The factory was started in 1952 by Fabian Lorentz. He came from a long line of fishermen and was expected to follow in his forefathers’ footsteps. But the stock of fish was running out, and young Fabian was both ambitious and intelligent, with no intention of scraping by on the same meagre earnings of his father.

He started the cannery with his two bare hands, and when he died in the late seventies he left his wife Nelly both a robust business and a considerable fortune. Unlike her husband, who was very well liked, Nelly Lorentz had a reputation for being haughty and cold. She never showed herself in town anymore, but like a queen held audiences for those specially invited. So it was a sensation of a high order to see her step through the door. This was going to provide grist for the gossip mill for months to come.

It was so quiet in the room that you could have heard a pin drop. Mrs Lorentz graciously allowed Henrik to help her off with her fur coat, and she entered the living room on his arm. He led her over to the sofa in the middle where Birgit and Karl-Erik were sitting, as she briefly nodded a greeting to a select few of the other guests. When she reached Alex’s parents the conversation finally started up again. Small talk about this and that as everyone strained to hear what was being said over by the sofa.

One of those who had graciously been granted a nod was Erica. Due to her quasi-celebrity status she had apparently been found worthy, even prompting an invitation to come to tea with Nelly Lorentz after her parents’ death. Erica had politely declined, giving as an excuse that she was still in mourning.

With curiosity, she now regarded Nelly as she formally offered her deepest sympathies to Birgit and Karl-Erik. Erica doubted that there was even a scrap of sympathy in her skinny body. She was very thin, with knotty wrists that stuck out of her well-tailored dress. She must have starved herself her whole life to be so fashionably slender, not realizing that what can be lovely with the natural roundness of youth is not as attractive once age has taken its toll. She had a sharp and angular face that was surprisingly smooth and free of wrinkles, which made Erica suspect that the scalpel had helped to put nature on the right track. Her hair was her most handsome attribute. It was thick and silvery grey, done up in an elegant French twist, but combed back so tightly that the skin of her forehead was pulled up a little, giving her a slightly surprised look. Erica estimated Nelly’s age to be a bit over eighty. It was rumoured that in her youth she’d been a dancer, and that she’d met Fabian Lorentz when she was part of a ballet company at a theatre in Göteborg where no upper-class girls would dare show their face. Erica thought she caught a glimpse of a dancer’s training in the graceful way she still moved. But according to the official story, she’d never been near a dance school but was the daughter of a consul from Stockholm.

After a few minutes of hushed conversation, Nelly left the grieving parents and went out on the veranda to sit with Julia. No one gave the slightest indication that they found this quite strange. They went on with their conversations, keeping a watchful eye on the odd pair.

Erica once again stood alone in the corner after Francine left to continue mingling. From there, she could watch Julia and Nelly undisturbed. For the first time that day Erica saw a smile spread across Julia’s face. She hopped down from the windowsill and sat next to Nelly on the rattan sofa, and there they sat with their heads close together, whispering.

What could such a mismatched pair have in common? Erica cast a look in Birgit’s direction. The tears had finally stopped streaming down her cheeks. She fixed her gaze on her daughter and Nelly Lorentz with a look of naked horror on her face. Erica decided to accept that invitation from Mrs Lorentz after all. It might be interesting to have a little chat with her in private.

With a great sense of relief she finally left the house on the hill, glad to breathe in the invigorating winter air once more.

Patrik felt a little nervous. It was a long time since he had made dinner for a woman. A woman, moreover, for whom he felt a strong attraction. Everything had to be perfect.

He hummed as he sliced cucumbers for the salad. After much agony and pondering, he had finally decided on fillet of beef. Now it was trimmed and in the oven, almost done. The gravy was sputtering on the stove, and he could feel his stomach growling from the aroma.

It had been a hectic afternoon. He hadn’t been able to leave work as early as he had hoped, so he had to clean the house in record time. He hadn’t really been aware of the extent to which he had let the house go to pot since Karin left him, but when he saw it with Erica’s eyes, he realized that it was going to take a serious effort.

It felt a little embarrassing to have fallen into the typical bachelor’s trap with untidy surroundings and nothing in the fridge. He hadn’t really understood what a big burden Karin had carried at home. He took the neat, well-kept home for granted and didn’t give a thought to how much work it required to keep it in order. There was a lot he had taken for granted.

When Erica rang the doorbell he flung off his apron and glanced in the mirror to check his hair. Although he’d put gel on it, it was as unruly as ever.

Erica looked fantastic, as always. Her cheeks were a warm pink from the cold, and her blonde hair curled thickly over the collar of her down jacket. He gave her a brief hug, allowing himself to shut his eyes for a moment and inhale the scent of her perfume. Then he let her into the warm house.

The table was already set, and they started in on the appetizer while they waited for the entree to be done. Patrik surreptitiously watched as she tasted with pleasure the avocado stuffed with shrimp. Not really a difficult dish; hard to ruin.

‘I never would have thought that you could rustle up a three-course dinner,’ Erica said as she took another bite of the avocado.

‘No, I can hardly believe it myself. But-skål and welcome to Restaurant Hedström.’

They clinked glasses and sipped at the chilled white wine. Then they ate for a while in companionable silence.

‘How have you been?’ Patrik peered at: Erica from under the hair hanging into his eyes.

‘I’ve probably had better weeks.’

‘Why did you come with them to the interview? It must have been quite a few years since you’ve had any contact with either Alex or her family.’

‘Yes, it’s probably been about twenty-five years or so. I’m not quite sure why I came. I feel as though I’ve just been sucked into a whirlpool, and I don’t know whether I can escape, or whether I even want to. I think Birgit sees me as a reminder of better days. Plus I’m an outsider, so maybe I represent some sort of security.’ Erica paused. ‘Have you made any progress?’

‘I’m sorry, I can’t say anything about the case.’

‘No, I understand. Pardon me, I wasn’t thinking.’

‘No problem. But I thought you might be able to help me. You’ve seen the family a good deal now, plus you know them from before. Could you tell me a little about your impressions of the family and what you know about Alex?’

Erica put down her silverware and tried to sort out her own impressions in the order she wanted to present them to Patrik. She told him everything she’d found out, along with her impressions of the people in Alex’s life. Patrik listened attentively even as he got up and cleared away the appetizer and brought out the entree. Now and then he would interject a question. He was astonished at all the information Erica had uncovered in such a short time. And after she also told him what she knew about Alex from the past, the woman who until now had been merely a murder victim was suddenly transformed into someone with a face and personality.