“I think they’ve got a nerve ticketing cars and harassing sunbathers instead of catching murderers.”

“Kat,” Lubbi sighed, which resulted in a cloud of smoke. “Firstly, it was a joke—the thing I said about harassing sunbathers. They’re not doing that. They’re kindly pointing out that we’re not meant to be sitting here getting pissed with everyone else around. Secondly, the police don’t issue parking tickets—that’s the parking wardens employed by Region Gotland. Meter maids—have you heard the term? They’re not police. Thirdly, there are different kinds of police. Those ones were beat cops—they’re not the ones who investigate murders. That’s up to CID.”

Kat rolled her eyes and made a movement with her head that seemed to express her pain at being surrounded by idiots. Then she cracked open a beer can with a hissing sound.

“What murder are you talking about?” Jeanette asked.

“Haven’t you heard?” Kat said excitedly.

“It’s in no way certain that it’s a murder,” Lubbi said, stubbing out his cigarette with the sole of his shoe. “But they’re ‘not ruling out the possibility a crime has been committed,’ as they so beautifully put it. Likely as not, someone got lost in the woods or had a stroke or something.”

“Which woods?” Jeanette asked.

“Somewhere down south. Garde.”

“But it was ages ago,” said Kat.

“Ages ago?” Jeanette repeated, who did not feel at all relieved by that information.

She sought out more answers in Lubbi’s eyes, and something must have been going on in her own, because suddenly his face changed.

“Let’s drop it,” he said apologetically.

“No, why?” said Kat, whose ability to read the mood left something to be desired. “I think it’s pretty fucking exciting. What if it’s him!”

“Him?” said Jeanette, swallowing. “Do they know who it is?”

“Kat, let’s change the subject,” Lubbi said, looking unhappily at Jeanette.

“They suspect it’s a guy who went missing ages ago,” Kat continued, a glint in her eye. “And that he was murdered.”

Now Lubbi took Jeanette’s hand and squeezed it hard.

“No, Kat,” he said sternly. “The journalist speculated that might be the case. The police haven’t said anything like that—they’re waiting for the man’s autopsy so they can identify him.”

This was a final, desperate attempt to silence her, but the damage had already been done. Jeanette wanted to hear what Kat had to say, even though Kat just had a craving for sensation, and even though the conversation was making Jeanette’s stomach do somersaults.

“Of course it’s him,” said Kat. “Has anyone else on the island gone missing?”

“Who?” said Jeanette in a faint voice.