‘Someone told Håkan which buttons to press, and moved the pump within reach. However, since assisted suicide is not a crime, Santesson will not be devoting any more resources to this matter. The case is closed.’

She feels the relief flood her body, and hears her solicitor take a deep breath. There is a silence as his professional persona fights with ordinary human curiosity.

‘Did you do it, Anna? Did you help Håkan to take his own life?’

She ends the call without a word, and discovers that she is standing by the locked door of Klein’s cellar. She ought to leave now; Klein’s private life is none of her concern. But just as in the case of her solicitor a few seconds ago, curiosity wins the battle.

The lock and the door are old and sturdy, and it’s easy to find the matching key. The staircase behind the door is in darkness, and she gropes for the light switch. The worn carpet suggests that the stairs are used frequently. At the bottom is an open door leading to a laundry room, with another locked door opposite. This one is newer, and made of steel.

Anna picks out the right key and unlocks the door. The room beyond doesn’t have that ‘cellar’ smell of cold and dampness; it’s much more pleasant. When she turns on the light, she sees that the walls are lined with custom-made bookshelves. There are thick rugs on the floor, and two wing-backed armchairs in one corner, each with its own reading lamp. She can imagine Klein and Elisabet sitting there reading, but is surprised that they’ve chosen such a tucked-away spot when the whole of Änglaberga is just a stone’s throw away. Were they really so afraid of being found out?

The shelves at the far end of the room contain only books, but the three closest to her are crowded with photographs. The first contains only pictures of Simon. Simon as a baby, Simon as a blond, tousle-haired little boy, his first day at school, carrying a backpack that is far too big for him. In the photos that follow he almost always has an instrument in his hand – guitar, violin, trumpet. Then there are pictures from what must have been the studio above the garage, and finally Simon leaning against a beautiful red sports car, with his student cap on his head and a garland of flowers around his neck. She assumes this is Karl-Johan’s summer car, the charred remains of which are still in one of the outbuildings at Tabor.