LITMIR.BIZ

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far as Granlund knew, the missing girl had not been found. Also, she lived in Sveavägen near Vanadis Park. There seemed no room for doubt.

      He thought of the girl's parents waiting at home in suspense, and inwardly he prayed that he would not have to be the one who told them the truth.

      When the detectives at last arrived Granlund felt as if he had been standing an eternity in the sunshine near the child's little body.

      As soon as the experts began their work he left them to it and walked back to the police station, the image of the dead girl branded on his retina.

       7

      When Kollberg and Rönn reached the scene of the crime in Vanadis Park the area behind the water tower was properly roped off. The photographer had finished his work and the doctor was busy with his first routine examination of the body.

      The ground was still damp and the only footprints near the body were fresh and had almost certainly been made by the men who had found the body. The girl's sandals were lying farther down the slope near the red fence.

      When the doctor had finished Kollberg went up to him and said, ‘Well?’

      ‘Strangled,’ the doctor said. ‘Rape of some sort. Maybe.’

      He shrugged.

      ‘When?’

      ‘Last evening some time. Find out when she last ate and what…’

      ‘I know. Do you think it happened here?’

      ‘I see no signs that it didn't.’

      ‘No,’ Kollberg said. ‘Why the hell did it have to rain like that.’

      ‘Huh,’ the doctor said, walking off towards his car.

      Kollberg stayed for another half hour, then took a car from the ninth district to the station at Surbrunnsgatan.

      The superintendent was at his desk reading a report when Kollberg entered. He greeted him and put the report aside. Pointed to a chair. Kollberg sat down and said:

      ‘Nasty business.’

      ‘Yes,’ the superintendent said. ‘Have you found anything?’

      ‘Not as far as I know. I think the rain has ruined everything.’

      ‘When do you think it happened? We had an assault case up there last evening. I was just looking at the report.’

      ‘I don't know,’ Kollberg said. ‘We'll see when we can move her.’

      ‘Do you think it can be the same guy? That she saw him do it, or something?’

      ‘If she has been raped it's hardly the same one. A mugger who is also a sex murderer … it's a bit much,’ Kollberg said vaguely.

      ‘Raped? Did the doctor say so?’

      ‘He thought it possible.’

      Kollberg sighed and rubbed his chin.

      ‘The boys who drove me here said you know who she is.’

      ‘Yes,’ the superintendent said. ‘It seems like it. Granlund was in just now and identified her from a photo her mother brought in here last night.’

      The superintendent opened a file, took out a snapshot and gave it to Kollberg. The girl who now lay dead in Vanadis Park was leaning against a tree and laughing up at the sun. Kollberg nodded and handed the photo back.

      ‘Do the parents know that…’

      ‘No,’ the superintendent said.

      He tore a sheet off the note pad in front of him and gave it to Kollberg.

      ‘Mrs Karin Carlsson, Sveavägen 83,’ Kollberg read aloud.

      ‘The girl's name was Eva,’ the superintendent said. ‘Someone had better … you had better go there. Now. Before she finds out in a more unpleasant way.’

      ‘It's quite unpleasant enough as it is,’ Kollberg sighed.

      The superintendent regarded him gravely but said nothing.

      ‘Anyway, I thought this was your district,’ Kollberg said. But he stood up and continued:

      ‘Okay, okay, I'll go. Someone has to do it.’

      In the doorway he turned and said:

      ‘No wonder we're short of men in the force. You have to be crazy to become a cop.’

      As he had left his car by Stefan's Church he decided to walk to Sveavägen. Besides, he wanted to take his time before meeting the girl's parents.

      The sun was shining and all traces of the night's rain had already dried up. Kollberg felt slightly sick at the thought of the task ahead of him. It was disagreeable, to say the least. He had been forced into similar tasks before, but now, in the case of a child, the ordeal was worse than ever. If only Martin had been here, he thought; he's much better at this sort of thing than I am. Then he remembered how depressed Martin Beck had always seemed in situations like this, and followed up the train of thought: hah, it's just as hard for everyone, whoever has to do it.

      The block of flats where the dead girl had lived was obliquely opposite Vanadis Park, between Surbrunnsgatan and Frejgatan. The lift was out of order and he had to walk up the five flights. He stood still for a moment and got his breath before ringing the doorbell.

      The woman opened the door almost at once. She was dressed in a brown cotton housecoat and sandals. Her fair hair was tousled, as if she had been pushing her fingers through it over and over again. When she saw Kollberg her face fell with disappointment, then her expression hovered between hope and fear.

      Kollberg showed his identity card and she gave him a desperate, inquiring look.

      ‘May I come in?’

      The woman opened the door wide and stepped back.

      ‘Haven't you found her?’ she said.

      Kollberg walked in without answering. The flat seemed to consist of two rooms. The outer one contained a bed, bookshelves, desk, TV set, chest of drawers and two armchairs, one on each side of a low teak table. The bed was made, presumably no one had slept in it that night. On the blue bedspread was a suitcase, open, and beside it lay piles of neatly folded clothes. A couple of newly ironed cotton dresses hung over the lid of the suitcase. The door of the inner room was open; Kollberg caught sight of a blue-painted bookshelf with books and toys. On top sat a white teddy bear.

      ‘Do you mind if we sit down?’ Kollberg asked, and sat in one of the armchairs.

      The woman remained standing and said:

      ‘What has happened? Have you found her?’

      Kollberg saw the dread and the panic in her eyes and tried to keep quite calm.

      ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Please sit down, Mrs Carlsson. Where is your husband?’

      She sat in the armchair opposite Kollberg.

      ‘I have no husband. We're divorced. Where's Eva? What has happened?’

      ‘Mrs Carlsson, I'm terribly sorry to tell you this. Your daughter is dead.’

      The woman stared at him.

      ‘No,’ she said. ‘No.’

      Kollberg got up and went over to her.

      ‘Have you no one who can be with you? Your parents?’

      The woman shook her head.

      ‘It's not true,’ she said.

      Kollberg put his hand on her shoulder.

      ‘I'm terribly sorry, Mrs Carlsson,’ he said lamely.

      ‘But

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