The Stone Cutter

what Patrik and Gosta had already said to each other.

Patrik merely shook his head. 'Well, I don't know whether she can't think farther than the end of her nose, or whether she's simply crazy. But I think we should put this behind us now. Hopefully we managed to scare her a bit yesterday and she won't do it again. Do we have any other leads?'

No one said a word. There was an alarming lack of evidence and no leads to work with.

'When did you say we'd be getting the results from SCL?' Annika asked, breaking the tense silence.

'Monday,' said Patrik.

'Have the family been ruled out as suspects?' said Gosta, peering at everybody over his coffee cup.

Patrik was reminded at once of Erica's odd tone of voice last evening, when he brought up the family's alibis. There was something nagging at him too; now all he had to do was work out what it was. 'Of course not,' he said. 'Family members are always suspects, but there's nothing concrete to point in that direction.'

'What about their alibis?' said Annika. She often felt left out during the investigations, so she welcomed these opportunities to hear more about what was going on.

'Credible but not confirmed, I would say,' said Patrik. He got up to refill his coffee cup, then remained standing, leaning against the counter. 'Charlotte was sleeping in the downstairs flat because of a migraine. Stig stated that he was also asleep. He'd taken a sleeping pill and had no idea what was going on. Lilian was at home looking after Albin when Sara left the house, and Niclas was at work.'

'So none of them has an alibi that could be considered air-tight,' Annika said dryly.

'She's right,' said Gosta. 'We've probably been a little too cautious, not daring to press them harder. Their statements can definitely be called into question. Except for Niclas, none of their stories can be confirmed.'

There, that was it! Patrik realized what had been nagging at his subconscious. He began pacing back and forth excitedly. 'But Niclas couldn't have been at work. Don't you remember?' he said, turning towards Martin. 'We couldn't reach him that morning. It was almost two hours before he came home. We don't know where he actually was – or why he lied and said that he was at the clinic.'

Martin shook his head mutely. How could they have missed that?

'Shouldn't we question Morgan as well, the son of the family next door? True or not, reports were filed charging that he had sneaked about peeping in windows, ostensibly to see Lilian undressing… though I can't imagine why in God's name anyone would want to see that,' said Gosta, taking another sip of coffee as he looked at the others.

'Those reports are pretty old. And as you say, there isn't much evidence that they're true, especially considering what happened yesterday.' Patrik could hear that he sounded impatient. He wasn't at all sure that he wanted to waste time on investigating any more of Lilian's lies, old or new.

'On the other hand, we've already confirmed that we don't have very much to go on, so…' Gosta threw out his hands, and three pairs of eyes now regarded him with surprise. It wasn't like him to show any initiative in an investigation. But precisely because it was such a rare event, they thought they ought to pay attention. To bolster what he was saying, Gosta added, 'Besides, unless I'm mistaken, you can see the Florins' house from his cabin, so he actually might have noticed something that morning.'

'You're right,' said Patrik, once again feeling a bit stupid. He should have considered Morgan as a potential witness, at least. 'Okay, here's what we'll do: you and Martin talk to Morgan Wiberg…' he lowered his voice but forced himself to continue, 'and Ernst and I will take a closer look at Sara's father. We'll meet again this afternoon.'

'What about me? Is there anything I can do?' said Annika.

'Stay close to the phone. The case should have got a good deal of attention in the press by now, so if we're lucky we might get something useful from the public.'

Annika nodded and got up to put her coffee cup in the dishwasher. The others did the same, and Patrik went to his office to wait for Ernst to arrive. First things first. They had to have a talk about the importance of getting to work on time during an ongoing homicide investigation.

Mellberg could feel fate approaching by leaps and bounds. Only one day left. The letter was still in his top drawer. He hadn't dared look at it again. But he already knew the contents by heart. It amazed him that such contrasting emotions could be at war inside him. His first reactions had been disbelief and rage, suspicion and anger. But ever so slowly a feeling of hope had also emerged. It was this hope that had utterly surprised him. He had always considered his life to be nearly perfect, at least until he'd been transferred to this dump of a town. After that he was forced to admit that things may have taken a slight downturn. Yet other than the still elusive promotion he felt he deserved, he wasn't lacking for anything. It was true, the embarrassing little misadventure with Irina may have given him reason to believe that there were several more things he wanted from life, but he had quickly put that episode behind him.

He had always set great store by not needing anyone. The only person he'd ever been close to, and wanted to be close to, was his dear mother, but she was no longer among the living. The letter, however, implied that all this might change.

His breathing felt heavy and laboured. Dread was mixed with impatient curiosity. Part of him wanted the day to go faster, so that the certainty of tomorrow would replace all doubt. At the same time he wanted the day to pass so slowly that it practically stood still.

For a while he'd considered just saying to hell with everything. Toss the letter in his wastebasket and hope that the problem would disappear on its own. But he knew that would never work.

He sighed, put his feet up on the desk, and closed his eyes. He might as well wait patiently for what tomorrow would bring.

Gosta and Martin slipped discreetly past the big house, hoping that they wouldn't be noticed when they headed for Morgan's little cabin instead. Neither of them was in the mood for a confrontation with Kaj. They wanted a chance to speak with Morgan in peace, without his parents getting involved. Besides, he was an adult, so there was no reason for a parent to be present.

It took a long time before the door opened, so long that they weren't sure anyone was at home. But finally it did open, and a pale, blond man in his thirties stood before them.

'Who are you?' His voice was a monotone, and his face failed to show the inquiring expression that normally accompanied that sort of question.

'We're from the police,' said Gosta, introducing both of them. 'We're going around the neighbourhood interviewing the neighbours about the death of your neighbour's little girl, Sara.'

'I see,' said Morgan, still with the same expressionless face. He made no move to step aside.

'Could we come in and talk with you a bit?' said Martin. He was starting to feel a little uncomfortable in the presence of this strange young man.

'I'd rather not. It's ten o'clock, and I work from nine to quarter past eleven. Then I eat lunch between quarter past eleven and twelve, and then I work again from noon to quarter past two. After that I have coffee and rolls at the house with Mamma and Pappa until three o'clock. Then I work again until five, and after that I have dinner. Then the news is on channel 2 at six o'clock, then on channel 4 at six thirty, then on channel 4 at seven thirty, and then it's on channel 2 again at nine. After that I go to bed.'

He was still speaking in the same monotone, hardly seeming to take a breath during the whole speech. His voice was also a bit too high and shrill, and Martin exchanged a hasty glance with Gosta.

'It sounds like you have quite a busy schedule,' said Gosta, 'but you see, it's important for us to talk with you. So we'd really appreciate it if you could give us a few minutes of your time.'

Morgan seemed to mull over this question for a moment, but then decided to acquiesce. He stepped aside and let them in, but it was obvious he didn't appreciate this interruption of his