herself with tears, claiming she hadn’t said any such thing to anyone, that it was all a lie, that somebody was screwing with her. Uffe seemed not to believe her, and the altercation became more physical. Then Martin saw himself and Hanna enter the picture and break up the fight. The camera occasionally zoomed in on their faces, and he could see that they looked just as determined as they had felt at the time.
Then came almost forty-five minutes of tape time when nothing happened. Martin tried to pay attention as best he could, tried to spot things he had missed, maybe something that was said, something about other people. But there was nothing new. And sleep constantly threatened to force his eyes shut. He pressed ‘pause’ and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. He needed all the help he could get to stay awake. After pressing ‘play’ again he sat up straight and continued watching the tape. A quarrel began brewing between Tina, Calle, Jonna, Mehmet and Lillemor. He heard the same accusations from them that he’d heard from Uffe. They were screaming at Lillemor, shoving her and saying what the fuck was the big idea of her talking shit about them. He saw Jonna launch a violent attack against her. Lillemor again defended herself while crying so hard that the mascara ran down her cheeks in dark rivulets. Martin couldn’t help being moved by how small, helpless and young she suddenly looked underneath all that hair, makeup and silicone. She was just a little girl. He took a gulp of coffee and then saw on the screen how he and Hanna stepped in to break up the fight. The camera sometimes followed Hanna, who led Lillemor off to the side, sometimes him. With an angry look on his face, he told off the other participants. Then the camera turned back to the car park and he saw Lillemor run off towards town. The camera zoomed in on her back as she moved away, then it showed Hanna talking on her mobile, and then Martin, who still looked angry as he watched Lillemor flee.
After another hour he had seen nothing more than drunken youths and cast members partying on. By three a.m. the last of them had left and the cameras stopped filming. Martin sat there staring unseeing at the black screen while the tape rewound. He couldn’t say that he had discovered anything new that would lead them further. But something was gnawing at his subconscious; it felt like a tiny piece of dust in his eye. He looked at the black screen. Then he pressed ‘play’ again.
‘I only have an hour for lunch,’ said Ola peevishly when he opened the door. ‘So make it short.’ Gosta and Hanna stepped inside and took off their shoes. They hadn’t seen Ola’s home before, but they weren’t surprised to see how neat and orderly it looked. They’d seen his office, after all.
‘I’ll eat while we talk,’ Ola said, pointing at a plate of rice, chicken, and peas. No gravy, Gosta noted, who would never think of eating a meal without gravy. On the other hand, he was blessed with a metabolism that kept the weight off. He hadn’t yet acquired a paunch, despite his high-calorie diet. Maybe Ola wasn’t as fortunate.
‘So what do you want now?’ said Ola, carefully spearing some peas with his fork. Gosta observed in fascination how Ola seemed to have an aversion to mixing different kinds of food in the same bite; he meticulously ate the peas, the rice, and the chicken separately.
‘We’ve acquired some new information since last time,’ Gosta said dryly. ‘Do the names Borje Knudsen or Elsa Forsell sound familiar?’
Ola frowned and turned round when he heard a sound behind him. Sofie came into the room and looked quizzically at Gosta and Hanna.
‘What are you doing at home?’ said Ola angrily, glaring at his daughter.
‘I… I don’t feel well,’ she said. She did look a bit peaky.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ said Ola, not convinced.
‘I got sick. I threw up,’ she said, and the trembling of her hands combined with a light film of sweat on her skin seemed to convince her father.
‘Go in and lie down then,’ he said in a somewhat kinder tone of voice. But Sofie shook her head. ‘No, I want to sit here with you.’
‘Go and lie down, I said.’ Ola’s voice was firm, but the look in his daughter’s eyes was even more stubborn. Without replying she sat down on a chair in the far corner. Even though Ola seemed obviously uncomfortable with her sitting there, he said nothing but took another bite of rice.
‘What were you asking about? What were those names again?’ asked Sofie, giving Gosta and Hanna a blank look.
‘We were asking whether your pappa – or you – had ever heard the names Borje Knudsen or Elsa Forsell before.’
Sofie seemed to think for a moment, then she slowly shook her head and gave her pappa an inquisitive look. ‘Pappa, do you recognize those names?’
‘No,’ said Ola. ‘I’ve never heard those names before. Who are they?’
‘Two more murder victims,’ said Hanna quietly,
Ola gave a start and stopped with his fork halfway into his mouth. ‘What did you say?’
‘They were two people who fell victim to the same killer who murdered your ex-wife. And your mother,’ Hanna added softly without looking at Sofie.
‘What the hell are you saying? First you come here and ask about this Rasmus guy. And then you come up with two more? What are the police doing, anyway?’
‘We’re working round the clock,’ said Gosta acidly. There was something about this guy that really riled him. He took a deep breath and then said, ‘The victims lived in Lund and Nykoping. Did Marit have any connection to those cities?’
‘How many times do I have to tell you?’ Ola snapped. ‘Marit and I met in Norway, we moved here together to work when we were eighteen. And we haven’t lived anywhere else since then! Are you retarded or what?’
‘Pappa, calm down,’ said Sofie, laying a hand on his arm. That seemed to help and he said calmly, his voice ice-cold, ‘I think you should do your job instead of running over here to interrogate us. We don’t know a thing!’
‘Maybe you don’t realize that you know something,’ said Gosta. ‘It’s our job to find out everything we can.’
‘You think we know something about why Mamma was murdered?’ said Sofie in a pitiful voice. Out of the corner of his eye Gosta saw Hanna turn her head away. Despite her tough exterior it seemed to upset her to talk to the next of kin. A trying but somewhat positive characteristic for a cop to have. Gosta himself felt that he’d become too jaded during his many years on the force.
‘We can’t discuss it I’m afraid,’ he said to Sofie, who looked like she was feeling sick. He hoped that it wasn’t contagious. Showing up at the station with the stomach flu and making everybody else sick too wouldn’t be very popular.
‘Is there anything, anything at all, that you haven’t told us about Marit? Anything could be of use in finding a connection between Marit and the other victims.’ Gosta stared hard at Ola. He had the same feeling he’d got when they talked to him at Inventing. There was something the man wasn’t telling them.
But without flinching Ola said between clenched teeth, ‘We – know – nothing! Go over and talk to that lesbo instead, maybe she knows something!’
‘I… I…’ Sofie stammered, looking uncertainly at her father. She seemed to be trying to form words but didn’t know how. ‘I…’ she began again, but a glance from Ola made her shut up. Then she rushed out of the kitchen with her hand over her mouth. From the lavatory came the sound of her retching.
‘My daughter is ill. I’d like you to leave now.’
Gosta glanced at Hanna, and she shrugged her shoulders. They headed for the door. He wondered what it was that Sofie had tried to tell them.
The library was calm and quiet on a Monday morning. In the past it had been located a comfortable walking distance from the police station, but now that it had moved to the new Futura building, Patrik had to take the car. No one was behind the counter when he went inside, but after he cautiously said ‘Hello?’ the librarian of Tanumshede emerged from behind one of the shelves.
‘Hi, what are you doing here?’ said Jessica in surprise, raising an eyebrow. Patrik realized that it had been a while since he had actually set foot in the library. Not since secondary school or thereabouts. How many years ago was that? He didn’t want to think about it. Definitely not during Jessica’s time as librarian at any rate, since she was the same age he was.
‘Yeah, hi. I wonder if I could get some help with something.’ Patrik set his folder on the table in front of the checkout counter and carefully took out the plastic bags with the book pages inside. Jessica came over to look at what he had laid out. She was tall and slim and had medium-blonde, shoulder-length hair that was gathered into a
