LITMIR.BIZ

      Gösta sneaked a look at Hanna as they walked towards Kerstin’s building. He realized that in a surprisingly short time he had become enchanted with Hanna Kruse. Not in some dirty old man way; it was more of a fatherly feeling. She also reminded him a great deal of his late wife when she was young. She’d had the same blonde, blue-eyed looks, and just like Hanna she was petite but strong. Yet it was obvious that talking to the next of kin was not one of Hanna’s favourite assignments. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her jaws clenched, and he had to check himself from putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Something told him that she wouldn’t appreciate it. He might even find himself on the receiving end of a right jab.

      They had phoned in advance to tell Kerstin they were coming, and when she opened the door Gösta saw that she’d taken a quick shower before they arrived. Her face was bare of makeup and showed the same resignation he’d seen so many times before. It was an expression that appeared on the faces of loved ones when the worst shock had subsided, making the grief more naked and acute. It was only now that the finality of what had happened had sunk into their brain.

      ‘Come in,’ Kerstin said, and he noticed that her complexion had the slightly greenish pallor of someone who had been indoors too long.

      Yet Hanna looked resolute as they sat down at the table in the kitchen. The flat was clean and neat but smelled a bit stuffy, which confirmed Gösta’s impression that Kerstin apparently hadn’t been out since Marit died. He wondered how she got food, whether she had somebody to shop for groceries. As if in direct reply to his question, she opened the fridge to take out milk for the coffee, and a quick look told him that it was well stocked. She also set out some buns that looked like they’d come from the bakery, so someone was apparently helping her with her shopping.

      ‘Do we know anything more?’ she said wearily when she sat down. It felt as though she was asking the question simply because she should, not because she cared. That was another effect of facing cold reality. She had realized that Marit was gone for ever. That awareness could overshadow for a while the longing for an answer, an explanation. Although this varied a lot, as Gösta had learned over almost forty years of service. For some loved ones the search for an explanation became more important than anything else, in most cases however it was merely one way to postpone acknowledging and accepting the facts. He had seen relatives who lived in denial for many years, sometimes even till their own journey to the grave. Kerstin was not one of them. She had faced Marit’s death, and that encounter seemed to have sucked all the energy out of her. As if in slow motion she poured the coffee. ‘Pardon me, I think one of you might have wanted tea instead?’ she said in confusion.

      Gösta and Hanna shook their heads. They sat quietly for a minute before Gösta finally answered the question that Kerstin had asked.

      ‘Yes, we’ve received a few leads that we’re following up on.’ He stopped, unsure how much to tell her. Hanna took over.

      ‘We found some information that points to a connection with another murder. In Borås.’

      ‘Borås?’ Kerstin echoed, and for the first time since they arrived they saw a spark of interest in her eyes. ‘But … I don’t understand. Borås?’

      ‘Yes, we were surprised too,’ said Gösta, reaching for a bun. ‘And that’s why we’re here. To see if there’s any connection that you know of between Marit and the victim in Borås.’

      ‘What … who?’ Kerstin’s eyes shifted. She tucked her hair behind her right ear.

      ‘It was a man in his thirties. Rasmus Olsson was his name. He died three and a half years ago.’

      ‘But didn’t they ever solve the case?’

      Gösta glanced at Hanna. ‘No, the police there decided that it was suicide. There were various indications

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