The restaurant had survived. Which was the most astounding thing. The lifespan of trendy, self-conscious cafes was normally short and the cycle was often the same: the place opened, the place was discovered, then the place was abandoned.
As a rule, the entrepreneur, intoxicated by the invasion, became ambitious and invested large sums in the hope of keeping his customers, but they swam in shoals that suddenly changed direction and disappeared without warning.
There were three reasons why Bill Akerman’s restaurant had survived. The first was that he had decided to stick with high-quality food and prices that bordered on indecent, despite an unexpected glowing write-up in the local paper. This made the restaurant an obvious choice for company dinners and people who didn’t often go out but wanted to treat themselves once a year.
The second was its location. The restaurant was on the ground floor of an old villa just above Margaretaplatsen and had a panoramic view of the sound and the coast of Denmark.
The third reason was Bill’s wife, Sofia.
Sofia managed the restaurant, employed people, came up with new menus, organised purchases and made sure that everyone was happy.
Bill knew that he couldn’t have chosen a better partner. It was just a shame that she’d put on some extra pounds around the hips and, as a result, her self-confidence had plummeted and she had grown suspicious of his every move. But as she already knew about his affair with Ylva – and, like everyone else in Helsingborg, knew that Ylva was missing – Bill made no attempt to hide the fact that the police wanted to talk to him, as it actually reinforced the idea that Ylva was a cunning seductress who would leave any full-blooded man defenceless. Bill had already told them on the phone that he had no idea where Ylva was and had made it quite clear that he was no longer on intimate terms with her. But the police had insisted on speaking to him in person, all the same.
The meeting took place in the restaurant bar, which was empty despite the lunchtime rush.
‘When did you last see Ylva?’ Karlsson asked, having accepted a free coffee.
‘Do you mean when did I last sleep with her or when did I last see her?’
‘See her. And yes, sleep with her, too.’
‘We had a brief affair in June last year. So that makes it, what, eleven months ago? The last time I saw her was on Kullagatan. I think it was in April, but I’m not entirely sure.’
‘Did you talk to each other?’
‘Yes. It was a bit awkward.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘It’s not a big town, and there’s always someone who’s watching.’
‘I see. And what did you say to each other?’
‘Nothing in particular. She asked when we could start shagging again.’
That made Karlsson and Gerda sit up, they weren’t sure whether he was kidding or not.
‘That’s what she said,’ Bill assured them. ‘And I told her: never.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I don’t want to. But I didn’t say that. Spurn a woman, and you’ve got an enemy for life. You have to play it careful.’
‘So what did you say?’
‘I said that I didn’t want to risk my marriage.’
‘But that wasn’t the real reason?’
‘No.’
‘So, why didn’t you want to?’
Bill looked at them, shrugged.
‘We like different things.’
The police officers were wide-eyed with dry throats, like two adolescent boys. Karlsson pulled himself together first.
‘What do you mean, “different things”?’ he spluttered, leaning forward with interest.
‘She liked drama. She’d throw herself down, going,
‘I don’t understand.’
‘She wanted to be dominated.’
‘You mean, tied up?’ Karlsson asked, with the peeping-tom interest of a secret teenage masturbator.
‘Not necessarily. But I don’t think it’s got anything to do with her disappearance. I’m just saying that she liked a bit of rough. Even though she looks so sweet. But that’s sex for you. What’s on the inside doesn’t always match what’s on the outside. Swings and roundabouts. The tough guy can be a gentle lover, skinny ones have more to prove.’
‘What do you mean?’ Gerda asked.
Bill Akerman took a sip of coffee.
‘She should have chosen a skinnier guy,’ he said.
Karlsson threw the papers nonchalantly down on to the desk, pushed back his chair and stretched his legs.
‘Okay,’ he said and clasped his hands behind his neck. ‘We’ve got a missing, horny away-player and a husband who’s been cheated on. Conclusion?’
‘She comes home late, it gets out of hand?’ Gerda suggested.
‘Yep,’ Karlsson said and sighed. ‘We’d better talk to the neighbours. They might have seen when she came home.’
‘In the middle of the night?’
‘Someone’s always awake.’
‘I thought we could talk to the girl,’ Gerda said, and checked the time. ‘She should be at school right now.’
‘If we’re lucky.’ Karlsson nodded.
They parked behind the cafeteria and asked a passing pupil where the staffroom was. They were greeted by a large woman who had once been attractive and now tried to hide the fact that she wasn’t any more. Karlsson and Gerda explained why they were there, and the woman knew immediately what it was about. Like the rest of the school staff, for the past couple of days she had talked of nothing but Ylva’s disappearance. She asked Karlsson and Gerda to wait in the staffroom and went herself to fetch Sanna from her class.
When the woman came back, she was holding the girl’s hand, apparently oblivious that the police could see how she cared for the children. The woman introduced Sanna to the policemen and said that they wanted to talk to her, maybe ask a few questions.
‘It’s nothing to be scared of,’ she assured her, in her kindest child-friendly voice, and then turned to Karlsson and Gerda. ‘Maybe it would be just as well if I stay?’
Karlsson nodded his consent and the woman sat down on the chair beside Sanna, without letting go of her hand.
‘We’ve been talking to your dad,’ Karlsson said, in the same voice that he always used, no matter who he was talking to. ‘And he said that your mum’s missing. Do you remember when you saw her last?’
Sanna nodded.
‘When was that then?’
Sanna shrugged. Gerda gave it a try. He spoke in a softer voice than his colleague.
‘Do you remember when you last saw your mummy?’
‘Yes,’ Sanna said.
‘And where was that?’
‘At school, here.’
The woman filled them in. ‘Ylva dropped Sanna off at school on Friday morning. She spoke to the teachers. Mike was going to pick her up.’
Gerda gave a thoughtful nod and turned to Sanna again.
‘And you haven’t seen your mummy since then?’
