‘See that wire up by the ceiling?’ Molander gestured towards a point behind him on the right.

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he had no choice but to turn his back on Molander. And there was, indeed, a wire, a completely ordinary white electrical cord running along the right side of the hallway where the wall met the ceiling, before disappearing through a hole.

‘That happens to be a high-speed cable for her broadband. A so-called fibre-optic cable.’

‘Okay. Sure,’ he said, in an attempt to sound interested, as he turned back to Molander.

‘Nothing strange about that. In a few years, everyone will be on a fibre-optic network. But when I noticed where that cable was running, I felt I had to have a closer look. It’s been installed the usual way, by running cable up from the basement, where the hub is, through the lift shaft and from there out to each floor. And to keep installation costs low, the modem and router are usually placed somewhere in the hallway, in a cupboard or some such. But as you see, in this case, they’ve instead run it in through the flat, all the way to the bedroom. They did a good job, too, so we know it wasn’t cheap.’

‘Maybe she wanted the router in the bedroom and was happy to pay extra for it.’ Fabian shrugged. Where was he going with this? What on earth was all this about?

‘Maybe. I’ve certainly always had terrible reception in my bedroom. At least according to Gertrud, who insists on playing Wordfeud in bed half the night.’ He shook his head. ‘But that doesn’t explain why the cable runs through the wall.’ He pointed up at the ceiling to where the cable disappeared through a hole.

‘What’s on the other side?’

‘Precisely, what is on the other side? Finally, we’re getting somewhere.’ Molander tapped his temple. ‘Come with me and see for yourself.’ He backed further into the hallway, past a door that he pushed open with one hand. ‘What are you waiting for? Here, I thought you were really curious.’ Molander beckoned him into the room like he was luring a child with sweets.

Fabian unobtrusively put his hand to his chest to make sure his gun was where it should be before walking up to Molander and looking into the bathroom, which had spotlights in the ceiling, hand-painted tiles at chest level and a toilet, bidet and washbasin lined up along the wall on the right. On the other side was a washer and dryer with a few white plastic buckets on top, and straight ahead, a spacious whirlpool bath. In other words, a lovely upmarket bathroom where nothing seemed out of the ordinary.