Something was tugging at Martin's subconscious. Something that made him wonder whether they had actually asked the right questions. He struggled with his intractable memory but finally had to give up. Maybe he was just imagining things.

The clinic lay shrouded in a grey mist, and there was a single car in the car park. Ernst was still sulking about being admonished by Patrik for arriving late. He climbed out of the car and strode over to the main entrance. In annoyance, Patrik slammed the car door a bit too hard and trotted after him. It was like dealing with a little kid.

They passed the pharmacy counter and turned left into the reception area. There was no one else in sight, and their footsteps echoed in the deserted corridor. Finally they located a nurse and asked for Niclas. She informed them that he was with a patient, but he would be free in ten minutes, and she asked them to sit down and wait. Patrik was always fascinated by how similar all clinical waiting-rooms seemed. The same dismal wooden furniture with ugly upholstery, the same meaningless art on the walls, and always the same boring magazines. He leafed absentmindedly through something called Care Guide and was surprised at how many different ailments he'd never heard of. Ernst had sat down as far away as he could, nervously tapping his foot on the floor. Occasionally Patrik caught him shooting dirty looks his way, but it didn't bother him. Ernst could think whatever he liked, as long as he did his job.

'The doctor is free now,' said the nurse. She showed them into an office where Niclas sat behind a desk cluttered with papers. He looked exhausted. He stood up and shook hands with them, even attempting a welcoming smile. But the smile never reached his eyes but hardened into an anxious grimace.

'Are there any developments in the investigation?' he asked.

Patrik shook his head. 'We're working full-tilt, but so far without much progress. But we're bound to have a breakthrough,' he said, hoping to sound reassuring. But inside him the doubts were getting worse. He was far from sure that they would be successful this time.

'What can I do for you?' said Niclas wearily as he ran his hand over his blond hair.

Patrik couldn't help reflecting that the man before him looked like a model for the cover of one of those romance novels about beautiful nurses and handsome doctors. Even now his charm shone through, and Patrik could only imagine how attractive he must seem to women. According to what he'd heard from Erica, over the years that had presented problems in his marriage to Charlotte.

'We have a few questions regarding your activities last Monday morning,' Patrik began. Ernst was still sulking and he ignored Patrik's glances attempting to get him to participate.

'Oh yes?' said Niclas, apparently unmoved, but Patrik thought he noticed his gaze shift slightly.

'You told us that you were at work.'

'Yes, I drove here at quarter to eight, as usual,' said Niclas, but his nervousness was unmistakable.

'That's what we don't quite understand,' said Patrik in a last attempt to involve Ernst. But his colleague just stared obstinately out of the window facing the car park.

'We tried to get hold of you for a couple of hours that morning. And you weren't in. Of course we could check with the nurse,' said Patrik, gesturing towards the door. 'I presume she wrote down your office hours and can see whether you were here that morning.'

Now Niclas was squirming uneasily in his chair, and beads of sweat had appeared at his temples. But he was still struggling to look unmoved, and Patrik had to admit that he was doing a fairly good job of it. In a calm voice Niclas said, 'Oh, I remember now. I'd taken time off to drive out and look at some houses that were for sale. I didn't mention it to Charlotte because I wanted to surprise her.'

The explanation would have seemed plausible if it weren't for the tension that Patrik sensed beneath the calm tone of voice. He didn't believe for a moment what Niclas was saying.

'Could you be a little more precise? Which houses did you go to look at?'

Niclas gave a nervous laugh and seemed to be trying to think of a way to gain time. 'I'd have to check on that, I don't really recall,' he said hesitatingly.

'There aren't that many houses for sale here right now. You must at least remember what neighbourhoods you were in.' Patrik pressed him harder with his questions, and he saw Niclas growing more and more nervous. Whatever he had done that morning, he hadn't been looking at houses.

A moment of silence followed. It was obvious that Niclas's brain was working overtime in an attempt to salvage the situation. But then Patrik saw him give up and his whole body slumped. Now maybe they were getting somewhere.

'I don't…' Niclas's voice broke and he started over. 'I don't want Charlotte to hear about this.'

'We can't promise anything. Things have a tendency to come out sooner or later, but we're giving you an opportunity to present your version before we hear anyone else's.'

'You don't understand. It would destroy Charlotte completely if…' His voice broke again, and even though Patrik had no idea where this was going, he couldn't keep from feeling a certain sympathy for Niclas.

'As I said, I can't promise anything.' He waited for Niclas to conquer his anxiety and continue. Images of sweet, gentle Charlotte came to him, and suddenly his sympathy was mixed with repugnance. Sometimes he was ashamed to have to listen to the males of the species.

'I…' Niclas cleared his throat, 'I was with someone.'

'And who might that be?' asked Patrik. By now he had completely given up hope of bringing Ernst into the conversation. But his colleague suddenly turned from the window and regarded the subject of the interview with great interest.

'Jeanette Lind.'

'The woman who owns the gift shop on Galärbacken?' Patrik asked. He could vaguely recall a petite, curvaceous, dark-haired woman.

Niclas nodded. 'Yes, that Jeanette. We…' once again the same hesitation, 'we've been seeing each other for a while.'

'How long is a while?'

'A couple of months. Three, maybe.'

'How did the two of you manage that?' Patrik's curiosity was genuine. He had never understood how people in affairs could make time to meet. Or how they dared. Especially in a town as small as Fjällbacka, where a car parked for five minutes outside someone's house was enough to start the rumours flying.

'Sometimes at lunch, sometimes I said I was working late. Once I pretended I had an urgent house call.'

Patrik had to restrain himself from going over and punching this guy. But his personal feelings were irrelevant. They were here only to investigate the matter of his alibi.

'And last Monday morning you simply took a couple of hours off to drive over and see… Jeanette.'

'That's right,' said Niclas in a gruff voice. 'I said I had to make some house calls that I'd been putting off for a while, but that I'd be available on my mobile if anything urgent came up.'

'But you weren't. We tried to get hold of you through your nurse on repeated occasions, and you didn't answer your mobile.'

'I forgot to charge it. It died just after I left the clinic, but I didn't even notice.'

'And what time did you leave the clinic to meet your lover?'

That last word seemed to affect Niclas like a slap in the face, but he didn't object. Instead he ran his hands through his hair again and said wearily, 'Just after nine thirty, I think. I had telephone consultations between eight and nine, and then I did some paperwork for about half an hour. So between nine thirty and twenty to, I would think.'

'And we got hold of you just before one. Was that when you came back to the clinic?' Patrik was struggling to keep his voice neutral, but he couldn't help imagining Niclas in bed with his lover at the same time as his daughter lay dead in the sea. However one looked at it, Niclas Klinga was not presenting an attractive picture of himself.