hasn't had any dinner, either. I'll call you from the ER. Bye.'
Before Johan had time to react, Emma, Olle, and Filip had disappeared down the gravel path. He stood there at a loss, staring after them as the car roared off.
Consequently, the night turned out a lot different than he had expected. Instead of enjoying a dinner with a bottle of good wine and having a romantic evening with Emma, he was left alone with the children for the first time. There's no problem with Elin, but what the hell am I going to talk about with an eight-year-old? he thought a bit desperately as his stomach churned with hunger. He put Elin in the baby buggy, which stood in the hallway, and she promptly started to howl.
'Just for a little while, sweetie,' he assured her as he felt the first signs of a headache. In the fridge he found a plastic bag with something he guessed was marinated chicken breasts, but he had no idea what to do with them. There wasn't much else. The same thing with the freezer. What were they going to eat? They had to have food. He took out a little plastic package containing breast milk and put it in the microwave to thaw it out. He called Sara but got no response, so he picked up Elin and started walking through the house to look for her. Johan had met Sara and Filip several times for brief periods, but Emma had always been present. Right now he felt awkward and unprepared, and the fact that Elin was bawling nonstop didn't make the situation or his headache any better. To top it all off, the puppy kept leaping around his feet. Johan was terrified that he might trip over the dog and drop Elin on the floor. At the moment his brain had stopped functioning. He couldn't for the life of him remember the name of the dog.
Finally he found Sara under the table in the living room.
She didn't notice that he had found her, and for several seconds he didn't know what to do. Then he leaned down so that he was almost lying under the table with Elin in his arms. The dog was so delighted that he could hardly restrain his joy. He eagerly licked Johan and Elin all over. Elin started howling again.
'Hi,' Johan said to Sara, who made a big show of covering her ears.
What a great start. After a long workday, he didn't have even a drop of energy to deal with a screaming baby, a hysterical puppy, and a recalcitrant eight-year-old-and all on an empty stomach. He was the type of person who couldn't wait too long to eat. If he did, his blood sugar would drop drastically, and he would be in a terrible mood.
But he now realized that he would have to put himself and his own needs last. He tried asking Sara whether there was a pizzeria in Roma. She just kept her hands pressed over her ears. Then he put the screaming Elin on Sara's lap and let go. Instinctively she took down her hands to hold the baby.
'Hi there. I'm hungry,' said Johan. 'I was thinking of ordering a pizza. Would you like some?'
She didn't answer.
'You're so good at holding Elin,' he said. 'Do you like having a little sister?'
She gave him a suspicious look but didn't say a word.
Johan started to stand up.
'Well, I'm going to call and order one, at any rate. I want one of those luscious calzones with a big Coke. What do you like? Capricciosa, with ham and mushrooms?'
'No,' replied Sara. 'Hawaii, the one with pineapple.'
'So that's what I'll order for you. Could you hold Elin while I make the call?'
'Okay.'
Sara was looking a little happier.
'Then we can take the baby buggy and go get the pizzas,' said Johan. 'Do you think you could push the buggy?'
'Sure, I can do that.'
'Good. Then we'll take the dog along so he can have his walk.'
'Her walk. It's a girl dog. Her name is Ester.'
'What a cute name,' lied Johan. 'I can take Elin now. I'll just change her diapers and give her a little milk before we go. Could you set the table in the meantime? I don't know where you keep your plates and things like that. I'm just here as a visitor. Should we watch TV while we eat?'
'Okay.' Sara's face lit up. 'Mamma never lets us do that,' she said. 'Pappa doesn't, either.'
'Well, I think we can make an exception today,' said Johan. 'Now that it's just you and me and Elin.'
'And Ester.'
'Right. And Ester. Has she had her dinner yet?'
'Yes, Mamma fed her before she left.'
'That's good. At least one of us has a full stomach.'
Except for a faint murmuring from the TV, the house was quiet when Emma came through the door two hours later. At first she was alarmed, but the feeling passed when she peeked into the living room. Johan was sitting on the wide sectional sofa, leaning back and snoring with his mouth open. In his arms sprawled Sara and Ester, sound asleep. Elin was asleep in the crib, which Johan had rolled into place right next to him.
SATURDAY, JULY 31
Knutas had promised to go out to the country on Saturday, but by lunchtime he could already tell that he didn't have the peace of mind to drive off and just do nothing. So far the lead with the hotel project hadn't panned out. Both Jacobsson and Wittberg were going to spend the weekend doing some more digging; they had volunteered to work. Knutas realized that he needed to do the same. He called Lina to explain. Her parents were visiting from Denmark, so they still had a full house. She assured him that they would manage fine without him.
He put on another pot of coffee and petted the cat while he waited for the coffee to finish brewing. He eyed the yellowing lawn with displeasure, thinking that he needed to water it that evening. In terms of the Martina Flochten case, it felt as if they still hadn't made much progress. He was going to talk to Gunnar Ambjornsson as soon as he arrived home from his trip on the following day. Knutas decided to put aside any consideration of possible connections and just concentrate on Staffan Mellgren. If his wife wasn't the killer, then maybe his relationship with Martina didn't have anything to do with the murders. The police might have gotten too fixated on that particular lead. He decided to completely ignore Mellgren's love affairs as he reconsidered the case.
What else was there in Mellgren's life that might make someone want to kill him? He needed to find out more about the man. He tried calling Mellgren's wife at various phone numbers but didn't manage to get hold of her. She probably wanted to be left in peace after all the upheaval. He would try to phone her again later. Instead he tried calling the college, but no one was there to answer on a Saturday. Knutas leafed through his notes about the excavation leader and found the phone number for Aron Bjarke. Maybe he knew something more. He'd been well aware of Mellgren's love life, after all, and he seemed quite candid and talkative.
It turned out that Bjarke was at home. He lived downtown on Skogrand, inside the city walls, and they agreed to meet there.
'I'll put on some coffee. We can sit outside in the garden,' said Bjarke, as if he were planning a social event.
Knutas decided to walk. A fresh breeze was blowing, so it wasn't unbearably hot. He left his jacket at home. He walked through the South Gate and continued along Adelsgatan. It was only a few minutes past ten, and most of the shops had just opened. For the time being the town was deserted. He crossed Stora Torget, where the stall owners were setting out their wares, getting ready for the day's transactions. The contrast with the nearby ruins of St. Karin's Church from the thirteenth century was quite striking.
Aron Bjarke's house was small. Shims had been installed to make the door align properly. The windows were so low that it was only a few inches from the windowsill to the street, where roses had been planted outside the house. The archaeology teacher was apparently a gardener.
Bjarke opened the door after the first knock; there was no doorbell. Knutas had to stoop as he stepped inside in order not to bump his head. The ceiling was low and the interior quite drab.
On his way out to the garden in back of the house, Knutas cast an inquisitive glance at the kitchen. It was bright and old-fashioned, with white wooden cabinets, a small drop-leaf table, and blue-and-white — checked
