look of pleasure on his face. ‘My eldest grandchild imports it to Sweden. It’s made from coffee beans eaten by civet cats. The civets poop out the beans, which are then gathered, washed, and roasted. It’s not cheap. Usually costs about six hundred kronor per cup, but as I said, Julius imports the coffee, so he gets it for a better price, and sometimes he gives me some. He knows I love it. You’ll never taste better coffee.’
Martin looked at the coffee aghast, but then shrugged and took another sip. He didn’t care where it came from when it tasted so divine. He hesitated for a moment but decided it was time to move on from the small talk.
‘I don’t know whether you’ve heard the news,’ he said, leaning forward. ‘But a little girl was found murdered up here in the woods.’
‘I heard. My daughter came by and told me,’ said Dagmar, her expression darkening. ‘That sweet little blonde girl who was always running around like a tornado. I still go out for a long walk every day, and I often go past the Berg farm. I’d often see her out in the yard.’
‘When did you last see her?’ asked Martin, taking another sip of coffee.
‘Hmm … when was it?’ said Dagmar, looking pensive. ‘Not yesterday, but the day before, I think. On Sunday.’
‘What time of day?’ asked Paula.
‘I always take my walk in the morning before it gets too hot. She was out in the yard, playing. I waved to her as I walked past, like I always do, and she waved back.’
‘So that was Sunday morning?’ said Martin. ‘But not since then?’
Dagmar shook her head.
‘No. I didn’t see her yesterday.’
‘Did you happen to see anything that struck you as unusual? The smallest detail could be important. So even if something seems trivial to you, better to tell us and we’ll decide whether it’s significant or not.’
Martin drank the rest of his coffee. He felt so clumsy holding the fragile little cup in his hand. He set it carefully down on the saucer.
‘No, I can’t say I recall anything that would be of interest. I have a good view out the kitchen window when I’m sitting here, but I don’t remember seeing anything special.’
‘If you happen to think of something later on, don’t hesitate to phone us,’ said Paula, getting up after casting an enquiring glance at Martin, who nodded.
She put her business card on the table and pushed in her chair.
‘Thanks for the coffee,’ said Martin. ‘It was excellent and also … an experience.’
‘Precisely the way things in life should be,’ replied Dagmar with a smile.
He glanced again at the photo of the beautiful young athlete and saw the same glint in her eye as in the eyes of ninety-one-year-old Dagmar. He recognized that glint. Pia had had it too: joie de vivre.
With great care he closed the lovely old front door behind him.
Mellberg stretched as he sat at the head of the conference table. An impressive group of reporters had gathered. Not only from the local papers, but from the national media as well.
‘Is it the same perpetrator?’ asked Kjell from Bohusläningen.
Patrik was keeping a close eye on Mellberg. He would have preferred to take over, but Mellberg had put his foot down. A press conference was his moment in the spotlight, and he wasn’t about to give up the opportunity. This was in stark contrast to his readiness to step aside when it came to anything that resembled hard work.
‘We can’t rule out the possibility of a link to the Stella case, but we’re not going to get locked into any one theory,’ said Mellberg.
‘But surely it’s not a coincidence,’ Kjell insisted.
His dark beard now had a few streaks of grey.
‘As I said, we will of course investigate every angle, but when something seems too obvious, there’s a risk we might not look into other possibilities.’
Good answer, Mellberg, thought Patrik with surprise. Maybe he’d actually learned a few things along the way.
‘Though clearly it does seem a strange coincidence that the film star should come back here right before this happens,’ said Mellberg. All the reporters began feverishly taking notes.
Patrik had to clench his fists to stop himself from slapping his forehead. He could already guess what the evening headlines would be.
‘So, are you planning to question Marie and Helen?’ asked a hack from one of the evening papers.
The younger reporters were always the most persistent. Hungry to establish themselves at the paper and prepared to do whatever it took to make their name.
‘Yes, we plan to talk to them,’ Mellberg confirmed. It was obvious he was enjoying all the attention.
He gladly turned his face towards the cameras aimed at him, reaching up to make sure his comb-over was in place.
‘So are they your prime suspects?’ asked a young female reporter from the other big evening paper.
‘Well, I mean … No, I wouldn’t exactly say that …’
Mellberg scratched his head and seemed to realize he might have turned the conversation in the wrong direction. He looked at Patrik, who cleared his throat and said:
‘We have no suspects at this stage of the investigation. As Bertil Mellberg said, we’re not ruling anything out yet. We’re waiting for the technical report, and we’re carrying out interviews on a broad front, talking to people who might provide information regarding the time period when Nea disappeared.’
‘So you think it’s merely coincidence that a girl from the same farm disappears and is found dead in the same place as Stella, during the same week when one of the individuals convicted in the Stella case comes back here for the first time in thirty years?’
‘The most obvious connections are not always the most significant,’ he replied to the follow-up question. ‘So it would not be wise for us to get locked into one theory right now. As Mellberg has already pointed out.’
Kjell from Bohusläningen raised his hand to indicate he had another question.
‘How did the girl die?’
Mellberg leaned forward.
‘As Patrik Hedström mentioned, we haven’t yet received the technical report, and the post-mortem hasn’t been done. So at this time we can’t address that question.’
‘Is there a risk other children might be murdered?’ Kjell went on. ‘Should parents in the area keep their children inside? As you might expect, rumours have been spreading, and people are scared.’
Mellberg paused before answering. Patrik discreetly shook his head, hoping his boss would get the message. There was no reason to frighten the local population.
‘At
