winter clothes, was a nerve-wracking experience. Especially when Erica noticed that she probably should have used a razor here and there. Oh well, too late to do anything about it. She cautiously put on the first dress. It was a strapless sheath, and she knew when she pulled up the zipper that it was not going to be a success.

‘How’s it going?’ called the woman in her most enthusiastic voice from outside the drapery. ‘Do you need any help with the zipper?’

‘Yes, I think I do,’ said Erica, stepping out of the changing room reluctantly. She turned her back to them so that the woman could zip her up, and then she took a deep breath and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Hopeless, utterly hopeless. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes. This wasn’t the way she had imagined herself as a bride. In her dreams she had always been exquisitely slim, with a firm bosom and glowing skin. The figure staring back at her from the mirror looked like a female version of the Michelin man. Rolls of fat bulged around her waist, her complexion was winter-weary and lacklustre. The bodice had also pushed up some odd sausages of fat and skin in her armpits. She looked terrible. She swallowed her tears and went back in the changing room. Somehow she managed to get the zipper undone without help and then stepped out of the dress. On with the next one.

This one she could get on all by herself, and she went out to show Anna and the shop owner. This time she couldn’t hide how she felt; she could see clearly in the mirror how her lower lip was quivering. Some tears oozed out and she wiped them away in annoyance with the back of her hand. She didn’t want to stand here crying and feeling embarrassed, but she couldn’t help how she felt. This dress also fitted badly. Again it was a simple design, but with a halter neck, which at least removed the rolls under her arms. Her stomach was the biggest worry. For the life of her she couldn’t understand how she’d be able to get into good enough shape to feel happy on her wedding day. This was supposed to be fun, wasn’t it? It was something she’d looked forward to her whole life. Standing here selecting and rejecting and trying on one fantastic wedding dress after another. Imagining how everyone’s admiring gaze would turn towards her when she walked down the aisle with her bridegroom. In her dreams she had always looked like a princess on her wedding day. More tears ran down her cheeks, and Anna stepped up and put a hand on her bare arm.

‘What is it, sweetie?’

Erica sobbed, ‘I’m, I’m … just so fat. Everything looks horrible on me.’

‘You don’t look fat at all. There’s a bit left over from your pregnancy, that’s all, and we can fix that before the wedding. You have a fantastic figure. I mean, check out this décolletage, for instance. I would have killed for that when I got married.’ Anna pointed into the mirror and Erica reluctantly looked in that direction. First she saw her pathetic face with the streaks of tears on her cheeks and a red, swollen nose. Then she moved her eyes down and yes, maybe Anna was right. There was actually a very nice cleavage visible there.

Now the shop owner chimed in. ‘The dress fits, you just don’t have the proper undergarments on. If you try a body stocking or a corset underneath, then that tummy will disappear in a flash. Believe me, I’ve seen much worse in my day. As your sister says, you have a marvellous figure. It’s only a matter of finding a dress to accentuate your curves. Here, try this one on and I’m sure you’ll start feeling more cheerful about everything. This one will fit you even better.’ She took one of the dresses from the rack in the changing room and held it out to Erica, who reluctantly stepped back inside. With a sceptical look on her face she pulled on the dress and went back out to the shop. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and then stood in front of the floor-length mirror as stoically as a soldier rushing back to the front lines. An astonished smile spread over her face. This one was something altogether different. It fitted … perfectly! Everything that had looked terrible before had been turned to her advantage in this dress. Her stomach still stuck out a bit too much, but no more than a good corset could fix. She gave Anna and the woman a surprised look. Enchanted, Anna just nodded, and the shop owner clapped her hands in delight.

‘What a bride! What did I tell you? This one is just perfect for your height and your figure!’

Erica looked in the mirror one more time, still a bit dubious. But she had to agree. She felt like a princess. As long as she got rid of some of those excess kilos in the weeks before the wedding, it would be just perfect. She turned to Anna.

‘I don’t need to try any more. I’ll take it!’

‘How lovely,’ the woman beamed. ‘I think you’ll be more than pleased. If you like you can leave it here until the wedding, then we can do one last fitting the week before. If it needs to be taken in or anything, we’ll have plenty of time.’

‘Thank you, Anna,’ Erica whispered, squeezing her sister’s hand. Anna squeezed back. ‘You are simply gorgeous in that dress,’ she said, and Erica thought she saw a tear in her sister’s eyes too. It was a beautiful moment. A moment they both deserved after all that they’d been through.

‘So, how’s it going so far?’ Lars looked around the circle. No one said a word. Most of them were staring at their shoes. All except Barbie, who was watching him intently.

‘Would anyone like to go first?’ He gave them a look of encouragement, and now at least some of them raised their eyes from their shoes. Finally Mehmet spoke.

‘Yeah, it’s going okay.’ Then he shut up.

‘Would you like to elaborate?’ Lars’s voice was gentle with just a hint of coaxing in his tone.

‘Well, I mean it feels great so far. The job is, like, okay and all …’ Mehmet fell silent again.

‘How do the rest of you like the jobs you’ve been assigned?’

‘Jobs?’ Calle snorted. ‘I stand there washing dishes all day long. But I’m going to talk to Fredrik about it this afternoon. I have to see about making some changes on that front.’ He gave Tina a meaningful glance. She just glared at him.

‘And you, Jonna, how has the week been for you?’

Jonna was the only one who still seemed to find her shoes incredibly interesting. She mumbled something in reply but without looking up. Everyone sitting in the circle in the middle of the big room in the community centre leaned forward to try and hear what she was saying.

‘Excuse me, Jonna, we didn’t hear that. Could you repeat it? And I’d appreciate it if you showed us the courtesy of looking us in the eyes when you talk to us. Otherwise it feels as if you’re not treating us with respect. Is that your intention, Jonna?’

‘Yeah, is it?’ Uffe put in, kicking her feet. ‘Do you think you’re better than us, or what?’

‘That isn’t very constructive, Uffe,’ Lars warned him. ‘What we want to achieve here is a warm and safe environment where you can all talk about your feelings and experiences in a secure and supportive setting.’

‘You’re using words that are probably too big for Uffe,’ Tina scoffed. ‘You’ll have to use simpler phrases if you want Uffe to keep up.’

‘Fucking cunt,’ was Uffe’s eloquent reply, and he glared at her angrily.

‘That’s exactly what I was talking about.’ Lars’s voice took on a new sharpness. ‘There’s no point in picking at each other like this. You’re all in an extreme situation that can be very trying emotionally. This is a chance to relieve the pressure in a healthy way.’ He looked around the circle, fixing his disapproval on one after the other. Some nodded. Barbie raised her hand.

‘Yes, Lillemor?’ She took her hand down.

‘First of all, my name isn’t Lillemor, it’s Barbie now,’ she said with a sullen pout. Then she smiled. ‘But I’d just like to say that I think this is incredibly great! We all get a chance to sit here and speak our minds. We never had anything like this on Big Brother.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ said Uffe as he slumped in his chair and stared at Barbie. Her smile vanished and she lowered her eyes.

‘I think that was very well said,’ said Lars, trying to encourage her. ‘And you’ll have an opportunity for individual therapy as well as group therapy. I think we’ll conclude the group segment now, so maybe you and I … Barbie, can start on the individual therapy. Okay?’

She looked up and smiled again. ‘Yes, I’d like that. I have tons of stuff I need to talk about.’

‘Excellent,’ said Lars, returning her smile. ‘So I suggest we go behind the set to the room in back so we can talk undisturbed. Then I’ll talk to each of you in order, going round the circle. After Barbie comes Tina, then Uffe, and so on. Will that be okay?’ No one replied, so Lars took that as a yes.

As soon as the door closed behind Barbie and Lars, they all started talking. All except Jonna, who as usual preferred silence.

‘What fucking bullshit,’ Uffe scoffed, slapping his knee.

Mehmet gave him an annoyed look. ‘What do you mean? I think this is good. You know how fucked up you can get after a couple of weeks on one of these shows. I think it’s great that for once they’re thinking about the cast. They want us to feel good.’

‘“They want us to feel good”,’ Uffe mimicked him in a shrill voice. ‘You’re such a fucking pussy, Mehmet, you know? You ought to have one of those health programmes on TV. Sit there in some tight outfit and yoga yourself or whatever the fuck it’s called.’

‘Don’t mind him, he’s just being stupid,’ said Tina, glaring at Uffe, who now turned his attention to her.

‘What the hell are you talking about, bitch? You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you? Bragging about what good grades you get and how many big words you know. You think you’re better than the rest of us. And now you think you’re going to be a pop star too.’ His laughter dripped with scorn, and he looked around the group for support. Nobody responded. But nobody protested either, so he kept it up. ‘Do you really believe that shit? You’re just embarrassing everybody, including yourself. I heard that you talked them into letting you sing your pathetic fucking song tonight, and I look forward to seeing people throw rotten tomatoes at you. Shit, I’ll come myself and stand in the front row to throw some.’

‘You’d better shut up now, Uffe,’ said Mehmet, skewering him with his gaze. ‘You’re just jealous because Tina has talent, while the only thing you have is a short-lived career as a reality-show idiot. After that you’ll be back in the warehouse again carting boxes around all day.’

Uffe laughed again, but this time he sounded nervous. There was a ring of truth to Mehmet’s words, and that made the uneasiness surge inside Uffe. But he pushed away the feeling.

‘You don’t have to believe me if you don’t want. But you’ll get a chance to hear for yourselves tonight. The hicks in this town are going to laugh themselves silly.’

‘I hate you, Uffe, just so you know.’ Tina got up with tears in her eyes and left the group. A camera followed her. She started running to get away, but it was impossible to escape the cameras. Their hungry eyes were everywhere.

Patrik couldn’t concentrate on anything else. Thoughts of the car crash haunted him. If only he could put his finger on what it was that seemed so familiar about the death. He picked up the folder containing all the papers from the investigation and sat down to go through everything again. He had no idea how many times he’d done this. As always when he was thinking intensely, he muttered to himself.

‘Bruises around the mouth, unbelievably high blood alcohol content in an individual who never drank, according to her relatives.’ He ran his finger over the autopsy report, looking for something he might have missed on previous readings. But nothing seemed irregular. Patrik picked up the phone and rang a number he knew by heart.

‘Hello, Pedersen, this is Patrik Hedström with the Tanum police. Look, I’m sitting here with the autopsy report. Could you spare five minutes to go over it with me one more time?’

Pedersen agreed, so Patrik continued, ‘These bruises around the mouth, can you say when she got them? Okay.’ He wrote notes in the margin as he talked.

‘And the alcohol, can you say anything about the amount of time that elapsed while she drank it? No, I don’t mean a specific time of day; well, that too perhaps. But did she sit drinking for a long time, or did she guzzle it down or … that’s exactly what I mean.’ He listened intently and furiously jotted down notes.

‘Interesting, very interesting. Did you find anything else that was odd during the post-mortem?’ Patrik listened and didn’t write anything for a moment. He discovered that he was pressing the receiver so hard against his ear that it started to hurt, so he loosened his grip.

‘Remnants of tape around the mouth? Yes, that’s undoubtedly significant. But there’s nothing else you can tell me?’ He sighed at the less than informative answers he was getting and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

‘Okay, I suppose that will have to do.’ Patrik hung up the receiver reluctantly. He had really been hoping for more. He took out the photos from the accident scene and began to study them, searching for something, anything, that might trigger his intractable memory. The most annoying part was that he wasn’t a hundred per cent sure that there was anything to remember. Maybe he was just imagining things. Maybe it was some odd form of déjà vu. Maybe he’d seen something on TV or in a film, or merely heard something, that was making his brain try to search for something that didn’t exist. But just as he was about to cast aside the papers in frustration, a flash occurred between the synapses in his brain. He leaned forward to inspect more closely the photo he still held in his hand, and a feeling of triumph came over him. Maybe he wasn’t so far off course after all. Maybe something specific had been hovering in the darkest nooks of his memory after all.

In one stride he was at the door. It was time to head down to the archives.

Barbie listlessly let the goods pass by on the conveyor belt as she read off the bar codes. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she stubbornly blinked them away. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself by sitting here crying.

The conversation that morning had stirred up so many emotions. So much muck that had been lying on the bottom was now coming up to the surface. She looked at Jonna sitting at the checkout in front of her. She envied her in a way. Maybe not her depression and all that cutting. Barbie would never be able to slice a knife through her own flesh like that. What she envied was Jonna’s obvious indifference to what everyone else thought. For Barbie there was nothing more important than the way she looked and appeared to others. That hadn’t always been the case, as the school pictures dug up by that damned evening tabloid had shown. The photos of her when she was small and skinny, with gigantic braces, almost nonexistent breasts, and dark hair. She was upset when the photos appeared on the newspaper placards. But not for the reason everyone thought. Not because she worried that people would know that both her hair colour and her boobs were fake. She wasn’t that stupid. But it hurt to see what she no longer had. Her happy smile. Full of self-confidence. She’d been happy about who she was, secure and satisfied with her life. But everything changed the day her pappa died.

She and Pappa got along so well. Her mamma died when Barbie was little, of cancer. But somehow he had managed to make her feel whole in spite of her mother’s death; she had never felt as though she lacked anything. She knew that things had been up and down for a while, when she was a baby, right after her mamma died, and when All The Evil happened. She had heard all about it, but her pappa had paid the price, learned from it, and gone on to build a life for himself and his daughter. Until that day in October.

It felt so unreal when it happened. In an instant her whole life had been eradicated and everything had been taken from her. She had no other family, no other relatives to go to, so she’d been cast into a world of foster families and temporary living situations. She had learned lessons she would have preferred not to know. The self-confidence she’d had before vanished. Her friends couldn’t understand that she had changed inside because of what had happened. That day took something away from her, and she would never be the same. Her friends tried to support her for a while, but eventually they left her to her fate.

That was when her craving for confirmation among older boys and tough girls began. It wasn’t enough to be an ordinary tomboy any longer. And the name Lillemor no longer fit either. So she started with what she could do on her own and what she could afford. She dyed her hair blonde in the bathroom belonging to one of the boyfriends who passed through her life. She replaced her old clothes with new ones: tighter, shorter, sexier. Because she had discovered what her ticket out of misery was going to be. Sex. It could buy her attention and material things. It gave her a chance to stand out from the crowd. One boyfriend had plenty of money, so he financed the breasts. She would have preferred them a bit smaller, but he was the one paying, so he got to decide. He wanted E-cups and that’s what he got. When her physical transformation was done, it was merely a matter of packaging. The boyfriend after the breast financier had called her ‘little Barbie doll’, and that solved the question of her name. Then all she had to do was decide what would be the best forum for launching her new self. It had begun with some small modelling jobs, requiring scanty clothing, or none at all. But her breakthrough had come on Big Brother. She became the big star of the series. And it hadn’t bothered her in the least that the entire population of Sweden was able to observe her sex life from their living rooms. Who cared? She had no family to berate her for publicly shaming them. She was alone in the world.

She usually succeeded in not thinking about what was going on inside Barbie. She had pressed Lillemor so far back in her consciousness that the girl hardly existed anymore. She had done the same thing with the memory of her father. She couldn’t permit herself to remember him. If she were to survive, the sound of his laughter, or the touch of his hand against her cheek, could no longer exist in the life she was now living. It would hurt too much. But this morning’s conversation with that psychologist had touched strings that stubbornly continued to vibrate inside her. And she didn’t seem to be the only one to have such a reaction. The mood had been subdued after they had each gone into the room behind the set and sat in the chair facing the man. Sometimes it felt as though all their negativity was being directed at her, and she occasionally had the feeling that some of the others were giving her malicious looks. But every time she turned round to see where that creeping feeling was coming from, the moment would pass.

At the same time there was something stirring restlessly inside her. Something that Lillemor tried to fix her attention on. But Barbie forced back the feeling. Some things she simply couldn’t allow to slip out.

Groceries continued to pass along the conveyor belt in front of her at the checkout stand. It never ended.

Searching in the archives was, as usual, both dreary and arduous work. Nothing seemed to be where it should be. Patrik had sat down on the floor cross-legged, with boxes all around him. He knew what sort of document he was looking for, and in a foolish moment he had thought they would be easily found in a box labelled ‘Educational Material’. But no such luck. He heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up. It was Martin.

‘Hey, Annika said she saw you headed down here. What are you doing?’ Martin gazed in wonderment at all the boxes spread out in a circle around Patrik.

‘I’m looking for notes from a conference I attended in Halmstad a couple of years ago. You would have thought they’d be archived in some logical manner, but no. Some idiot has moved everything around, so nothing matches.’ He tossed another stack of papers into yet another box that had been archived in the wrong place.

‘Yeah, Annika’s always nagging us about keeping the documents in order down here. She claims that she files everything in the right place, but then the documents apparently grow feet.’

‘I don’t understand why people can’t simply put things back where they found them. I know I put the notes in a folder that I archived in this box.’ He pointed to the one labelled ‘Educational Material’ and continued, ‘But now they’re not here. So the question is, which damn box are they in? “Missing persons”, “Solved cases”, “Unsolved cases”, and so on and so forth. Your guess is as good as mine.’ He swept his hand round the cellar piled with boxes from floor to ceiling.

‘Well, what fascinates me most is the fact that you actually filed your conference notes. Mine are still back in my office in some pile or other.’

‘I should probably have done the same thing. But I was naïve enough to think that somebody else might have a use for them.’ Patrik sighed and grabbed another stack of documents and started leafing through them. Martin sat down next to him on the floor and started in one of the boxes too.

‘I’ll help you. Then it’ll go faster. What am I looking for? What sort of conference was it? And why are you looking for your notes, anyway?’

Patrik didn’t look up but merely replied, ‘As I said, it was a conference in Halmstad, in 2002 if I remember correctly. It had to do with strange cases that were still raising questions and remained unsolved.’

‘And …’ said Martin, waiting for more.

‘Well, I’ll tell you more when we find the notes. So far it’s a vague idea, so I want to refresh my memory before I say anymore.’

‘Okay,’ said Martin. He was still curious, but he knew Patrik well enough to realize it wouldn’t do any good to pressure him.

Suddenly Patrik looked up and smiled slyly. ‘But I’ll tell you if you tell me …’

‘Tell you what?’ said Martin in surprise, but when he saw Patrik’s smile he understood what his colleague was getting at. He laughed and said, ‘Fair enough. When you tell me, I’ll tell you.’

After an hour of fruitless searching, Patrik suddenly gave out a yell.

‘Here they are!’ He pulled some papers out of a plastic folder.

Martin recognized Patrik’s writing and tried to read what it said upside down. But it was no use, and he had to wait in frustration while Patrik skimmed through the notes. After he’d read three pages, his index finger stopped suddenly in the middle of the page. A deep furrow formed between Patrik’s eyebrows and Martin tried to coax him mentally to read faster. After what seemed like forever, Patrik looked up in triumph.

‘Okay, your secret first,’ he said.

‘Oh, come on, I’m so curious I’m going to die.’ Martin laughed and tried to tear the papers out of Patrik’s hand. But his colleague was prepared for that manoeuvre and snatched them away, holding them up in the air. ‘Forget it. You first, then me.’

Martin sighed. ‘You’re such a damned tease, you know that? All right, it’s what you thought. Pia and I are going to have a baby. At the end of November.’ He held up a warning finger. ‘But you can’t tell anybody yet! We’re only in week eight, and we want to keep it quiet until after week twelve.’

Patrik held up both hands. The papers he held in his right hand fluttered. ‘I promise, my lips are sealed. But congratulations, for God’s sake!’

Martin grinned from ear to ear. Several times he’d been close to telling Patrik. He was eager to spread the good news, but Pia wanted to wait until the critical first trimester had safely passed. Then he could tell people. It was a relief to tell someone at last.

‘So, now you know. How about you tell me why we’ve been sitting here covered with dust for the last hour.’

Patrik turned serious at once. He handed over the document to Martin, pointed at the spot to begin reading, and waited. After a while Martin looked up in astonishment.

‘Now there can’t be any doubt that Marit was murdered,’ said Patrik.

‘No, I suppose not.’

One question had now been answered. But that only made even more questions pile up. They had tons of work ahead of them.

He was slamming the baking sheets around so hard that the clatter could be heard all the way in the front of the shop. Mehmet stuck his head into the back regions of the bakery.

‘What the hell are you doing? Tearing down the place, or what?’

‘Fuck off!’ Uffe purposely slammed the sheets down again.

‘Sorry,’ said Mehmet, holding up his hands. ‘Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, did you?’

Uffe didn’t answer. He stacked up the baking sheets and then sat down. He was so tired of all this. Sodding Tanum hadn’t lived up to his expectations, not so far at least. It hadn’t sunk in until now that he was actually going to have to work. That was a serious drawback. This was the first time he’d ever had to do an honest day’s work. A few break-ins, several muggings and stuff like that had previously ensured him a life as a non-worker. It was no life of luxury though; he’d never dared do anything more than minor burglaries, but they brought in enough to keep him out of drudgery. And then he’d ended up here. Even life on the island had been easier than this. There he was able to lie about and sunbathe all day, talking trash with the other cast members. An occasional challenge to do, but otherwise pure leisure. He’d been seriously hungry, but the lack of food hadn’t bothered him as much as he’d thought.

Nor had the other participants in Sodding Tanum lived up to his expectations. They were all morons. The oh-so-dependable Mehmet worked like a slave in the bakery, completely of his own free will. Calle was only on the show so he could continue to be the king of the Stureplan club scene. Tina was so fucking superior, it made him want to punch her. As for Jonna, what a loser. All that shit with cutting herself, he just didn’t get it. Last but not least, Barbie. Uffe’s face clouded. If that cheap slut thought she could get away with pulling a stunt like that, she had another think coming. The things he’d heard that morning made him want to have a little talk with that silicone queen.

‘Uffe, are you planning to do any work today, or what?’ Simon gave him a stern look, and with a sigh Uffe got up from the chair. He grinned at the camera on the wall and went out front. He’d have to give in and look busy for a while. But tonight … tonight he and Barbie were going to have a serious talk.

On his way out of the station, Mellberg stopped by Hedström’s office. Both Patrik and Martin were there. They looked busy. There were papers spread all over the desk, and Martin was writing in his notebook. Patrik was on the phone and had the receiver clamped between his ear and shoulder, leaving his hands free to search through the papers in front of him at the same time. For a moment Mellberg considered going in to find out what was so urgent. But he decided against it. He had more important things to do. Like going home and getting ready for his date with Rose-Marie. They were meeting at seven o’clock at the Gestgifveri, which meant that he had two hours left to make himself as presentable as possible.

He was breathing heavily by the time he’d made the short walk home. He wasn’t in the best of shape, he had to admit. When he stepped into his flat he saw everything for an instant with the eyes of a stranger. This would not do at all. Even he could see that. If he were to get lucky and have her over for a little nighttime interlude at his place, something would have to be done. His whole body protested at the idea of doing any sort of cleaning. On the other hand he’d seldom had such a good incentive. He was surprised how important it seemed to make a good impression.

An hour later he was panting as he sat down on the sofa. Its cushions had been fluffed for the first time since he’d moved in. All of a sudden he realized why he rarely did any housework. It was much too strenuous. But when he looked around the flat he could see that the cleaning had actually worked wonders. The place no longer looked so slovenly. He had a few nice pieces of furniture that he’d inherited from his parents. Relieved of the layer of dust the furniture didn’t look half bad. He’d also managed to air out the mouldy smell that usually hung in the air, originating from leftover food and other unhygienic stuff. The worktop, which was usually cluttered with dirty dishes, shone in the springtime sun. Now he could actually picture bringing a woman here.

Mellberg looked at the clock and got up abruptly. Only an hour left until he would meet Rose-Marie, and he was sweaty and covered with dust. He would have to get cleaned up fast. He looked through his clothes for something to wear. The selection was not as large as he would have wished. On closer inspection, most of his shirts and trousers had spots on them, and they hadn’t been anywhere near an iron in a long time. Finally by a process of elimination he ended up with a blue-and-white-striped shirt, black trousers, and a red tie with Donald Duck on it. This last he thought looked really smart. And red suited him, if he did say so himself. The trousers however belonged to the unironed category, and he pondered how to solve that problem. He searched all over the flat, but there was no iron to be found. His gaze fell on the sofa and a brilliant idea occurred to him. He tore off the seat cushions and carefully spread out the trousers as flat as possible. Of course it wasn’t that clean underneath the cushions, but he could deal with that later. It was mostly lint and crumbs that could be brushed off. He put back the cushions and sat down for five minutes. If he then spent another five minutes on the sofa after he got out of the shower, the trousers would probably look freshly ironed. Lucky that he wasn’t one of those helpless bachelors, he thought with satisfaction. He was still able to find a good solution to any problem.

People began to stream towards the community centre, where the dance was being held. The beds of the cast had been moved out, and they’d had to lock up their personal possessions. No one had been admitted into the hall yet, so the queue was growing longer and snaking through the parking area. The girls stood there freezing and hopping in place. The cool spring wind was doing its best to make them regret they’d worn their shortest skirts and their most low-cut tops. The one thing that all the people in line had in common was the expectant expression on their faces. This was the most exciting event to occur in Tanumshede in a long time. Young people were coming from the whole community and even some from out of town, from Strömstad and Uddevalla. They eagerly watched the door that would soon be opened. Inside were their heroes, their idols. They had succeeded in getting what everyone else could only dream of. Becoming a celebrity. Getting invited to parties with other celebrities. Being seen on TV. So maybe tonight someone from town might get a chance to grab some of the star power. Do something that would make the cameras point at them. Like that girl on Sodding Töreboda. She’d managed to hook up with Andreas from The Bar and then she was on several episodes of the show. Imagine being able to pull off something like that. The girls tugged nervously at their clothes, taking lip gloss out of their purses to apply another coat. They fluffed their hair and sprayed it while trying to see the results in tiny pocket mirrors. The tension was palpable.

Fredrik Rehn laughed when he saw the queue out of the window. ‘Look here, boys and girls. Here come the extras. We have to make the most out of this evening, okay? Don’t hold back. Drink and have a good time and do whatever you feel like doing.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Just make sure to do it in front of the cameras. I don’t want to hear about anybody sneaking out to have some fun on their own. That could mean a lawsuit for breach of contract. You’re here to work and your job is to go out there and liven up the place.’

‘Then what the hell is Jonna doing here?’ Uffe laughed and looked around the group for approval. ‘She couldn’t even liven up an old folks’ home.’ His raw laugh was familiar to the others, but Jonna didn’t even bother looking at him. She kept her eyes fixed on her lap.

‘Jonna is incredibly popular with the girls in the fourteen to nineteen age demographic. Many of them identify with her. That’s why we want her here.’ But Fredrik couldn’t help agreeing with Uffe. The girl was like a social black hole. So fucking depressed. The decision to include her had been made against his wishes, and he just had to live with it.

‘So, are you all clear about what’s important tonight? Party, party, party!’ He pointed to the drinks table that was decked out. ‘And we’re all going to support Tina tonight when she sings her song. Right?’ He stared at Uffe, who merely snorted.

‘Yeah yeah, whatever. So, can we start drinking now, or what?’

‘Be my guest,’ said Fredrik with a smile. His teeth shone a dazzling white. ‘Let’s put on a great show tonight!’ He held both thumbs up in the air.

His remarks were met with a scattered murmur of assent. Then they attacked the drinks table.

The people queued up outside slowly began entering the hall.

Anna was making dinner when Patrik came home. Erica was sitting with the children in the living room watching Bolibompa on Channel 1. Maja waved her arms in delight every time Björne came on screen, and Emma and Adrian seemed to be in a trance. Erica’s stomach was growling loudly, and she sniffed hungrily at the aroma of Thai food coming from the kitchen. Anna had promised to make something that was both delicious and low-cal, and judging by the smell she was keeping her promise when it came to the first pledge.

‘Hi, darling,’ said Erica with a smile when Patrik came into the room. He looked tired. A bit scruffy too, when she looked more closely. ‘What have you been doing today? You look … tousled,’ she said, pointing at his shirt.

Patrik peered down at his dirty clothes and sighed. He began unbuttoning his shirt. ‘I was in our dusty archives digging for something. I’ll go up and take a quick shower and put on some clean clothes. Tell you more later.’

Erica watched him disappear up the stairs to the bedroom. She went out to join Anna in the kitchen.

‘Did Patrik come home? I thought I heard the door,’ Anna said without looking up from her pots.

‘Yes, he did. But he went upstairs to shower and change clothes. Looks like he had a sweaty day at work.’

Now Anna looked up. ‘Could you help me set the table? Then it’ll all be ready when he comes down.’

The timing was perfect. Patrik came down the stairs, his hair wet and wearing his comfy clothes, just as Anna set the big pot on the table.

‘Mmm, that smells good,’ he said with a smile to Anna. The whole atmosphere was different now that Anna had come out of her funk.

‘It’s a Thai curry, made with light coconut milk. With rice and wokked veggies.’

‘Why this sudden urge for a healthy diet?’ said Patrik sceptically, no longer so sure that the food would taste as good as it smelled.

‘Your future bride expressed a wish that you both look fantastic when you walk down the aisle. So “Plan Fantastic” starts now.’

‘Well, you do have a point there,’ said Patrik, pulling down his T-shirt to hide the bulge that had started to form over the past couple of years. ‘What about the kids? Aren’t they eating with us?’

‘No, they’re having fun in the living room,’ said Anna. ‘It’s our chance to have some peace and quiet.’

‘But Maja? Can she take care of herself?’

Erica laughed. ‘What a mother hen you are. She’ll be fine for a while. And believe me, Emma will pipe up if Maja does anything wrong.’

As if on cue they heard a shrill voice from the living room. ‘Ericaaaa – Maja’s messing with the video!’

Patrik laughed and got up. ‘I’ll take it. You two sit down and serve yourselves.’

They could hear him scolding Maja, making sure to give her a kiss afterwards. Even the big kids got a kiss, and he looked more relaxed when he returned and sat down.

‘So, what were you toiling over all day?’

Patrik gave them a brief account of what had happened. Both Anna and Erica put down their forks and stared at him, fascinated by what he was telling them. Erica spoke first.

‘But what do you think the connection is? And how are you going to proceed?’

Patrik finished chewing before he replied. ‘Martin and I phoned around to collect information all afternoon. On Monday we intend to get to the bottom of this.’

‘Are you off this weekend?’ said Erica, happily surprised. Patrik spent too many weekends working.

‘Yes I am, for once. And the people I have to talk to won’t be available until Monday anyway. So I’m at your disposal this weekend, girls.’ He smiled broadly and Erica couldn’t help smiling back. How quickly time had passed. It felt like only yesterday that they first got together, and yet it seemed like they had always been a couple. Sometimes she forgot that she’d ever had a life without Patrik. And in a few weeks they would be married.

In the living room she heard her daughter prattling. Now that Anna was back on her feet, Erica could enjoy her life again.

Rose-Marie was already sitting at the table when Mellberg arrived, ten minutes late. It had turned out not to be as easy as he’d planned to brush off the trousers he had pressed under the sofa cushions. And a big clump of chewing gum had stuck to the seat; it took all his ingenuity and a very sharp knife to remove it. The fabric was a bit threadbare after applying the knife, but if he pulled down his jacket far enough she probably wouldn’t notice. He took one last glance in the glass of a framed picture to assure himself that everything was in order. Tonight he had taken special care to coil his hair artfully on top of his head. Not a bit of his shiny scalp could be seen. He thought with satisfaction that he carried his age with dignity.

He was again surprised when his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. What was it about this middle-aged and slightly podgy woman that could affect him this way? All he could think of was her eyes. They were the bluest he had ever seen, and they were even more piercing because of the reddish hue of her hair. He stared at her as if entranced, not noticing at first her outstretched hand. Then he recovered and found himself bowing in the old-fashioned way and kissing her hand. For a moment he felt like an idiot and couldn’t conceive where that impulse had come from. But then he saw that his dinner date seemed to appreciate it, and a lovely warm feeling spread through him. He still had the moves, and he knew how to do things with style.

‘How pleasant this is. I’ve never been here before,’ she said softly, as they perused the menu.

‘It’s a first-class establishment, I assure you,’ said Mellberg, puffing himself up as if he were the one who owned the Gestgifveri.

‘Yes, and the ambience is excellent as well.’ Her eyes took in all the delicacies on the menu. Mellberg also studied the offerings, and for a moment he panicked when he saw the prices. But then he met Rose-Marie’s gaze across the top of the menus and the uneasiness in his stomach calmed down. On a night like this, money was no object.

She looked out of the window, up towards the community centre. ‘I hear there are festivities over there tonight.’

‘It’s those reality show people. We’re usually able to avoid such affairs in these parts. Our colleagues in Strömstad normally get all those sorts of event, and they also have to deal with the drunkenness and vandalism that follow.’

‘Are you expecting problems? Can you really take the night off from work?’ Rose-Marie looked concerned.

Mellberg’s sense of pride and self-importance swelled even more. It was nice to feel like a big shot in the company of a beautiful woman. That had happened far too seldom since he was so rudely transferred to Tanumshede. For some reason people had a hard time appreciating his true qualities here.

‘I have two officers assigned to keep an eye on things,’ he said. ‘So we can have a nice dinner and enjoy ourselves in peace and quiet. A good chief knows how to delegate, and I’ll admit to having a real talent for that.’

A smile from Rose-Marie confirmed that she didn’t doubt he was an excellent chief. This was turning out to be a very pleasant evening.

Mellberg looked up towards the community centre again. Then he purged his mind of the whole business. Martin and Hanna could take care of it. There were more enjoyable matters requiring his attention.

Tina did the few voice exercises she knew before she went up on stage. Of course she would just be singing playback; it was enough if she mimed the words with the mike in her hand. But you never knew. Once, in Örebro, the playback CD had suddenly stopped working, and since she hadn’t rehearsed properly, she’d had to croak her way through the song live. She never wanted to be in that position again.

She knew that the others were laughing behind her back. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t bother her. On the other hand she couldn’t do much else but go up on stage and show everybody what she could do. This was her big chance at a singing career. She had wanted to be a singer ever since she was a little girl. So many hours she had stood in front of the mirror miming to pop songs, using the handle of her jump rope or whatever was available as a mike. With her appearance on The Bar she’d finally had a chance to show her stuff. She had gone to an audition for Idol before she tried out for The Bar, but that was an experience that still stung. Those morons on the jury had ripped her to shreds, and the clip was replayed over and over again on TV. She had just stood there with a stupid grin on her face. Then that prat Clabbe told her to clear off home. But the humiliation had continued until, on the verge of tears, she had defiantly told them that everybody else reckoned she had a fine singing voice. Her mamma and pappa used to listen to her with tears in their eyes they were so proud of her. And to think she had been so happy when she had stood there in the queue early that morning and looked about, sure of victory, sure that she’d be one of those chosen. Tina had selected a song she was sure would impress them: ‘Without You’ by her idol, Mariah Carey. She would give it everything she had and blow the jury members away. Then she would start on a whole new life. She had pictured it all so clearly. Celebrity parties and Idol hysteria. Summer tours and videos on MTV. But it had all gone so wrong.

When the producers of The Bar called, it had been like a gift from heaven. It was an opportunity that she didn’t intend to pass up. After a while she managed to figure out what had made her flop on Idol. It was her breasts, of course. The jury had liked her song, but they didn’t want her on the show because they knew she wouldn’t be a hit if she didn’t have the rest of the equipment needed. And for a girl that usually meant big boobs. So as soon as the shooting for The Bar started, she had begun saving up. She saved every öre until she finally had enough to pay for breast enlargement surgery. With the D-cups in place, nothing could stop her. But she drew the line at bleaching her hair. Despite everything she was a smart girl.

Leif hummed as he stepped out of the truck. Usually he just drove the route in the Fjällbacka area, but with so many workers out with the stomach flu it meant that he had to drive more hours and cover a bigger area than normal. But he didn’t mind. He loved his job, and rubbish was rubbish no matter where he collected it. He’d even got used to the smell over the years. There weren’t many smells left that could make him wrinkle his nose. Unfortunately his blunted sense of smell prevented him from being able to notice the fragrance of freshly baked cinnamon buns or the perfume of a beautiful woman, but those were the breaks. He liked going to work, and there weren’t many people who could say that.

He pulled on his big work gloves and pressed one of the buttons on the instrument panel. The green refuse truck began puffing and blowing off air as the hoisting arm was lowered. Usually he could stay in the cab while the arm picked up the bin and dumped the contents directly into the press, but this particular bin wasn’t positioned correctly, so he had to drag it over manually.

Now he stood there watching the truck lift the bin. It was still quite early in the morning, and he yawned. He usually went to bed early, but he’d been taking care of the boys last night, his beloved grandchildren. They’d been allowed to stay up and roughhouse a bit too long, but it was worth it. He exhaled and watched the white cloud of his breath rise upwards. It was damned cold, even though they were a good way into April. But the temperature could still drop rapidly.

Leif looked round the neighbourhood, which consisted mostly of summer houses. Soon it would be brimming with life here. Every rubbish bin would have to be emptied. Bins that were full of shrimp shells and white-wine bottles that people were too lazy to take to the recycling centres. It was the same every year. Every single summer. He yawned again and looked up at the bin in the air just as it rotated and dumped its contents into the truck. He was stunned by what he saw.

Leif pounded the button that stopped the press. Then he took out his mobile.

Patrik heaved a deep sigh. Saturday hadn’t taken the turn he’d expected. He looked around in resignation. Dresses, dresses, dresses. Tulle and rosettes and sequins and the Devil and his aunt. He was sweating a bit and tugged at the collar of the torture suit he was wearing. It was scratchy and tight in odd places, and as hot as a portable sauna.

‘Well?’ said Erica, giving him a critical look. ‘Does it feel good? Does it fit?’ She turned to the woman who owned the shop, who had looked delighted when Erica came in with her future husband in tow. ‘It probably needs some alterations; the trousers look a bit long,’ said Erica, turning to Patrik again.

‘We’ll take care of everything, it’s no problem at all.’ The woman bent down and began sticking pins in the hems.

Patrik grimaced slightly. ‘Is it supposed to be so … tight?’ He tugged at the collar again. It felt like he wasn’t getting any air.

‘The jacket fits perfectly,’ chirped the woman, which was a real feat considering she had two pins sticking out of the corner of her mouth.

‘I just think it feels a bit too snug,’ said Patrik, appealing to Erica for some support.

But no reprieve was forthcoming. She smiled, though to his mind it was more of a devilish grin, and replied, ‘You look stupendous! You want to be as stylish as possible when we get married, don’t you?’

Patrik regarded his wife-to-be thoughtfully. She was exhibiting worrisome tendencies, but maybe a bridal shop affected all women this way. He simply wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. Resigned, he realized that there was only one way to accomplish that. With great effort he forced a smile, directed at no one in particular.

‘You’re right,’ he said, ‘I do think that this is starting to feel very, very good. We’ll take this one!’

Erica clapped her hands in delight. For the thousandth time Patrik wondered what it was about weddings that made women’s eyes sparkle. Naturally he too was looking forward to getting married, but he would have been perfectly happy with a low-key affair. Though he couldn’t deny that the joyful look in Erica’s eyes warmed his heart. In spite of everything, what mattered most in his world was that she was happy. If that meant he had to wear a hot, itchy penguin costume for one day, then he would do it. He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. ‘Do you think Maja is okay?’

Erica laughed. ‘Anna does have two kids of her own, so I think she can handle taking care of Maja.’

‘But now she has three kids to look after. What if she has to run after Adrian or Emma and then Maja slips off and –’

Erica cut him off with a smile. ‘Just stop it. I’ve taken care of all three of them all winter long, and it’s been fine. And besides, Anna said something about Dan popping by. So you have nothing to worry about.’

Patrik relaxed. Erica was right. But he was always afraid that something would happen to his daughter. Maybe it was because of everything he’d seen on the job. He knew only too well what terrible events could strike ordinary people. And what awful things could happen to children. He’d read somewhere that after you had a child it was like living the rest of your life with a loaded pistol at your temple. And there was some truth to that. The fear was always present, lurking. There was danger everywhere. But he was going to try and stop thinking about it. Maja was fine. And he and Erica were having a rare day to themselves.

‘Would you like to have lunch somewhere?’ he suggested after they had paid and thanked the woman. The springtime sun shone down on them and warmed their faces when they stepped out onto the street.

‘What a wonderful idea,’ Erica said happily, taking his arm. They strolled slowly down the shopping street in Uddevalla, looking at the various eating establishments on offer. The choice fell at last on a Thai restaurant on one of the side streets, and they were just about to step into the enticing aroma of curry when Patrik’s phone rang. He looked at the display. Damn, it was the station.

‘Don’t tell me …’ said Erica, shaking her head wearily. From his expression she could tell where the call was coming from.

‘I have to take this,’ he said. ‘But go on inside, I’m sure it’s nothing important.’

Erica muttered sceptically but did as he said. Patrik waited outside, aware of the antipathy in his voice as he answered, ‘Yes, this is Hedström.’ The expression on his face soon turned from annoyance to disbelief.

‘In a rubbish bin?’

‘Is anyone else on the way? Martin? Okay.’

‘I’ll come back straight away. But I’m in Uddevalla, so it’ll be a while. Just give me the address.’ He dug a pen out of his pocket but had no paper, so he wrote the address on the palm of his hand. Then he clicked off and took a deep breath. He wasn’t looking forward to telling Erica that they would have to skip lunch and drive straight home.