Except for about a month ago, when he had run into her in the lobby of the police station. She had needed his help to get the names of the residents at various addresses. That’s right, hadn’t she said something about it being near where he lived?

But not once had he seen her name mentioned in connection with the smiley case. Kim Sleizner, on the other hand, figured prominently, together with a certain Ib Sveistrup from the Helsingør Police. Had she been secretly working on the investigation? Was that why she’d asked him for help and not Tuvesson? That wouldn’t be entirely unlike her. Especially if Sleizner was involved. Did that mean she knew something no one else did?

He pulled out the middle drawer on the left-hand side and took out a cloth bundle, placed it on the desk in front of him and unfolded it. There it was, the gun Theodor had come home with on that fateful night when the earth had shattered beneath their feet.

Since then, Matilda’s hospital stay had demanded all his attention; he hadn’t given the gun so much as a thought and had almost managed to forget it even existed. But here it was, waiting to be handed in, registered and examined, and of course he would do that, as soon as he’d found out exactly where Theodor had got it from.

It was a Heckler & Koch USP Compact 9 mm, a model designed for close-range combat, common among the Danish police. That much he knew, but since the serial number had been scratched out, there was no way of doing a search on it.

Was this the connection to Denmark? Could it really be true that his own son was mixed up with those heinous crimes? He had not been well, that was for sure. But that unwell… It had to be a misunderstanding.

He had tried to bring it up with Theodor more than once. But when he hadn’t run away and withdrawn into his shell, he had, like the other night, reacted with rage. And Fabian’s guilt had made him tiptoe around any potential conflict, no matter how small. But the time for that was over. He didn’t care what Theodor’s reaction was. As soon as he got home from the cinema, the truth was going to come out.

He found Dunja’s number on his phone and dialled it to ask if it was really her. It took a few seconds for the technology to connect, but instead of ringing, he heard an automated woman’s voice.

‘The number you have dialled is no longer in use. The number you have dialled doesn’t exist. The number you have dialled is no longer in use. The number…’

He hung up and tried again, but this time he put the number in manually, only to be greeted by the same automated voice.