by the side of the road. Two techs pulled on gloves in preparation to do their work. ‘She was discovered when Leif here emptied it.’ He pointed to Leif. ‘That’s why she’s in the rubbish truck.’
Mellberg took that as an invitation to climb over the tape to look in the truck. Torbjörn didn’t even try to get him to put elastics on his shoes. It didn’t matter anyway. They’d had to eliminate Mellberg’s traces from crime scene investigations before, so they already had his shoe prints in their files.
‘Holy shit,’ said Mellberg, holding his nose. ‘It stinks.’ He walked off, apparently more concerned about the smell of rubbish than the sight of the girl’s body. Patrik sighed to himself. He could always count on Mellberg to behave inappropriately and with no sensitivity.
‘Anyone know who she is?’ Mellberg asked.
Patrik shook his head. ‘No, so far we don’t know anything. I thought I’d ring Hanna and ask her to check whether any reports came in yesterday about a girl who hadn’t come home. And Martin is on his way, so I thought he and I could start knocking on the doors of the few houses here that are occupied.’
Mellberg nodded sullenly. ‘Good thinking. That was precisely what I was about to suggest.’
Patrik and Torbjörn exchanged a look. Mellberg invariably appropriated everyone else’s ideas, seldom having any of his own.
‘So, where’s Molin then?’ Mellberg said, looking round grumpily.
‘He should be here any minute,’ said Patrik.
As if on cue, Martin’s car appeared. It was beginning to be hard to find a parking place along the narrow gravel road, so he had to back up a bit before he found a spot. His red hair stood on end as he walked towards them, and he looked tired. His face was creased, as if he’d just got out of bed.
‘A girl was dead in that bin, now she’s in the rubbish truck,’ said Patrik to sum up.
Martin merely nodded. He made no move to walk over and have a look. His stomach had a tendency to turn inside out at the sight of dead bodies.
‘Weren’t you and Hanna working last night?’ Patrik asked.
Martin nodded. ‘Yes, we were keeping an eye on the party at the community centre. And a good thing we did. All hell broke loose, and I didn’t get home until four.’
‘What happened?’ said Patrik with a frown.
‘Mostly just the usual. A couple of guys got pissed out of their minds, a squabble with a jealous boyfriend, two kids fighting drunk. But that was nothing compared to the melee that erupted among the cast. Hanna and I had to break it up a couple of times.’
‘I see,’ said Patrik, pricking up his ears. ‘Why? What was it about?’
‘Apparently they were all mad at one of the girls in the group. The one with the big silicone breasts. She got a couple of real wallops before we managed to put a stop to it.’ Martin rubbed his eyes wearily.
A thought occurred to Patrik. ‘Martin, could you please go take a look at the girl in the truck?’
Martin grimaced. ‘Is that necessary? You know how I –’ He broke off and nodded, resigned. ‘Of course I will, but why?’
‘Just do it,’ said Patrik, who didn’t want to let on what he was thinking. ‘I’ll explain afterwards.’
‘Okay,’ said Martin with a hangdog expression. He took the slip-on covers Patrik handed him and fastened them around his shoes. He stepped over the tape, his shoulders drooping, and took a couple of hesitant steps towards the rear of the truck. After one last deep breath, he looked down and then turned quickly to Patrik with an astonished look. ‘But that’s …’
Patrik nodded. ‘The girl from Sodding Tanum. Yes, I realized it the minute you started talking about her. And it looks like she took quite a beating.’
Martin backed cautiously away from the rubbish truck. His face was chalk-white and Patrik saw that he was fighting to keep his breakfast down. After a few moments he had to admit defeat and ran for a nearby bush.
Patrik went over to Mellberg, who was talking animatedly with Torbjörn Ruud and waving his arms about. Patrik interrupted them. ‘We have an ID of the victim. It’s one of the girls from that reality show. They had a dance last night at the community centre, and according to Martin there was a fracas involving the girl here.’
‘A fracas?’ said Mellberg with a frown. ‘Are you saying she was beaten to death?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Patrik with a hint of annoyance in his voice. Sometimes he just couldn’t stand Mellberg’s stupid questions. ‘Only the ME can make a pronouncement on the cause of death after performing an autopsy.’ Which I shouldn’t have to explain to you, Patrik thought. ‘But let’s have a chat with the rest of the cast. And see about getting access to all the videotapes from last night. For once we may have a reliable witness.’
‘Yes, I was just going to say that it’s possible the cameras may have picked up something useful,’ said Mellberg. Patrik counted to ten. He’d been playing this game for years now, and his patience was running out.
‘Then this is what we’ll do,’ he said with forced calm. ‘I’ll call in Hanna as well, so that we can hear what observations she made last night. We should also talk to the producers of Sodding Tanum, and then it might be an idea to inform the town council. I’m sure that everyone agrees that this TV shoot will have to be cancelled at once.’
‘Why?’ said Mellberg, giving Patrik an astonished look.
Patrik was gobsmacked. ‘It’s obvious! One of the cast has been murdered! There’s no way they can keep shooting now!’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ said Mellberg. ‘And if I know Erling, he’s going to do everything in his power to ensure that they keep filming. He’s invested a lot of prestige in this project.’
For an instant Patrik had an icy feeling that for once Mellberg might be right. But he still had a hard time believing it. People couldn’t be that cynical, could they?
Hanna and Lars sat in silence at the dining-room table, looking as listless and exhausted as they felt. Everything hovering in the air between them also contributed to their torpor. There was so much that needed to be said. But as usual neither of them spoke. Hanna felt the familiar unease in her stomach, and it made the egg she was eating taste like cardboard. She forced herself to chew and swallow, chew and swallow.
‘Lars,’ she began but regretted it at once. His name sounded so desolate and foreign when it punctured the silence. She swallowed and made another attempt. ‘Lars, we have to talk. We can’t let it go on like this.’
He didn’t look at her. All his concentration was devoted to buttering his bread. Fascinated, she watched the way he moved the butter knife back and forth, back and forth, until the butter was evenly distributed over the slice of bread. There was something hypnotic about the movement, and she flinched when he stuck the knife back in the butter tub. She tried again.
‘Lars, please talk to me. Just talk to me. We can’t go on like this.’ She could hear how desperate she sounded. But she felt as if she were sitting on a train that
