It turned out the suspect had a grandmother aged eighty-seven, sprightly and of sound mind, to judge from her voice. She had been given Einar Falsen’s name at the duty desk. She had been looking for her daughter’s son all weekend, and had finally learned from a neighbour that the police had been there and picked him up.

She could well imagine that a lovely man like Anders would be able to help the police, but might it be possible to let him know to get in touch with her as soon as he was finished with them?

Einar Falsen had a sudden idea. He wondered whether it might be the case that Anders kept some belongings at her house? Yes indeed, the grandmother proudly confirmed. After all, she had plenty of space, she’d been a widow for twenty years, and Anders was her only grandchild. He was such a good, considerate boy. He often visited her, and if Anders needed his yellow suitcase, then the police could most certainly come and collect it.

An hour later, at half past nine on the Sunday night, a rather despondent Anders sat in an interview room with Einar Falsen, wondering if he would be able to go home soon. A young police-woman came in with a large, heavy, bright yellow suitcase that was placed on the table between Einar and Anders.

Einar asked the prisoner for the code for the lock.

Anders broke down. Einar broke open the lock. The case was crammed with VHS videos and Polaroid pictures. It would take days to go through all the home-made videos, not least because the investigators had to take regular breaks from what they had to watch. However, Einar had immediately picked up a bundle of photographs.

One of them was of his own daughter, in a pose he had never been able to forget since then. Anette was maybe eight years old in the picture. She would have been eighteen if she had still been alive, but Anette Falsen had committed suicide two years earlier. She had never told anyone about what had happened to her and had, despite her parents’ tenacious efforts, vanished into a fog of drug-taking and despair before, unable to take any more, she had hanged herself.

Einar, who ever since his daughter’s death had seemed a tad unstable to some of his colleagues, killed Anders on the spot. The policewoman could later say that she had stood as if paralysed, and that the whole incident had taken less than a minute. She had heard the noise, she related in the witness box, a loud crack as the suspect’s neck snapped.

The next morning, Selma Falck was appointed Einar’s lawyer.

Selma could never leave Einar.