‘That’s a great age. Or maybe not,’ he said, hearing how strained he sounded. The whipped cream from the cake seemed to swell in his mouth.

‘He’s so much like his father,’ said Cia, her fork clanging against her plate. She set it down and looked at Patrik. ‘What is it you want?’

He cleared his throat. ‘I may be really off base, but I know that you want us to do everything possible, so you’ll have to forgive me if -’

‘Just say what you need to say,’ Cia interrupted him.

‘All right. Well, there’s something that I’ve been wondering about. Magnus was friends with Christian Thydell, wasn’t he? How did they happen to meet?’

Cia looked at him in surprise, but she didn’t counter with any questions of her own. Instead she paused to think about what he’d asked.

‘I don’t really know. I think they met right after Christian moved here with Sanna. She’s a Fjällbacka girl, you know. That must be about seven years ago. Yes, that’s right, because Sanna got pregnant with Melker soon afterwards, and he’s five now. I remember we thought that happened rather fast.’

‘Was it through you and Sanna that they met?’

‘No, Sanna is ten years younger than me, so we were never really friends before. To be honest, I can’t actually recall how they ended up meeting. I just remember that Magnus suggested we should invite Christian and Sanna to dinner, and after that we all saw a lot of each other. Sanna and I don’t have much in common, but she’s a nice girl, and both Elin and Ludvig think it’s fun to play with the little boys. And I have a much better opinion of Christian than of Magnus’s other pals.’

‘And who might they be?’

‘His old childhood friends: Erik Lind and Kenneth Bengtsson. I’ve socialized with them and their wives, but only because Magnus wanted me to. They seem to be a very different sort of people, in my opinion.’

‘What about Magnus and Christian? Were they close friends?’

Cia smiled. ‘I don’t think Christian has any close friends. He’s a rather gloomy person, and it’s not easy to get to know him. But he was completely different around Magnus. My husband had that kind of effect on people. Everybody liked him. He made people relax.’ She swallowed hard, and Patrik realized that she had spoken of her husband in the past tense.

‘But why are you asking me about Christian? Don’t tell me something has happened to him,’ Cia added, sounding worried.

‘No, no. Nothing serious.’

‘I heard about what went on at his book launch. I was invited, but I would have felt strange going without Magnus. I hope Christian wasn’t offended because I didn’t show up.’

‘I can’t imagine that he’d feel that way,’ said Patrik. ‘But it seems that someone has been sending him threatening letters for more than a year now. I may be grabbing at straws, but I wanted to find out if Magnus had received anything similar. They knew each other, so there might be some kind of connection.’

‘Threatening letters?’ said Cia. ‘Don’t you think I would have told you about something like that? Why would I keep back any information that might help you find out what happened to Magnus?’ Her voice rose, taking on a shrill note.

‘I’m sure that you would have told us about it if you had known,’ Patrik hastened to interject. ‘But maybe Magnus didn’t say anything because he didn’t want to worry you.’

‘Then why would I be able to tell you anything about it?’

‘In my experience, wives can sense things even if their husbands don’t specifically talk about what’s bothering them. My wife can do that, at any rate.’

Cia smiled again. ‘You have a point there. And it’s true. I would have known if something was weighing on Magnus. But he was his usual carefree self. He was the world’s most stable and reliable person, almost always cheerful and upbeat. Sometimes I’ve found that annoying, and I have to admit to occasionally trying to provoke a negative reaction from him if I was feeling angry and upset. But I never succeeded. Magnus was the way he was. If something was bothering him, he would have told me about it. If for some reason he decided not to do that, I still would have noticed that something was wrong. He knew everything about me, and I knew everything about him. We had no secrets from each other.’ She spoke with great confidence, and Patrik could tell that she meant what she said. But he still had his doubts. It was impossible to know everything about another person. Even someone you loved and had chosen to share your life with.

He looked at Cia. ‘Please forgive me if I’m asking too much, but would you mind if I took a look around the house? Just to get a clearer picture of the kind of person Magnus was.’ Even though they had already been talking about Magnus as if he were dead, Patrik regretted the way he had formulated his last remark. But Cia didn’t comment. Instead, she motioned towards the doorway and said:

‘Look around as much as you like. I mean it. Do whatever you want, ask me any questions you can think of, as long as you find him.’ With an almost aggressive motion she wiped away a tear with the back of her hand.

Patrik sensed that she needed to be alone for a moment, so he seized the opportunity to get up and leave the room. He started his search in the living room. It looked much like the living room in thousands of other Swedish homes. A big, dark blue sofa from IKEA. Billy bookshelves with built-in lighting. A flat-screen TV on a stand made of the same light-coloured wood as the coffee table. Little knickknacks and travel souvenirs; on the wall, photographs of the children. Patrik went over to a big, framed wedding picture hanging over the sofa. It was not a traditional, formal portrait. Magnus, wearing a morning coat, was lying on his side in the grass with his head propped on his hand. Cia stood behind him, wearing a frilly wedding dress. She had a big smile on her face, and one foot was planted solidly on top of Magnus.

‘Our parents just about died of fright when they saw that wedding picture,’ said Cia, and Patrik turned around to look at her.

‘It’s certainly rather… different.’ He glanced again at the photo. He’d met Magnus a few times since he’d moved to Fjällbacka, but had never exchanged more than the usual polite words of greeting with him. Now, as he stood here looking at the man’s open and happy expression, Patrik knew at once that he would have liked Magnus.

‘Is it okay if I go upstairs?’ asked Patrik. Cia nodded from where she stood in the doorway.

The wall of the stairwell was also covered with photographs, and Patrik paused to study them. They bore witness to a rich life that was focused on family and the ordinary joys. And it was obvious that Magnus Kjellner had been tremendously proud of his children. One picture, in particular, made Patrik’s stomach knot up. A holiday photo, showing a smiling Magnus standing between Elin and Ludvig, with his arms around both of them. His face was aglow with such happiness that Patrik couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. He turned away and continued up the stairs.

The first two rooms belonged to the kids. Ludvig’s was surprisingly neat, without any clothes tossed on the floor. The bed was made, and the pen holder and everything else on the desk had been meticulously arranged. The boy was clearly a big sports fan. Pinned up over the bed in the place of honour was a football jersey from the Swedish national team, autographed by Zlatan. Otherwise, photos of the IFK team from Göteborg dominated.

‘Ludvig and Magnus used to go to the games as often as they could.’

Patrik gave a start. Once again Cia’s voice had caught him by surprise. She seemed able to walk about without making a sound, because he hadn’t heard her come up the stairs.

‘Quite a tidy young boy.’

‘Yes, just like his father. Magnus did most of the picking up and cleaning here at home. I’m the messier one. If you have a look in the next room, you’ll see which of our children takes after me.’