“Probably? You didn’t happen to find yourself at the train station?”

“I was at home.”

“Okay,” Henrik said, looking down at his papers. “But then maybe you can say why you were at Garvaregatan 6 yesterday?”

“Why?” Axel asked. “You clearly figured it out for the most part.”

Henrik swallowed repeatedly in an effort to stifle his irritation. He felt such a strong disgust for the sleazy lawyer sitting before him that he wasn’t sure how to manage the interrogation.

“I’m going to ask you the same question again and again until you give me an answer,” he said, as controlled as possible.

“What do you want, Henry boy?” Peter Ramstedt asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Axel here is under arrest for threatening a police officer and possession of a controlled substance,” he said.

“We know that,” Peter Ramstedt said.

“I had to defend myself,” Axel began. “I thought...”

He put his face in his hands and sighed heavily.

“You thought what?” Henrik asked.

“I thought you were someone else.”

“Like who, then? Tell us.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Henrik said. “I have a very strong desire to talk to someone who can help me solve an investigation.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with any murder.”

“Investigation, I said. Who said that it had anything to do with murder?”

Axel looked down.

“Okay, so maybe we should start there,” Henrik said. “Do you know who Robin Stenberg is?”

“No.”

“You’ve never met anyone named Robin Stenberg?”

“No, not that I know of.”

“According to our information, he visited Bryggan often.”

“But I don’t usually meet my...”

“Your what? Your clients? What were you going to say?”

Axel shook his head, his gaze still focused on the table.

Henrik leaned forward, tapping his fingertips together. He was having a hard time sitting still.

“Did you know,” he said, “that there are people who make sure evidence is destroyed or disappears? Sometimes it’s pure ignorance, as for example when an officer contaminates the scene of a crime with his DNA. That’s incredibly frustrating.”

Axel lifted his head, blinking twice.

“What are you getting at?” Peter Ramstedt asked.

“What’s even more frustrating,” Henrik said, his jaw clenched, “is when proof or information is concealed. For us officers, it’s important, of course, to secure evidence, or gain access to information, as quickly as possible. It’s difficult to do a good job if you have obstacles in your path. A colleague you can’t trust, for example.”

“Now I’m really not following,” Peter said.

“Your client is an officer of the law!”

“Yes, but...”

“On Friday, a young man named Robin Stenberg walked into the police station. He came here because he wanted to talk to someone. He talked to you, Axel.”