happened. I tried to call Morgan, but he didn’t answer. Then came the explosion.’
Kjell Johansson fell silent as he looked down at his callused hands.
‘What can you tell us about the person you saw?’
‘I only caught a glimpse of him, but he was wearing a lot of clothes, considering the heat. I think he had on dark trousers and a dark, baggy shirt.’
With a solemn expression, Knutas stared at the man seated across the table.
‘What you’re telling us is extremely important. You’ve actually seen the killer with your own eyes. Try to remember as much as possible about how he looked. Even the smallest detail is important.’
‘Take your time,’ Jacobsson added. ‘Think carefully.’
‘I only saw him for a few seconds, and from far away. He came out of Morgan’s shed right after the explosion. He moved in a rather strange way, sort of awkwardly. Maybe he had a slight limp. He was shorter than Morgan, who I think was about six feet tall. The other person was at least four inches shorter. I’m positive about that.’
‘That means that the person you saw was about 5 foot 8?’
‘Yeah, I think so.’
‘Anything else?’
‘No. It all happened so fast.’
‘What were they doing?’
‘I think they were talking to each other. Since Morgan didn’t answer his radio, I kept my binoculars trained on the shed. When the explosion was detonated, the whole shed disappeared in a cloud of dust, but then the person came out and headed for the woods.’
‘Then what?’
‘Nothing after that. I was worried about Morgan, so we drove right over there.’
‘And by then the other person was gone?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know whether Morgan knew Peter Bovide, the carpenter who was shot to death a couple of weeks ago?’ asked Jacobsson.
Kjell Johansson’s face clouded over.
‘I don’t think so, but I noticed that he acted kind of strange whenever anyone else at work started talking about the murder on Faro.’
‘Strange in what way?’
‘Well, everybody was talking about it, of course. Peter Bovide lived in Slite, after all, and his company has done a lot of work for the factory; for instance, they remodelled the barracks. Morgan was the only one who never commented on the murder. At first, I didn’t think anything about it, but after a few days I noticed that he would get real quiet and move away every time the murder came up in conversation. And so I asked him whether he knew Bovide.’
Jacobsson leaned forward.
‘And?’
‘He denied it and asked me why I thought he might. He looked really worried, as if the mere question made him nervous.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing, really. I could tell that it was a sensitive subject, for some reason, so I dropped it. And now Morgan has been killed too. Damn it to hell.’
Johansson sounded despondent.
‘Is there anything else you can tell us about Morgan?’ asked Knutas. ‘Anything you reacted to or thought was strange? Any new person he may have met?’
The foreman rubbed his eyes and looked up at both officers.
‘Actually, there is one thing.’
‘What is it?’
‘He seemed really insistent about going out to Gotska Sandon.’
‘Gotska Sandon?’
‘Yes. He was there this past weekend. He used to go out there occasionally, even though he wasn’t exactly the nature type. In fact, he detested anything having to do with hikes through the woods or other outdoor activities. Whenever we had any sort of excursions here at work, he never participated. Morgan preferred to sit inside and drink beer while he watched sports on TV. That was how he relaxed. But he did go out to Gotska Sandon. Last weekend, he booked a trip out there, and even though we were really short-handed here at work because several people called in sick, he wouldn’t postpone his trip. I know that the boss offered him various incentives to try and persuade him to stay and work, but he refused. He needed to go out there right away, and he couldn’t delay it a week.’
‘What was he going to do on Gotska Sandon?’ asked Jacobsson.
‘I have no idea. I only know that sometimes he went out there. He’s been there several times before.’
‘Did he go alone?’
‘Yes, I think so. He was a real loner. Didn’t have any family or girlfriend. He lived alone, and I think he did almost everything by himself.’
‘When exactly did he go out there?’
‘He left on Friday and came home last night.’
‘So that was the last thing he did? Visit Gotska Sandon? And he’d been there before?’
‘Yes, a least a few times.’
‘Do you know where exactly he went?’
‘I have no idea. I’ve never thought much about those trips before, but this time it was obvious that nothing could make him change his travel plans, so there must have been something really special about that trip. I asked him what could be so damn important to make him leave his workmates in the lurch, and then he got real mad and started shouting that it was none of my business. I was really surprised that he overreacted like that.’
‘We need to look into this,’ Knutas decided. ‘Right away.’
He cast a glance at Jacobsson.
‘OK, don’t worry, I’ll do it. I can leave now.’
JOHAN DECIDED TO sleep late, even though it was Monday. He didn’t know whether he even had the energy to go to work. The problem with Emma had thrown him completely. A whole week had passed since their fight, and he hadn’t been able to make himself get in contact with her again. Madeleine had gone back to Stockholm the day after that unhappy Sunday, and that was just as well. He’d been busy at work all week long, trying not to think about Emma at all. He needed a break from her and all their problems. He’d taken time off work and gone up to where Emma’s parents lived on Faro to pick up Elin to spend the whole day with her. It had been both wonderful and painful, because he didn’t get to see his daughter very often.
Now Johan was worn out and feeling low. He rang Pia to tell her that he’d be at home if anything special happened. He didn’t give a damn what Grenfors might think about it. He went back to bed for an hour before he finally got up out of sheer boredom.
He took a shower and made some coffee. With his hair wet and a towel wrapped around his waist, he went out into the hall to get the morning papers, and there he discovered an envelope lying on the mat. He recognized the handwriting.
All it said on the front was ‘To Johan’.
She must have come over and delivered it personally, which meant it was important. He had to pour himself a cup of coffee and light up a cigarette before he could open the envelope. He didn’t usually smoke indoors, but what the hell. A thousand thoughts flew through his head as he tore open the envelope with fumbling fingers.
He licked his lips nervously before he read the message.
When Pia rang he was still sitting with the card in his hand, incapable of moving. He was too busy trying to collect his thoughts.
He could tell from her voice that something was happening.
‘A man was shot to death out at the stone quarry in Slite. It happened only about half an hour ago. I’ll pick you up. Go over to Soderport, and I’ll be there in five minutes.’
Johan stood up. Only something of this magnitude could have torn him away from studying Emma’s note. He
