“Oh, here you are!”
Aneta nodded.
“We must have passed each other,” said Sigge Lindsten.
“You called, but you weren’t there when I arrived,” said Aneta.
“No, that’s how it goes,” said Lindsten, perhaps by way of apology.
“Did Anette come down with you?” asked Aneta.
“No.”
“You said earlier that she was here, but she’s not.”
“Yes, I did say that, yes. In the end she decided to stay home.”
“Home? Home in the house in Gothenburg?”
“That’s her home now.”
“I would like to talk to her,” said Aneta.
“Let her decide for herself,” said Lindsten.
“That’s why I would at least like to contact her.”
“You can try to call,” said Lindsten.
Aneta saw that his wife was trying to say something again, but she stopped and began to walk away, out toward the hall. Her husband nodded toward her. Neither of them said anything.
It’s some kind of act.
“I don’t think we’ll have any more problems now,” said Lindsten.
“You can file a report,” said Aneta.
“It’s not necessary.”
“We can do a crime-scene investigation,” said Aneta.
“Where?”
Preferably not in the house in Fredriksdal, she thought. That would mean that another crime had been committed.
“In the apartment in Kortedala,” she said.
“There’s not really anything to investigate there. Not anymore.”
“I got the impression before that you wanted to cooperate on this,” said Aneta.
“I don’t think we’ll have any more problems now,” repeated Sigge Lindsten.
Moa Ringmar dropped one boot in the hall, and then one more. Her father got bread and butter and cheese out of the fridge, smoked sausage, cucumber.
“It’s possible to arrange boots nicely,” he said.
“Come on, Dad.”
“When you hear the sound of one boot fall on the floor, there’s no peace until you hear the other one too,” he said.
“Well then, you got your peace right away just now,” she said.
“I was thinking more of when you’re sitting in a hotel room and you can hear the people in the room above,” he said.
“And how often does that happen?”
“As yet it hasn’t happened,” he said.
She laughed and asked if he’d been home for long. She cut a slice of cheese and put it in her mouth.
“I’ve been home long enough to have time to admire our neighbor’s yard art,” he said.
“You have to let it go, Dad.”
“He’s alive, isn’t he?”
She sat down.
“I may have found an apartment.”
“Hallelujah.”
“I knew you’d be sad.”
“Yes. But I’m thinking of your happiness.”
“It’s serious when kids live at home when they’re twenty-five,” said Moa.
“It’s only been temporary,” said Ringmar. “We actually wrote you off four years ago.”
“Good thing Mom can’t hear this.”
“You’re not bugged?” said Ringmar.
“Do you do that at work?”
“No,” Ringmar lied. “It’s illegal.”
“Are you telling the truth?”
“Yes,” Ringmar lied. He spooned the tea leaves into the filter of the teapot and poured in the water and placed the pot on the table. “What apartment?”
“Two and a half rooms. Really nice but maybe not the best location.”
“What is the best location?”
“I would say… Vasastan.”
“Vasastan? That’s where the worst and loudest crowds are on the weekends. And all summer. Hell, no.”
“Erik lives there. Has he complained about loud crowds outside?”
“Only every day.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Erik Winter lives so high up among the clouds that he isn’t bothered by the damage below,” said Ringmar.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” said Moa. “Up in the clouds, the seventh floor.”
“Where is this apartment, then?”
“Kortedala.”
“Kortedala!”
“Better than Vasastan, isn’t it?”
“I’m speechless,” said Ringmar.
“You don’t have to say more than hallelujah,” said Moa.
“Kortedala,” repeated Ringmar, shaking his head.
“I’m not moving to the South Bronx or anything.”
“Martin was on his way to the Bronx,” said Ringmar.
“But he went with the Lower East Side.”
Ringmar nodded.
“Which used to be the worst neighborhood in Manhattan,” said Moa.
“Used to be, sure. Now only designers live there.”
“Like his neighbor?”
“I could sponsor a move for him,” said Ringmar.
“Maybe you could sponsor mine,” said Moa.
“Are you serious about this Kortedala thing, Moa?”
“Do you know how hard it is to find an apartment in Gothenburg? Do you know how long I’ve tried?”
“The answer to both questions is yes.”
“Then you’ve also answered your own.”
“Where is this nest? Kortedala is pretty big.”
She told him the address. It didn’t mean anything to him.
“How did you get wind of it?” asked Ringmar.
“Some girl in my class knew someone. I guess there was a guest lecturer who talked about how there might be something free and I got a phone number from this classmate and called, and, well, I might be able to rent it.”
“Secondhand?”
“I don’t actually know. Maybe at first. It was a little vague, I think. He sounded a little surprised when I called. They hadn’t taken out an ad or anything. Like I said, a little vague.”
“Doesn’t sound too promising.”
“Come on. It was a nice old guy who answered. His daughter’s the one who moved out of there. At least for now.”
