‘Hello,’ Fabian said, waving while he worked on his smile. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know you—’ It felt like he’d just been caught red-handed and sent to the headmaster’s office. ‘If it works better for you, I can wait until you’re done with—’ he continued, and made a move to back away.

‘That would unquestionably have been preferable. But unfortunately, you’ve already disturbed the energy fields.’ Flätan signalled to the man behind him that the session was over. ‘And for your sake, I hope this is important.’ He pointed straight at Fabian. ‘So important it can under no circumstances wait until tomorrow.’

The younger man climbed out of the hot tub, and even though Fabian looked away, he had time to note that his golden-brown body was as close to perfect as it was possible to get. His wasn’t a body that spent its days lifting weights in a gym. No, it stayed fit some other way. Maybe climbing or yoga.

‘Coge el floreado,’ Flätan said in fluent Spanish. In response, the man fetched a floral bathrobe and held it up so Flätan could climb out of the tub. ‘Mientras tanto puedes adobar la carne. Y luego pásame mi maletín, por favour. Ya sabes, el marrón.’

The man nodded and walked away towards the house, seemingly unperturbed by the fact that he was stark naked.

‘So? What’s this about?’ Flätan said, tying his robe and patting down his shoulder-length grey hair.

‘Molly Wessman,’ Fabian said. ‘What was the cause of death?’

Flätan gave Fabian a look as though the question surprised him. ‘Just so I’ve got this right. You come to my home. Uninvited. Possibly you ring the doorbell, but I don’t know. Either way, you don’t care that no one answers, you get in anyway. You don’t give a toss that it’s my birthday. That I was in the middle of my meditation. That I expressly told Tuvesson that it would have to wait until Monday. You didn’t care about any of those things. The only thing you can think about is the cause of death. As though the entire case hinges on you finding out right now, instead of, say, eighteen hours from now.’

Fabian tried to find a reasonable objection, but could only nod, which made Flätan chuckle and move towards a pair of sofas littered with brightly coloured cushions.

‘Annoying as it is, I have to admit that’s what I like about you. Now, don’t jump to conclusions. I still think you’re pretty much as incompetent as most of the homicide detectives in this country. But at least you care. Which is more than can be said for some of your lethargic colleagues. Can I offer you some tea?’