The Stonecutter. Camilla Lackberg

      ‘It’s probably just as well we get this over with right away.’ Patrik sighed.

      ‘I don’t see the point,’ Ernst muttered. ‘Lilian and Kaj have been fighting for years, but I have a hard time believing that was reason enough for him to kill the girl.’

      Patrik was taken aback. ‘It sounds as if you know them. I got the same impression when Lilian opened the door.’

      ‘I only know Kaj,’ said Ernst sullenly. ‘Some of us old guys get together to play cards occasionally.’

      Patrik frowned. ‘Is that something I need to worry about? To be quite honest, I’m not sure you should even be taking part in the investigation under the circumstances.’

      ‘Bullshit,’ said Ernst sourly. ‘If we couldn’t work on a case because of some minor objection, we wouldn’t be able to investigate shit. Everybody knows everybody else in this town, you know that as well as I do. And I’m quite capable of keeping my work and my private life separate.’

      Patrik wasn’t really satisfied with that answer, but he also knew that Ernst was right to some extent. The town was so small that everyone had some connection to everyone else, so it wouldn’t be possible to use that as an excuse for removing an officer from an investigation. If that did happen, it would be because of a considerably closer relationship. But it was a shame. For a second he had smelled the morning air and seen a chance of getting rid of Lundgren.

      Walking side by side they approached the house next door. A curtain fluttered in the window next to the door but fell back into place so fast that they couldn’t see who was standing behind it.

      Patrik studied the house, the ‘showplace’, as Lilian had called it. He’d seen it every day as he drove back and forth from his home but had never given it a closer look. He agreed that it wasn’t very attractive. It was a modern design with lots of glass and artificial angles. It seemed that an architect had been given a free hand, and Patrik had to admit that to some extent Lilian had a point. The house was perfect for Beautiful Homes magazine, but it fitted in as poorly with the old neighbourhood as a teenager at a party for pensioners. Whoever said that money and taste went hand in hand? The town architect must have been blind the day he approved that building permit.

      Patrik turned to his colleague. ‘What sort of job does Kaj do? Since he’s home on a weekday, I mean? Lilian said something about managing director.’

      ‘He sold the company and took early retirement,’ said Ernst, whose tone was still grouchy after having his professionalism questioned. ‘But he also coaches the football team. He’s very good at it, actually. He would have turned pro when he was young, but he had some kind of accident that made it impossible. And I say again, this is a waste of time. Kaj Wiberg is one of the really good guys, and anyone who says different is lying. All this is just ridiculous.’

      Patrik ignored his comments and kept climbing the front steps.

      They rang the doorbell and waited. Soon they heard footsteps and the door was opened by a man Patrik assumed was Kaj. He brightened up when he saw Ernst.

      ‘Hi, Lundgren, how are things? There’s no card game today, is there?’

      His broad smile faded quickly when he saw that neither of them reacted. He rolled his eyes. ‘So what’s the old bitch come up with this time?’ He showed them in to the big, open living room and sat down heavily in an easy chair, motioning them to have a seat on the sofa.

      ‘Well, not that I don’t feel sorry about what’s happened to them; it’s a real tragedy. But it’s incredible that she has the stomach to keep quarrelling with us even under these circumstances. I think that says a good deal about what sort of person she is.’

      Patrik ignored this comment and studied the man before him. He was thin, of average height, with the physique of a greyhound and silver hair cut short. Nevertheless there was actually something quite nondescript about him – he was the sort of man witnesses would never be able to describe if he decided to rob a bank.

      ‘We’re going round to all the neighbours who might have seen anything. It has nothing to do with your disputes.’ Patrik had already decided, before they came in, not to say anything about Lilian having singled out her neighbour.

      ‘I see,’ said Kaj in a tone that had a slight hint of disappointment. A clear indication that the feud with his neighbour had become a constant and almost essential element in his life.

      ‘But why the questions?’ he went on. ‘It’s tragic that the little girl drowned, but there can’t be anything for the police to investigate further. Surely there can’t be much else for you to do,’ he chuckled, but quickly altered his expression when he saw that Patrik did not find the situation the least bit amusing. Then something dawned on him.

      ‘Am I wrong about that? People are saying that the girl drowned, but you know how people talk. If the police are going around asking questions, that can only mean that it’s a different cause of death. Am I right or not?’ he asked excitedly.

      Patrik gave him a look of distaste. What was the matter with people? How could they view the death of a little girl as something exciting? Didn’t people have any common decency any more? He forced himself to maintain a neutral expression when he answered Kaj.

      ‘Well, that’s partially right. I can’t go into the details, but it turns out that Sara Klinga was murdered, so it’s of the utmost importance that we find out everything she did that day.’

      ‘Murdered,’ said Kaj. ‘Wow, that’s horrible.’ His expression was sympathetic, but Patrik could sense, rather than see, that the sympathy did not run very deep.

      Patrik had to repress a desire to slap Kaj in the face. He found the man’s phoney sympathy disgusting, but he merely said, ‘As I mentioned, I can’t go into the details, but if you saw Sara on Monday morning then it’s important that we find out where and when. As precisely as you can remember.’

      Kaj frowned and thought hard. ‘Let me see now, Monday. Yes, I did see her sometime that morning, but I can’t say exactly when. She came out of the house and scampered off. That kid could never walk like regular people, she always bounced up and down like a blasted rubber ball.’

      ‘Did you see which direction she went?’ said Ernst, speaking for the first time during their visit. Kaj looked at him in amusement; apparently he found it funny to see his card-playing buddy in his professional role.

      ‘No, I just saw her go down the driveway. She turned and waved at someone before she bounded off, but I didn’t see which way she went.’

      ‘And you don’t recall what time this was?’ asked Patrik.

      ‘Not really, but it must have been sometime around nine. I’m sorry I can’t be more exact.’

      Patrik hesitated a moment before he continued. ‘I understand that you and Lilian Florin are not on a friendly footing.’

      Kaj snorted out loud. ‘No, you could certainly say that. There’s probably nobody who could stay on a “friendly footing” with that hag.’

      ‘Is there any special reason for this …’ Patrik searched for the right word, ‘antagonism?’

      ‘Not that there needs to be any special reason to quarrel with Lilian Florin, but I do happen to have