What if Molander had already puzzled out that he’d taken over Elvin’s investigation, Gertrud and the pictures in his phone notwithstanding? What if he was already planning his death? A death that, like Elvin’s, would be made to look like suicide.

It wouldn’t be hard to fabricate a motive, considering that his family was on the verge of imploding. Or was he planning an accident? If anyone could mess with brake cables without anyone ever finding out, it was Molander. Especially since he would be the one to conduct the technical investigation.

He decided to seize the bull by the horns and sound Molander out, so he pulled out his phone and dialled his colleague’s number.

‘Hey Fabian. How are you getting on?’ The reply came before he’d heard a single ring. As though his colleague had been sitting poised to answer when he called.

‘Hi, it’s me, Fabian.’

‘Yes, I can see that and I was asking how you’re getting on? Are you done in Wessman’s flat?’

‘Almost,’ he said, looking around to find something at least slightly relevant to bring up.

‘Almost? What have you been doing all morning?’

Was the question genuine or was Molander toying with him? Judging from his tone, he sounded like he always did, whatever that meant. Molander was a master of irony. He never made much of a distinction between when he was joking and being serious, and it wasn’t unusual for people to realize too late that they’d read him wrong.

‘I saw to something else that couldn’t wait first.’ He squatted down to have a closer look at the shelf that lay in the middle of the floor among the shoes, with screws dangling from its brackets. The holes in the wall above gaped empty, indicating that Wessman had probably pulled it down on herself in her struggle to get to her feet.

‘Really, and what was that, if you don’t mind me asking? Nothing serious, I hope?’

The problem was that the shelf was already mentioned in the neighbour’s statement. He needed something less obvious. Something that hadn’t been discussed yet.

‘Depends on how you see it.’ He stood back up and deliberately paused to try to coax out a reaction. But the only response he got was a watchful silence. ‘I stopped by Flätan’s house, and it turned out he was practically done with—’

‘Seriously,’ Molander broke in. ‘You went to Flätan’s house today?’

‘Yes,’ he said, and he heard Molander burst out laughing.

‘That’s outstanding, Fabian. You really are the only one who could get away with something like that. Talk about wanting to be a fly on that wall. But since you’re still alive, I assume he received you without overly strenuous remonstrations. Had he found anything of interest?’