‘Hi, I’m Erica,’ she said. ‘We spoke on the phone yesterday.’

‘How nice to meet you!’ said Karin, and Erica realized to her surprise that she instantly liked this woman standing in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw how uncomfortable Patrik looked, rocking back and forth, and she couldn’t help enjoying the situation. It was actually quite funny.

She studied his ex-wife with curiosity. Karin was thinner than she was and a bit shorter. Her dark hair was gathered up in a simple ponytail. She had delicate features, wore no make-up, and looked rather… tired. No doubt from taking care of a toddler, thought Erica, realizing that she herself wouldn’t have stood up to close inspection before they’d managed to get Maja to sleep through the night.

They chatted for a while, but then Erica waved goodbye and headed for the library. It came as a relief to finally put a face to the woman who had been such a major part of Patrik’s life for eight years. She hadn’t even seen a picture of her before. But considering the circumstances that had caused them to split up, it was understandable that Patrik wouldn’t have wanted to keep any photographic evidence of the time they’d spent together.

The library was as calm as always. She’d spent many hours here, and there was something about libraries that gave her a tremendous sense of satisfaction.

‘Hi, Christian!’

The librarian glanced up and smiled when he saw Erica.

‘Hi, Erica. How nice to see you again! What can I help you with today?’ His Småland accent sounded so pleasant. Erica wondered why people from Småland always seemed so likable the minute they opened their mouths. In Christian’s case, the first impression held true. He was always cordial and helpful, as well as good at his job. There had been many occasions when he’d helped Erica find information that she’d only the faintest hope of being able to locate.

‘Do you need to know more about the same case that you were researching last time?’ he asked, giving her a hopeful glance. Erica’s research questions were always a welcome diversion from the rather monotonous routine of his job, which mainly consisted of looking up information about fish, sailboats, and the fauna of Bohuslän.

‘No, not today,’ she said, sitting down on a chair across from him in front of the information desk. ‘Today I need some facts about people here in Fjällbacka. And certain events.’

‘People and events. Could you possibly be a little more specific?’ he said with a wink.

‘I’ll try.’ Erica quickly rattled off a list of names: ‘Britta Johansson, Frans Ringholm, Axel Frankel, Elsy Falck – or rather, Moström – and…’ she hesitated a few seconds before adding, ‘Erik Frankel.’

Christian gave a start. ‘Isn’t he the man who was found murdered?’

‘That’s right,’ said Erica.

‘And Elsy? Is that your…?’

‘My mother, yes. I need some information about all of these people, from around the time of the Second World War. In fact, let’s limit the search to the war years.’

‘In other words, 1939 to 1945.’

Erica nodded and watched expectantly as Christian typed the desired request into his computer. ‘How’s it going with your own project, by the way?’

A cloud seemed to pass over the librarian’s face. Then it was gone, and he answered her question. ‘I’m about halfway done. Thanks for asking. And it’s largely because of the advice you’ve given me that I’ve made it this far.’

‘Oh, it was nothing,’ said Erica, looking embarrassed. ‘Just let me know if you need any more writing tips, or if you’d like me to have a look at your manuscript. By the way, have you chosen a working title?’

‘The Mermaid,’ said Christian, not meeting her eye. ‘It’s going to be called The Mermaid.’

‘What a good title. How’d you come up with…?’ Erica asked, but Christian brusquely shook his head, indicating that he didn’t want to discuss it. She looked at him in surprise. That was so unlike him. She wondered if she’d said something to offend him, but couldn’t think what it might be.

‘Here are some articles that may interest you,’ Christian then said. ‘Shall I print them out for you?’

‘Yes, please,’ said Erica, still a bit startled. But when Christian returned a few minutes later, bringing her a stack of pages from the printer, he was back to his usual self.

‘This should keep you busy for a while. Just let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with.’

Erica thanked him and left the library. She was in luck. The café across the street was open, and she bought herself a coffee before she sat down and began to read. But what she found was so interesting that she left her cup untouched, and the coffee grew cold.

‘All right, what have we found out so far?’ Mellberg grimaced as he stretched out his legs. He was surprised that the aches and pains from exercising could last so long. At this rate, he would recover just in time for the next mangling of his body at the Friday salsa class. But strangely enough, the idea wasn’t as alarming as he’d imagined. There was something about the combination of the fascinating music, the closeness of Rita’s body, and the fact that by the end of the previous week’s class his feet had actually started to figure out the moves. No, he wasn’t planning to quit anytime soon. If there was anyone who had the potential to become the salsa king of Tanumshede, he was it.

‘Sorry, what did you say?’ Mellberg gave a start. He’d completely missed what Paula was saying as he lapsed into daydreams about Latin rhythms.

‘As Paula said, we’ve managed to pin down the time frame for Erik Frankel’s murder,’ said Gösta. ‘He was with his… girlfriend, or whatever you call people in that age bracket, on the fifteenth of June. He split up with her, and he was visibly drunk, which according to her was highly unusual.’

‘And the cleaning woman went over to the house on the seventeenth of June, but couldn’t get inside,’ Martin added. ‘That doesn’t necessarily mean that he was dead by then, but it’s a clear indication that he may have been. She’d never been unable to get into the house before. If the brothers weren’t at home, they would always leave a key for her.’

‘Okay, good, then for the time being we’ll work on the assumption that Erik died between the fifteenth and seventeenth of June. Check with his brother to find out whether he was at home or had already left for Paris.’ Mellberg leaned down to scratch Ernst behind the ears. The dog was lying under the kitchen table, having settled on top of Mellberg’s feet, as usual.

‘But do you really think that Axel Frankel had anything to do with…?’ Paula stopped in mid-sentence when she saw Mellberg’s cross expression.

‘I don’t think anything at the moment. But you know as well as I do that most murders are committed by a family member. So let’s give the brother a shake. Okay?’

She nodded. For once Mellberg was right. She couldn’t let the fact that she’d found Axel Frankel so likable hinder the job she needed to do.

‘What about the boys who broke into the house? Have we secured any leads from them?’ Mellberg looked at his colleagues seated around the table. Everyone turned to Gösta. He fidgeted nervously.

‘Ah… well… yes and no. I took shoe prints and fingerprints from one of the boys – Adam – but I haven’t really had time to… talk to the other one.’

Mellberg opened his eyes wide. ‘You’ve had several days to take care of this simple task, and yet you haven’t – and I quote – had time for it. Is that correct?’

Gösta nodded, looking downhearted. ‘Er, uh, yes… that’s correct. But I’ll see to it today.’ Yet another glare from Mellberg.

‘Immediately, ASAP,’ said Gösta, looking down.

‘You’d better hop to it,’ said Mellberg, who then shifted his attention to Martin and Paula.