no idea what it was all about.’
‘And do we believe him?’ Gosta was measuring the distance from his chair to the counter. A quick lunge, and he might be able to do it.
‘I don’t really know. He’s hard to read. What do you think, Paula?’ said Martin, turning to her.
While she thought about the question, Gosta seized his chance. He jumped up and launched himself towards the packet, but Paula’s left hand shot out at lightning speed and snatched it away.
‘Uh-uh, no way…’ She gave Gosta a mischievous wink, and he couldn’t help smiling back. He was starting to appreciate their banter.
The packet of biscuits safely in her lap, Paula turned to Martin. ‘No, I agree. I can’t really make him out. So, no, I’m not sure.’
‘Let’s go back to Britta,’ said Martin, printing BRITTA in big letters on his notepad, and then underscoring the name.
‘What I judge to be our best evidence is the discovery of what is most likely the murderer’s DNA under her fingernails. And the fact that she evidently managed to leave deep scratches on the face or arms of the person who was suffocating her. We were able to interview Herman briefly this morning, and he had no scratch marks. He also said that Britta was already dead when he came home. That she was lying in bed with a pillow over her face.’
‘But he still claims that her death was his fault,’ Paula interjected.
‘So what does he mean by that?’ Gosta frowned. ‘Is he protecting somebody?’
‘Yes, that’s what we think too.’ Paula relented and put the packet of biscuits back on the table, sliding it towards Gosta. ‘Here, knock yourself out,’ she said in English.
‘What?’ said Gosta, whose knowledge of that language was limited to golf-related terms, although even in those instances his pronunciation left a lot to be desired.
‘Never mind. Go ahead and lick off the chocolate,’ said Paula.
‘And then we have the thumbprint,’ said Martin, listening with amusement to Gosta and Paula’s friendly squabbling. If he didn’t know better, he’d have said his old colleague was actually enjoying being at work.
‘A single thumbprint on one button – not much to write home about,’ said Gosta gloomily.
‘No, not by itself, but if that thumbprint comes from the same person who left his DNA under Britta’s fingernails, then I think there’s cause for optimism.’ Martin underscored the letters ‘DNA’ on his notepad.
‘When will the DNA profile be ready?’ asked Paula.
‘The lab is estimating we’ll have it by Thursday,’ replied Martin.
‘Okay, then we’ll run a DNA sampling afterwards.’ Paula stretched out her legs. Sometimes she wondered whether Johanna’s pregnancy symptoms were contagious. So far she had shooting pains in her legs, strange little twinges, and a ravenous appetite.
‘So do we have any candidates for DNA sampling?’ Gosta was well into his third biscuit.
‘I was thinking of Axel and Frans,’ said Paula.
‘Are we really going to wait till Thursday? It’ll take a while to get the results, and scratches heal pretty fast, so we might as well take the samples as soon as possible,’ said Gosta.
‘Good thinking, Gosta,’ said Martin, surprised. ‘We’ll do it tomorrow. Anything else? Anything we’ve forgotten or left out?’
‘What do you mean, “left out”?’ said a voice from the doorway. Mellberg came in with a panting Ernst in tow. The dog immediately smelled Gosta’s stack of biscuit remains and lunged forward to sit at his feet. His begging had the desired result, and the biscuits were disposed of in a flash.
‘We’re just going over a few things, making sure we haven’t overlooked anything,’ explained Martin, pointing at the documents lying on the table in front of them. ‘We were just saying that we need to take samples from Axel and Frans tomorrow.’
‘Oh right, do that,’ said Mellberg impatiently, afraid that he might get drawn into the actual work that needed to be done. ‘Just carry on with what you were doing. It looks good.’ He called Ernst who, tail wagging, followed him back to his office where he lay down in his usual place at his master’s feet under the desk.
‘I see that the idea of finding someone to adopt that dog has been put on ice,’ said Paula, amused.
‘I think we can consider Ernst ‘taken’. Although damned if I know who’s actually taking care of whom. There are also rumours that Mellberg has turned into quite the salsa king in his old age.’ Gosta chuckled.
Martin lowered his voice and whispered: ‘I’ve heard that too… And this morning when I went into his office, he was on the floor doing stretches.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ said Gosta, wide-eyed. ‘How was it going?’
‘It wasn’t.’ Martin laughed. ‘He was trying to touch his toes, but his stomach got in the way. Just to name one reason.’
‘All right, you two. It’s actually my mother who teaches the salsa class that Mellberg is taking,’ Paula admonished them. Gosta and Martin stared at her in astonishment.
‘Mamma invited him over for lunch a few days ago, and he was… really quite pleasant,’ she told them.
Now Martin and Gosta were openly gawping at her.
‘Mellberg is taking salsa classes from your mother? And he’s been over to your place for lunch? Pretty soon you’ll be calling him “Pappa”!’ Martin laughed loudly, and Gosta joined in.
‘Cut it out, you guys,’ said Paula crossly as she stood up. ‘We’re done here, right?’ She strode out of the room. Martin and Gosta exchanged disconcerted glances, but then couldn’t help howling with laughter again. It was too good to be true.
The weekend had brought full-fledged warfare. Dan and Belinda had shouted non-stop at each other, until Anna thought her head was going to explode from all the ruckus. She had admonished them several times, asking them to show some consideration for Adrian and Emma, and luckily that argument seemed to have an effect on both of them. Even though Belinda would never openly admit it, Anna could tell that she liked her kids, and because of that Anna was willing to overlook some of her defiant teenage behaviour. She also thought that Dan didn’t really understand what things were like for his eldest daughter, or why she reacted the way she did. It was as if the two of them had arrived at a stalemate, and neither knew what to do about it. Anna sighed as she walked about the living room, picking up toys which the kids seemed to have spread over every inch of the floor.
Over the past few days she had also been trying to come to terms with the discovery that she and Dan were going to have a child together. Her mind was still in a whirl, but she had managed to suppress the worst of her fears. She had also started feeling just as sick as she’d felt during her first two pregnancies. She didn’t throw up very often, but she did go around with a queasy, seesawing feeling in her stomach, as if she were constantly seasick. Dan had noticed that she’d lost her usual appetite, and like a worried mother hen, he kept trying to tempt her with all sorts of food.
She sat down on the sofa and put her head between her knees, focusing on her breathing in an effort to bring the nausea under control. The last time, when she was pregnant with Adrian, it had lasted until her sixth month, which had seemed like for ever. Upstairs she could hear agitated voices rising and falling to the accompaniment of Belinda’s pounding music. She couldn’t cope with all this. She just couldn’t cope. The nausea was getting worse, and her gag reflex made sour bile rise to her mouth. She leapt up and ran for the bathroom, knelt down in front of the toilet, and tried to spit out what was surging up and down her throat. But nothing came out.
After several minutes of dry heaves, which brought her no relief, she gave up and got to her feet to wipe her mouth on a towel. As she did, she caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror. What she saw alarmed her. She was as pale as the white towel she was holding, and her eyes were big and scared. Just the way she’d looked when she was with Lucas. And yet everything was so different now. So much better. She ran her hand over her stomach, which was still flat. So much hope. And so much fear. All gathered in one little spot inside her womb. So dependent, so tiny.
Of course she’d thought about having a baby with Dan. But not now, not yet. Sometime in the far distant future. After things had calmed down, stabilized. Still, now that it had happened, it hadn’t crossed her mind even for one moment to terminate the pregnancy. The connection was already there. The invisible, fragile, and yet strong connection between her and what was not yet visible to the naked eye. She took a deep breath and exited the bathroom. By now the loud voices had moved downstairs to the hallway.
‘I’m going over to Linda’s. Why is that so fucking difficult to understand! I have my friends, you know. Or are you going to forbid me to see my friends too?’
