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  ‘No, but back then we used to sleep all day,’ said Seja.

  That phase of Seja’s life had only lasted a year. Before she was forced – or persuaded – to go back into education at the age of nineteen. But if she looked back, it seemed as if the whole of her youth had been spent in dive bars or in illegal clubs where underground bands played. She remembered dragging herself through her apartment from her stuffy room to the toilet. Blinking sleepily at her mother and father as they sat at the kitchen table like beings from another planet.

  ‘Sometimes I think it’s amazing they didn’t go completely crazy,’ she said to Hanna. ‘I mean, they never told me off. I suppose they had no idea what I got up to at night.’

  ‘They probably realised there was no point in having a go at you. My mum and I fought non-stop for ten years. I didn’t take any more notice of her just because she was yelling and screaming.’

  They fell silent. Hanna’s mother had taken her own life a few years earlier. Seja didn’t want to make Hanna talk about that if she didn’t want to but, just at that moment, Christian’s former colleague and friend Jonas Palmlöf appeared with his girlfriend Sofia Frisk, weaving their way between the tables.

  Seja just had time to explain: ‘These are the friends we were supposed to be going to the archipelago with. I hope it was OK to say they could meet us here?’

  Hanna allowed the blanket to slip from her shoulders onto the chair and straightened her back. She was wearing a tight cerise top with a striking pearl necklace nestling in her generous décolletage. She flicked her hair back from her shoulders in a smooth, practised movement. Hanna was almost certainly unaware of it, but Seja noticed that her friend changed as soon as a man approached. Particularly if he was good-looking, like Jonas Palmlöf. As soon as Jonas and Sofia had disappeared in the direction of the bar, Hanna whispered her verdict in Seja’s ear: he was totally gorgeous.

  ‘Pack it in, you trollop,’ Seja laughed. ‘He’s here with his girlfriend!’

  ‘So?’ said Hanna, vaguely offended. ‘I’m allowed to say what I think. Do you know how rare it is for me to get out the door without a child in tow? And besides, it’s not often you see such a—’

  She stopped as Sofia came towards them with a glass in each hand.

  ‘I’m just kidding,’ she hissed.

  ‘Yeah, right.’

  This is how it feels, thought Seja, to let go. To lose yourself.

  This is how it feels, lying by the water and drying off, while Lukas grazes on birch leaves and whinnies, the sound travelling across the inlet and bouncing off the rock face on the far side.

  They had left the Bishop’s Arms and strolled along to Skål, which had got busier and busier as the night went on. Hanna had met an old boyfriend in the bar and was sitting very close to him, their shoulders touching. They were deep in conversation; every time Seja glanced in their direction, Hanna’s head was leaning even closer to the man’s.

  Jonas had come with them to the Vasastan area of the city after Sofia had taken her leave. Seja liked how easy-going he was, even if he had had a little too much to drink by this stage.

  He returned to a conversation they had had earlier in the evening. They had been talking about work, about priorities in general, and about the abruptly postponed mini-break in particular. When Seja explained what had happened, and told him how upset she had been, Jonas didn’t seem that surprised.

  ‘I don’t think you necessarily have to buy into the idea that the job takes up all your time. I mean, it’s true that if you’re in the CID you have to be a bit flexible with your working hours, and of course there are emergencies from time to time, and so on. But these things also come down to your personality and how you handle things. There’s always back-up. Nobody’s expected to work non-stop.’

  He took a swig of his beer, aware that Seja was waiting for him to go on. ‘Christian is a friend of mine, as you know. But Christian is – to put it diplomatically – a complete control freak. He’s never really happy until everyone else is being as obsessive as he is.’

  ‘That wasn’t tremendously diplomatic.’

  ‘Believe me, it was.’ He laughed gleefully. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy.’ He thumped his breast pocket dramatically, just over his heart, a macho gesture which almost made Seja blush. ‘He’s one of the most morally upright people I know. He’d take a bullet for anybody. Well, perhaps not for anybody, but for a colleague, a friend. What I mean is, I think maybe he just can’t understand that other people might want something different out of life. It might be that he demands way too much from everybody else. But he allows himself even fewer concessions. You know, I actually think . . .’

  He banged his glass down on the table. A girl smiled and raised her eyebrows as she walked past. Jonas waved theatrically. ‘I think Christian is harder on himself than anyone else I know. It’ll finish him off one of these days.’

  Seja didn’t know how to respond to that. The Christian Jonas was talking about didn’t sound like the Christian she knew.

  ‘I don’t really know,’ she said eventually. ‘I don’t see him as a police officer when he’s with me. I see a completely different side of him.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ shouted Jonas.

  Seja gave what sounded even to her like a slightly strangled laugh. ‘What do you mean, rubbish? What do you know about our relationship?’

  The light from above was reflected in his eyes, making them glint.

  ‘You do not see a different side of him. There is no other side to Christian Tell. That’s what I mean!’

  Seja leant forward, her expression challenging as she met his gaze. ‘What do you want me to say to that?’

  ‘I’m just telling it like it is. Someone needs to save Christian from himself.’

  ‘If I’m to believe what you say, it sounds as though it would be a better idea to dump him straight away.’

  ‘Well, if you get fed up, you’ll have to dump him. Because he’ll never leave you. Do you understand? Deep down, he’s incredibly loyal. He might mess everything up, he might act in a way that makes you think he’s leaving you, but . . . He’ll hang onto you like a bloody lifebuoy.’

  He fell silent. Seja didn’t speak either. She felt surprisingly embarrassed. A bell rang behind the bar. Last orders.

  ‘Hang in there. He really needs you.’

  Seja groaned and covered her face with her hands. ‘Enough, Jonas. You really are embarrassing me!’

  Jonas grinned as he suddenly realised how soppy he’d been sounding. He took Seja’s hand and shook it vigorously.

  ‘Does it embarrass you to be told that you’re an exciting and very beautiful woman, Seja? I thought you knew that! Hello! Earth to Seja! The old sod’s been very lucky, and he knows it.’

  ‘As I said, you’re embarrassing me.’

  ‘Really? Brilliant.’

  Seja contemplated Christian’s friend in profile as he got out his wallet. Yes. It was probably best if the evening came to an end at this point. She was invited to her neighbours for dinner the following day, and she had no wish to turn up with a hangover. Besides, she needed some time to go over what had been said this evening. Had she heard genuine insight or simply drunken ramblings?

  She stood up.

  It was illogical, but she was suddenly desperate to see Christian. Only a few hours earlier she had been upset and disappointed. She considered going round to his apartment. Actually, she didn’t have a choice. The last bus to Stenared had already gone.

  She saw Hanna leaving the bar with her ex, just as her mobile beeped. She had a good idea what the message was about.

  12

  Tell had been driving with the window wound down and his elbow resting on the door, a position that encapsulated freedom precisely because it was such a cliché. He wasn’t the kind of person whose day was dictated by the weather. If anything, he was inspired to achieve as much as possible on warm, sticky summer days, when you shouldn’t really be indoors working. Conversely, days th
at were heavy with rain sometimes felt positively liberating: a slight feeling of depression meant you were normal after all. Nevertheless, when the first warm days of the year cooled off towards dusk, even Tell was filled with a quiet sense of solemnity. He felt as if the world around him were softening, its scents and smells fading. Heat lingered in the fabric of buildings. As he got out of the car on Mariagatan, the cold night air came rolling in and bumped against the hot walls around him; perhaps it was this contrast that perked him up.

  He was struck by how quiet this part of the city was compared with where he lived. He could just about make out the noise of a party from an open window further down the street, and the sound of the odd car or siren broke the relative quiet. But then all was silent once more.

  The entrance to Axel’s block wasn’t locked. Tell did his best not to thunder up the lino-covered stairs to the first floor; he raised his hand to knock on the door and thought of Seja, as had happened so often lately when his mind should have been on the job. Sometimes the feel of her skin was like a memory on his hands. A fleeting reminder that she existed. Usually this made him feel warm and happy; occasionally he felt guilty, as he did now, but then he was annoyed at the very idea of feeling guilty.

  The man’s face was pale beneath his stubble and he plucked constantly at his shirt.

  He was in shock.

  ‘I can’t get my head round this,’ Axel Donner repeated.

  ‘First of all, I’d like to thank you for agreeing to see me at this late hour,’ said Tell.

  It really was an ungodly hour. Tell had been heading in the direction of home when a feeling of restlessness had made him choose between letting off steam with a couple of drinks and trying to work for a couple more hours. He hadn’t called Seja since he’d left that cowardly message asking her to cancel the booking. She hadn’t called back, which didn’t bode well. And now she was probably asleep.

  According to Rebecca Nykvist, Donner was an eccentric bachelor, a slapdash character who seemed all over the place, and Tell was banking on the fact that this lack of structure applied to his sleeping habits. His visit wasn’t ideal from a security point of view – current guidelines warned against conducting even preliminary interviews alone. But here he was. Alone.

  And Axel Donner was indeed still up. The paused image on the TV screen indicated that he’d been watching a DVD.

  ‘I won’t take up very much of your time,’ Tell repeated, but Donner didn’t seem to hear him.

  Slapdash wasn’t the first word that occurred to Tell when he stepped inside the tiny one-room apartment. Two simple bookshelves were well filled, and apart from that there were just four pieces of furniture. Sparse would be a more appropriate word under the circumstances.

  ‘I don’t understand . . . she rang me,’ said Donner. ‘Rebecca. Henrik’s girlfriend. She rang me last night, really late. She woke me up and asked about Henrik.’

  Tell pricked up his ears. ‘Go on.’

  ‘It was clear he’d told her – I might as well say it now – he’d told her we were going to revise together. But he wasn’t here, and she—’

  ‘Got upset?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘You knew about his affair with your tutor?’

  Axel Donner nodded. ‘I think a lot of her students knew but then again, maybe they didn’t. The ones who were on the study trip knew, though.’

  ‘Study trip?’

  ‘To Istanbul. Last September. That was when they got together – you couldn’t really miss it.’

  He leant back against the wall, his head thudding as it made contact.

  ‘Do you know what time it was when she rang?’

  ‘It was in the middle of the night, I don’t know exactly. Definitely after midnight.’

  That would be easy enough to verify. Tell tried another tack. ‘What do you know about Henrik’s relationship with Rebecca?’

  ‘She was a very jealous person,’ he said without skipping a beat. ‘Henrik used to talk about it – it was a real problem. I don’t know if he’d fallen out of love with her, but I think he was tired of her . . . how shall I put it . . . hysteria. I think he was on the verge of calling the whole thing off. Otherwise he’d never have gone with another woman. Henrik was really . . . ethical. A good bloke, kind of.’

  There was a glimmer of sorrow in Donner’s eyes and Tell gave him a few seconds to collect himself.

  ‘Did you know Henrik well?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Rebecca?’

  ‘No, not at all. She was never with us, she was . . . she wasn’t with us.’

  ‘And Ann-Marie Karpov?’

  ‘Did I know her personally, you mean? No, only as a tutor. She and Henrik didn’t really meet openly, or when other people were around. She was quite . . . she had integrity and . . . authority.’

  ‘Hmm . . . You don’t know if Henrik felt threatened in any way? Or to put it more accurately, was there anything odd about Henrik’s behaviour recently? Anything that seemed strange? Did his behaviour alter . . .? I’m sure you understand what I’m getting at.’

  Axel Donner gave the matter some thought. ‘Well . . . after he started seeing Ann-Marie Karpov, he pretended to be cool with everything, but I know he was stressed out by all the lies he had to tell. He was afraid Rebecca would find out. I think he was getting a bit tired of it all.’

  ‘Did he seem afraid of Rebecca?’

  Now I’m putting words in his mouth.

  ‘No, not exactly, but . . . maybe he was stressed about other stuff too. I think he might have been thinking of dropping out of uni altogether. He wasn’t really keeping up, but at the same time he was doing his own research, going beyond the syllabus. It was . . . I don’t know. He didn’t do anything he didn’t want to do, if you know what I mean. He was a free spirit.’

  ‘So you don’t recall Henrik being worried about anything specific? What was the situation with Karpov’s ex-husband, for example?’

  Donner shrugged. ‘What situation? She’d been divorced for years, hadn’t she? I don’t really think I can help you in terms of evidence or anything . . . But if you want my opinion, I think you should concentrate on Ann-Marie Karpov more than Henrik. She was an important figure, a person who commanded respect. Henrik was . . . Henrik was a good friend, but . . . I mean, he was a nobody in the grand scheme of things, just like me.’

  Donner took a deep breath. ‘And maybe that’s a good thing. No one bothers to murder a nobody. Unless he falls in with the wrong crowd.’

  Half an hour later, Tell was standing in his living room with the lights off, looking down at the deserted street. He suddenly realised how tired he was; he couldn’t even think straight. Even his plan to make himself something to eat – he was definitely in need of food – seemed completely beyond him, so he made do with a few spoonfuls of yoghurt and a slice of crispbread.

  Seja was fast asleep, her breathing deep and even. He didn’t know where she’d spent the evening, but if she’d been really angry she would have gone back to the cottage. The thought cheered him up.

  He slid in carefully beside her. Close, so he could smell the scent of her hair. The morning would give him the chance to explain what had happened, and she would understand. She usually did, but he really wished he didn’t have to catch a glimpse of that expression, that unspoken disappointment. Let her be angry instead, absolutely furious for ten minutes. Then she would point out what a depressing sight he was, and they would laugh together and everything would be all right.

  The following morning he overslept. When Seja stretched like a cat in the tangled sheets, he pushed aside thoughts of work. Instead he devoted his attention to re-establishing his position as a Very Important Person in Seja Lundberg’s life, a person who deserved her love and care. An hour later, he had almost convinced her. He had even agreed to join her for dinner – her elderly neighbours had invited her round. He promised in a particularly weak moment.

  Seja was resting on his arm. Her breath smelled
faintly of the previous evening’s outing, and her dark hair fanned out messily on the pillow. She reached up to the shelf above the bed for her tin of chewing tobacco, which lay on top of his. He felt a rush of warmth, just like when he found a moisturiser in the bathroom cabinet and realised she hadn’t bothered to take it home. Or when she dropped her loose change in his box above the stove, as though they were saving towards a common goal, a holiday, perhaps. These everyday signs of closeness amazed Tell. He didn’t want the sense of amazement to disappear, to be replaced by a familiar feeling of entrapment. For the first time in many years he felt . . . yes, a kind of harmony, but that very feeling brought with it the fear of losing what he had.

  It was ironic, he thought; It’s as if I can’t allow myself to be happy.

  ‘Do you know what would make this morning even more perfect?’

  She kicked the covers down to the bottom of the bed and turned her back to him. He lifted her thick mane of hair and blew on the nape of her neck, which was slightly damp; she pulled him close, moving the palm of his hand up to her cheek.

  ‘No, what would make this morning even more perfect?’

  ‘A strong espresso with hot milk. Freshly squeezed orange juice. Croissants, the ones with chocolate inside . . . No, actually, that would be excessive. Plain croissants, but fresh and dripping with butter.’

  He laughed and rolled onto his back. ‘Such pretentions! Well, if a day-old croissant isn’t good enough for you, I don’t know where to shop.’

  ‘For God’s sake, we’re in the most chi-chi part of Gothenburg, among the most pretentious people in the entire city! You could get a proper French breakfast on every street corner around here. Off you go. It’s the least you can do after yesterday. And besides, do you know how much crawling I had to do over the phone so that we wouldn’t have to pay the full amount at the B&B?’

  ‘You didn’t have to do that,’ Christian ventured, even though he knew the discussion would get him nowhere. At the moment he couldn’t work out whether there was a serious undertone, or whether Seja was joking. ‘I would have paid, obviously. And this is blackmail, by the way.’