LITMIR.BIZ

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was working as a waitress at Röde Orm in Grebbestad when he first laid eyes on her. All his friends had practically drooled when they saw her plunging neckline and long legs, and he decided on the spot that he had to have her. He usually got what he wanted, and Lisa proved to be no exception. He wasn’t bad-looking, but what usually nailed the final decision was when he introduced himself as Jan Lorentz. Mentioning his last name normally brought a gleam to a woman’s eyes, and from then on it was all systems go.

      He had been obsessed with Lisa’s body in the beginning. He couldn’t get enough of her, and he effectively closed his ears to all the stupid comments she kept making in her shrill voice. The envious looks from other men when he showed up with Lisa on his arm also increased her attractiveness in his eyes. At first her little hints that he should make an honest woman out of her fell on deaf ears. To be quite frank, her stupidity had begun to chip away at her appeal. But what finally clinched his decision to make her his wife was Nelly’s vehement opposition to the whole idea. She loathed Lisa from the first moment she saw her and never missed an opportunity to make her views known. A childish wish to rebel had put Jan in his present predicament, and he cursed his own stupidity.

      Lisa was pouting as she lay on her stomach on their big double bed. She was naked and doing her best to look seductive, but he was no longer interested. He knew that she was waiting for an answer.

      ‘You know we can’t move away from Mamma. She isn’t well, and she could never take care of this big house by herself.’

      He turned his back to Lisa, knotting his tie in front of the big mirror on her dressing-table. In the mirror he saw Lisa frown in annoyance. It wasn’t a very becoming look.

      ‘Why doesn’t the old bitch have enough sense to move into some nice old folks’ home instead of being a burden on her family? Doesn’t she understand that we have a right to our own lives? Instead, we have to take care of her day in and day out. And what enjoyment does she get from sitting on all that money? I bet you she loves watching us demean ourselves, crawling after the little crumbs that roll off her table. Doesn’t she understand how much you do for her? You slave away at that company and spend the rest of the time baby-sitting her. The old hag won’t even let us have the best rooms in the house as thanks for our help. We have to live in the cellar while she lolls about in the drawing rooms.’

      Jan turned and gave his wife a cold look. ‘Didn’t I tell you not to talk about my mother that way?’

      ‘Your mother.’ Lisa snorted. ‘You can’t think that she really looks on you as a son, Jan. You’ll never be more than a charity case for her. If her darling Nils hadn’t disappeared, you would probably have been tossed out on your ear sooner or later. You’re nothing more than a temporary stand-in, Jan. Who else would slave away practically twenty-four hours a day for her for nothing? The only thing you have is a promise that when she croaks, you get all the money. First of all, the bitch will probably live to be at least a hundred, and second, I bet she’s willed the money to a home for abandoned dogs and is laughing her head off at us behind our backs. Sometimes you’re just so fucking dumb, Jan.’

      Lisa rolled over onto her back and studied her well-manicured nails. With ice-cold calm Jan took a step towards Lisa where she lay on the bed. He squatted down, wound the long blonde hair hanging off the edge of the bed round his hand, and began pulling slowly, harder and harder, until she grimaced in pain. He put his face right up to hers, so close that he could feel her breath on his face, and snarled in a low voice: ‘Don’t you ever, ever call me dumb, you hear me? And believe me, the money will be mine some day. The only question is, whether you’ll be around long enough to enjoy it.’

      With satisfaction he saw a spark of fear ignite in her eyes. He watched her stupid but primitively sly brain process the information and conclude that it was time to change tactics. She stretched out on the bed, pouting and cupping her hands round her breasts. She circled her finger round her nipples until they hardened and then purred, ‘Forgive me, that was stupid of me, Jan. You know how I am. I talk without thinking sometimes. Is there any way I can make it up to you?’

      She sucked suggestively on her index finger and then slipped her hand down to her crotch.

      Jan reluctantly felt his body respond and decided that at least there was one thing he could use her for. He undid his tie.

      Mellberg scratched his crotch meditatively without noticing the expression of disgust that this gesture aroused in the faces of the people who sat gathered before him. In honour of the day he had put on a suit, even though it was a bit too tight, but he blamed that on the dry-cleaners, who must have screwed up and run it at too high a temperature. He didn’t have to weigh himself to know that he’d put on an ounce or two since he was a young recruit, but he thought that buying a new suit was a waste of money. Good quality was timeless. He couldn’t help it if the idiots at the dry-cleaners couldn’t do their job properly.

      He cleared his throat to get everyone’s full attention. The chatter and scraping of chairs ceased, and all eyes turned towards him as he sat behind his desk. Chairs had been gathered and arranged in a semicircle in front of him. Mellberg looked at everyone in silence with a solemn expression. This was a moment he intended to milk as much as possible. He noticed with a frown that Patrik looked exhausted. Naturally the staff did what they liked in their free time, but considering it was the middle of the work week one ought to expect that they observe moderation in the form of partying and alcohol. Mellberg effectively repressed the memory of the half-bottle he himself had downed yesterday evening. He made a mental note to have a talk with Patrik in private about the station’s alcohol policy.

      ‘As you all know, at this time another murder has occurred in Fjällbacka. The probability that there are two killers is very low, so I think we can proceed from the assumption that the same person who murdered Alexandra Wijkner also murdered Anders Nilsson.’

      He enjoyed the sound of his own voice and the zeal and interest he saw in the faces before him. He was in his true element. He was born to do this.

      Mellberg went on. ‘Anders Nilsson was found this morning by Bengt Larsson, one of the victim’s drinking buddies. He had been hanged, and according to preliminary information from Göteborg, he’d been there at least since yesterday. Until we have more precise information this will be the hypothesis from which we’ll be working.’

      He liked the feel of the word ‘hypothesis’ rolling off his tongue. The group before him was not particularly large, but in his mind it was many times bigger and the interest was impossible to misconstrue. It was his words and orders they were all waiting for. He looked about with pleasure. Annika was typing eagerly on a laptop computer, with a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Her ample feminine curves were clothed in a well-tailored yellow jacket with matching skirt; he gave her a wink. That would have to do. Best not to scare her off. Next to her sat Patrik, who looked as if he were going to fall apart at any moment. His eyelids were heavy and his eyes clearly bloodshot. Mellberg decided he would really have to have a talk with him at the earliest opportunity. After all, one had the right to demand a certain semblance of professionalism from one’s subordinates.

      Besides Patrik and Annika, there were another three employees from the Tanumshede police station. Gösta Flygare was the eldest at the station. He devoted all his energy to doing as little as possible until retirement, which was now only a couple of years off. After that he would devote all his time to his grand passion – golf. He had started playing ten years ago when his wife died of cancer, and weekends suddenly felt much too long and desolate. Sport had soon become like a poison in his blood. He now regarded his job, in which he had never been terribly interested in the first place, only as a disruptive element that prevented him from being out on the golf course.

      Despite the fact that his salary was meagre, he had managed to save enough to buy a flat on the Costa del Sol in Spain. Soon he’d be able to devote the summer months to playing golf in Sweden and the rest of the year he could spend on the courses in Spain. Although, he had to admit, these murders had succeeded in arousing his interest for the first time in ages. But not so much that he wouldn’t rather play eighteen holes right now if the season had permitted it.

      Next to him sat the station’s

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