‘I agree. But they’re going to have answer a lot of questions.’
Patrik and Paula went upstairs. Here, too, everything looked the same as it had on the previous day – except in the children’s room. There the text on the wall, the blood-red words, had been replaced by a swathe of thick black paint.
They stopped in the doorway.
‘Christian must have painted over the words yesterday,’ said Paula.
‘I can understand it. I probably would have done the same thing.’
‘So what do you really think?’ asked Paula, going into the bedroom next door. She put her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room before starting a meticulous search.
‘About what?’ said Patrik as he joined her, going over to the wardrobe and opening the doors.
‘Was Christian murdered? Or did he take his own life?’
‘I know what I said at the meeting back at the station, but I’m not ruling anything out. Christian was an odd person. The few times we talked to him, I had the feeling that things were going on in his head that simply defied comprehension. But apparently there’s no suicide note, at any rate.’
‘People don’t always leave a note. You know that as well as I do.’ Paula carefully pulled out the bureau drawers, putting her hand inside to go through the contents.
‘You’re right, but if we’d found one, we wouldn’t have to speculate about what happened.’ Patrik straightened up, pausing to catch his breath. His heart was pounding, and he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
‘I don’t think there’s anything here that’s worth a closer look,’ said Paula, closing the last drawer. ‘Shall we go?’
Patrik hesitated. He didn’t want to give up, but Paula was right.
‘Let’s go back to the station and wait for Annika to find something. Maybe Gosta and Martin have had better luck with Kenneth.’
‘We can always hope so,’ said Paula, sounding sceptical.
They were just on their way out the door when Patrik’s mobile rang. He yanked it out of his pocket, but he was disappointed to see it wasn’t the station calling. In fact, he didn’t recognize the number.
‘Patrik Hedstrom, Tanum police,’ he said, hoping to keep the conversation brief so that the line wouldn’t be busy if Annika tried to call. Suddenly he froze.
‘Hello, Ragnar.’ He motioned to Paula, who stopped halfway to the car.
‘Yes? I see. Well, we’ve also found out a few things… Of course. We can discuss that when we meet. We could drive out there now. Should we come to your house? Oh, all right. We’ll find it. Right. See you soon.’
He ended the call and looked at Paula. ‘That was Ragnar Lissander. He says he has something to tell us. And something to show us too.’
All the way back from Uddevalla, the name had kept whirling through his mind. Lissander. Why was it so hard to remember where he’d heard that name before? And his former colleague Ernst Lundgren kept turning up in his thoughts too. Somehow the name was linked to him. Approaching the exit to Fjallbacka, Gosta finally came to a decision. He deliberately turned the wheel to the right and got off the motorway.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Martin. ‘I thought we were heading back to the station.’
‘We just need to make a brief stop at someone’s house first.’
‘At someone’s house? Whose house?’
‘Ernst Lundgren’s.’ Gosta shifted down and turned left.
‘Why are we going to see Ernst?’
Gosta told Martin what he’d been thinking about.
‘But you have no idea where you’ve heard that name before?’
‘If I did, I would have told you,’ snapped Gosta. He suspected that Martin thought his age was making him forgetful.
‘Take it easy,’ said Martin. ‘We’ll go over to Ernst’s house and ask him, to see if he can spark your memory. It’s great that he might actually be able to make a positive contribution for a change.’
‘That would be a new development, wouldn’t it?’ Gosta couldn’t help smiling. Like his colleagues, he didn’t have a very high opinion of Ernst’s competence or his personality. At the same time, he didn’t detest him as wholeheartedly as he knew the others did, with the possible exception of Mellberg. After working with Ernst for so long, Gosta had grown used to him. Nor could he ignore the fact that over the years they had shared a good many laughs together. On the other hand, Ernst certainly had a tendency to make a mess of things. Especially the last time he had been part of the investigative team, before he was fired. But maybe he’d actually be of some help this time.
‘Looks like he’s home, anyway,’ said Martin as they pulled up in front of the house.
‘Yes, it does,’ said Gosta, parking the police vehicle next to Ernst’s car.
Ernst opened the door before they even rang the bell. He must have seen them from the kitchen window.
‘How about that? I wasn’t expecting such important visitors,’ he said, letting his former colleagues come in.
Martin looked around. Unlike Gosta, he’d never been to Ernst’s house before, but he was not impressed. Even though he hadn’t kept his own flat very neat when he was a bachelor himself, it had never approached the chaos he saw here. Dishes were piled high in the sink, clothes were scattered everywhere, and the kitchen table looked like it had never been wiped clean.
‘I haven’t got much to offer,’ said Ernst. ‘But I can always come up with a wee dram.’ He reached for a bottle standing on the counter.
‘I’m driving,’ said Gosta.
‘What about you? Looks like you could use a pick-me-up,’ said Ernst, holding out the bottle towards Martin, but he declined.
‘Okay, okay. I can see you’re a couple of teetotallers.’ He poured a healthy shot for himself and gulped it down.
‘All right. Why are you here?’ He sat down on a chair at the table, and his former colleagues followed suit.
‘I’ve been wondering about something that I think you might know about,’ said Gosta.
‘Aha. So that’s it.’
‘It has to do with a name. It sounds familiar to me, and for some reason I keep associating it with you.’
‘Well, we worked together for a lot of years, you and I,’ said Ernst, and he almost sounded on the verge of tears. This was probably not his first drink of the day.
‘Yes, we did,’ said Gosta, nodding. ‘And now I need your help. Are you willing to keep this to yourself or not?’
Ernst thought for a moment. Then he sighed and waved his empty glass.
‘Okay. Shoot.’
‘Do I have your word of honour that whatever I say stays here?’ Gosta stared hard at Ernst, who nodded reluctantly.
‘Okay, okay. Go ahead and ask your question.’
‘We’re investigating the murder of Magnus Kjellner, which I’m sure you’ve heard about. In the process we’ve come across the name Lissander. I don’t know why, but it sounds familiar. And for some reason the name makes me think of you. Do you recognize it?’
Ernst swayed a bit on his chair. There wasn’t a sound in the room as Ernst considered the question while Martin and Gosta both stared at him expectantly.
Suddenly Ernst broke into a smile.
‘Lissander. Of course I recognize that name. Bloody hell!’
They had agreed to meet at the one place that Patrik and Paula were sure they could find in Trollhattan: the McDonald’s right near the bridge. That’s where they’d had lunch only a few hours earlier.
Ragnar Lissander was waiting inside, and Paula sat down next to him as Patrik bought coffee for all of them. Ragnar seemed even more invisible than he had at home. A small, balding man in a beige coat. His hand shook slightly as he accepted the coffee cup, and he was having a hard time looking them in the eye.
