‘I can only guess at what Elisabet said to you, but the investigation proved beyond any doubt that Simon’s death was purely accidental. It had rained heavily during the night, visibility was poor, and the rocks up in the quarry were treacherous. Presumably, he went out for a pee, slipped and banged his head, then fell in the water. The sound of the rain hammering on the tents meant that Alexander and the other three, who were sleeping, didn’t hear him or notice that he was missing. But as you’ve realised, Elisabet refuses to accept that conclusion. She’s convinced that someone is hiding what really happened, and that I’m part of the coverup.’ Another sigh, another bout of scratching. The gesture is familiar, yet there is something about his body language that makes a faint alarm bell start ringing in Anna’s head.

‘Over the years Elisabet has written to the chief prosecutor, the police commissioner, and the ombudsman. She’s done her best to get me transferred away from here. Did she mention Bengt Andersson?’

Anna nods, tries not to give away the fact that she is observing him closely as he continues.

‘Of course she did. He’s her brother-in-law. They’ve been at loggerheads ever since Bengt sold off some land from the property old man Vidje had given them. According to Elisabet, as I’m sure she told you, Bengt and I are behind “the great conspiracy”.’ This time Morell actually draws quotation marks in the air. She didn’t think he was the type; it doesn’t match the way he usually expresses himself, and increases the volume of the warning bell.

‘I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into all this, Anna. I had a bad feeling when I heard you’d be renting Tabor. Simon’s tragic death is Elisabet’s lifeblood. On a purely human level, one has to sympathise with her, of course. She and her husband lost their only child, and soon afterwards Karl-Johan became ill. Elisabet is certain there’s a connection; she believes that grief made Karl-Johan go blind, and stop painting. What she forgets is that what happened was a tragedy for many others, not just the Vidje family.’

He shakes his head slowly, which makes him look like a sad old bear. Both the words and the body language seem genuine, and yet . . . there is a faint dissonance that Anna can’t quite put her finger on.

‘Simon, Alexander, and Bruno Sordi had been best friends since primary school. They all spent a lot of time at our house, along with the two girls.’

Morell takes another sip of coffee. ‘Simon was able to play several instruments from a very young age. A child prodigy, according to his music teacher. One in a million. As he got older he was often asked to perform at weddings and funerals. He played and sang so beautifully it would break your heart.’