had first imagined on the way from Mrs Petrén’s house. He simply couldn’t resist calling Erica since she was so close. But he was beginning to regret the whole thing as soon as she answered the phone. She sounded so busy, even irritated when he rang. Oh well, it was too late to worry about that now. The chime of the doorbell echoed for the second time through the house.
He could hear someone coming down the stairs. The footsteps paused for a moment before they continued the rest of the way to the door. The door opened and there she stood with a big smile. She took his breath away. He couldn’t understand how she always managed to look so fresh. Her face was bare of any make-up, with the natural beauty that he found most attractive in a woman. Karin had never dreamed of showing her face without make-up, but Erica looked so amazing in his eyes that he couldn’t imagine anything that could possibly improve her appearance.
The house looked exactly the same as always, the way he remembered it from his visits as a child. Here the furniture and the house had been allowed to age together with dignity. Wood and white paint predominated, with light-coloured fabrics in blue and white that harmonized with the ageing patina of the furniture. She had lighted candles to drive away the winter darkness. The whole place breathed calm and tranquillity. He followed Erica out to the kitchen.
‘Would you like some coffee?’
‘Yes, please. Oh, and I brought these.’ Patrik handed over the bag of pastries. ‘Although I should really take some back to the station. I’m sure there’s enough for everybody, and then some.’
Erica peeked into the plastic bag. She smiled. ‘I see you’ve been visiting Mrs Petrén.’
‘Yep. And I’m so full I can hardly move.’
‘A charming old lady, don’t you think?’
‘Incredible. If I were around ninety-two I’d marry her.’
They smiled at each other.
‘So, how are you doing?’
‘Fine, thanks.’
A moment of silence made them both squirm. Erica poured coffee into two cups and then poured the rest into a table thermos.
‘Let’s sit on the veranda.’
They took their first sips and the silence no longer felt uncomfortable, but rather pleasant. Erica sat on the wicker sofa across from him. He cleared his throat.
‘How’s it going with the book?’
‘Good, thanks. And what about you? How’s the investigation going?’
Patrik thought for a moment and decided to tell her a little more than he actually should. Erica was already involved anyway, and he couldn’t see that it would hurt any.
‘It looks like we’ve probably solved it. We actually have a suspect in custody. He’s being interrogated right now, and the evidence is as watertight as it could possibly be.’
Erica leaned forward with an inquisitive expression. ‘Who is it?’
Patrik hesitated a moment. ‘Anders Nilsson.’
‘So it was Anders after all. Strange, but that doesn’t feel quite right.’
Patrik was inclined to agree with her. There were simply too many loose ends that couldn’t be tied up by Anders’s arrest. But the physical evidence from the murder scene and the testimony of witnesses – that he was in the house not only just before the time Alex was presumably murdered, but also on a number of other occasions after she was killed – didn’t leave much room for doubt. And yet …
‘Well, I suppose it’s over then. Funny, I thought I’d feel more relieved. What about the article I found? The one about Nils’s disappearance, I mean. How does that fit into the picture if Anders is the killer?’
Patrik shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands, palms up.
‘I just don’t know, Erica. I don’t know. Maybe it had nothing to do with the murder. Pure coincidence. In any case there’s no reason to rummage through everything anymore. Alex took her secrets with her to the grave.’
‘And the baby she was expecting? Was it Anders’s?’
‘Who knows? Anders’s, Henrik’s … Your guess is as good as mine. I really wonder what got those two together. Talk about odd couples. It’s true that there’s nothing unusual about people having someone on the side, but Alexandra Wijkner and Anders Nilsson? I mean, I find it hard to believe that he could get anyone in bed, and Alexandra Wijkner was … well, cute as hell is the only thing I can think of to describe her.’
For a moment Patrik thought he saw a furrow form between Erica’s eyebrows, but the next second it was gone and she was her usual polite, agreeable self. At least he imagined as much. She was just opening her mouth to say something when the theme song from an ice-cream advert was heard from the hall. Both Patrik and Erica gave a start.
‘It’s my mobile,’ Patrik said. ‘Excuse me for a moment.’
He rushed out to the hall to take the call, and after rummaging in his jacket pocket he took out his mobile.
‘Patrik Hedström.
‘Hmm … okay … I get it … Well, then we’re back at square one again. Yeah, I know. Oh, so he said that? Well, you couldn’t have known about that. Okay, Superintendent, see you later.’ He flipped his phone closed with a decisive click and went back to Erica.
‘Throw on a jacket and let’s take a ride.’
‘Where to?’ Erica gave him a quizzical look with the coffee cup halfway to her mouth.
‘There’s new information about Anders’s involvement. It looks like we have to cross him off the suspect list.’
‘Really? But where are we going?’
‘Both you and I could feel that there was something wrong about this. You found the article about Nils’s disappearance at Alex’s house, and there may be more things to find there.’
‘But didn’t the police already go through the house?’
‘Sure, but I’m not sure we were looking for the right things. I just want to test an idea I have. Come on.’
Patrik was already halfway out the door. Erica had to throw on her jacket and run after him.
The house looked small and dilapidated. It was beyond her comprehension that people could live like this. That anyone could endure such a dreary and grey existence, so – impoverished. But that was the way of the world. Some were rich and some were poor. Nelly thanked her lucky stars that she belonged to the former category and not the latter. It wasn’t in her nature to be poor. A woman like her was made for furs and diamonds.
The woman who opened the door had probably never even seen a real diamond. Everything about her was grey and brown. Nelly viewed with disgust Vera’s shabby cardigan and the chapped hands holding it closed over her breast. Vera said nothing, just stood in the doorway.
After nervously looking around, Nelly finally had to say, ‘Well, are you going to invite
