Klippan nodded and backed the video up slightly. ‘This is the first.’ He paused at the exact moment the perpetrator plunged the knife into Andersson’s throat. ‘Can anyone see what that is?’

‘What, should we?’ Tuvesson leaned forward to have a closer look at the frozen image, which looked more like one of those banned horror films from the infancy of VCR technology.

‘Sure, I would go so far as to argue it’s obvious enough you don’t have to tear your hair out to see it,’ Molander said as he put his reading glasses on and started flipping through his papers.

‘Good,’ Klippan said. ‘Has anyone other than Ingvar been paying attention?’

‘Klippan, come on,’ Lilja said on a tired exhalation. ‘Can we save the quizzes for the Christmas party and do our jobs instead?’

‘Ingvar even gave you a clue. But all right.’ Klippan took out and passed around one of the crime scene photographs, in which Lennart Andersson could be seen lying on his back in a pool of blood with a meat fork implanted next to his nasal bone. ‘Now do you see?’

Fabian and the others nodded, instantly identifying the clue Klippan had referred to.

In the picture on the paused screen, the victim appeared to have thick hair covering his entire head. But in the post mortem picture, most of the hair, other than some on the sides, was missing.

‘He wore a toupee?’ Tuvesson said.

‘Looks like,’ Klippan replied.

‘So you’re saying the perpetrator took it with him.’

‘It’s a possibility.’

‘You’re thinking about Molly Wessman’s cut-off fringe,’ Fabian put in.

‘Exactly. Maybe there’s a connection.’

‘What kind of connection would that be?’ Tuvesson wanted to know. ‘Apart from the hair, there are no similarities whatsoever.’

‘I don’t know.’ Klippan shrugged. ‘Maybe the victims knew each other? Maybe they were connected to the perpetrator in different ways. Or maybe they simply—’

‘You’d do better to stop there,’ Molander said, taking his glasses off just as the phone vibrated again in Lilja’s hand. ‘Because there’s no connection. Not even with the hair.’

‘What, you found the toupee?’

Molander nodded. ‘Apparently, it had slid under the counter. Sorry, Klippan. Didn’t mean to rain on your parade.’

‘Don’t worry about it. It was just a theory.’

You disgusting little Jew cunt. Let’s see how cocky you are when we’ve fucked every hole you have bloody. When we’ve pissed on you and fisted you so hard with our knives there’s not a drop of Jew blood left in you. Then we’ll see how much your police badge can help you.

P.S. I hope you like your new lawn.

‘Irene, what’s the matter?’ Tuvesson said. ‘Are you okay?’

Lilja looked up from her phone. ‘I’m just a bit tired.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely. Let’s keep going so we can wrap this up sometime today.’