Eric Jacobsén was a common name, but only one of them had an income that allowed him to live on Slottsvägen in Laröd, just north of Helsingborg. It was on the right side of Larödvägen, in the old part of town, by the water. Judging from the cars parked in the driveways in front of the houses, Jacobsén wasn’t the only one in the neighbourhood doing well for himself, though it did appear he was slightly ahead of the pack.

There were no fewer than four cars parked in the driveway of number ten. Next to the black van with the Fiberbolaget logo was a large, dark blue Lexus, a shiny red Lamborghini and a well-maintained, pale yellow Volkswagen Beetle.

On the front door was a classic old knocker in the shape of a brass fist, but before Fabian could grab it, the door was thrown open by a broad-shouldered man in a suit and white shirt exiting with a briefcase in his hand.

‘Excuse me, you wouldn’t happen to be Eric Jacobsén, by any chance?’

‘I am.’ The man stopped and gave Fabian a puzzled look. ‘What’s this about?’

‘My name is Fabian Risk, from the Helsingborg Police.’ He held up his ID. ‘Do you have a minute?’

‘Not really.’ The man ran a hand through his blond hair. ‘I’m actually running late for a meeting with a client. Apparently, I’m an incurable time optimist. Can it wait until tomorrow or, even better, the end of the week?’

‘I’m afraid not. But hopefully it won’t take long. Am I right in thinking you were the ones who installed the high-speed broadband on Stuvaregatan down in the North Harbour last autumn?’

‘Probably. We’re hooking up most of north-western Skåne at the moment. But hey, let me make a suggestion. How about you come with me in the car, and we can talk on the way? And in case I don’t have time to drive you back here, which I likely won’t, the taxi’s on me. Win, win, I reckon. What do you say?’

‘All right.’ Fabian climbed into the passenger seat of the van and didn’t even have time to buckle his seat belt before Jacobsén started reversing out of the driveway.

‘First stop, Husensjö, which should give us about fifteen minutes.’ He shifted into first and roared off down the street. ‘Where were we?’

‘Stuvaregatan.’

‘Right.’ Without easing off the accelerator, he connected his phone to a hands-free and dialled a number. After just one ring, a woman answered.

‘Hi Eric. What can I—’

‘Stuvaregatan down in the North Harbour,’ Jacobsén broke in. ‘Would you mind checking if that’s something we’d have on our conscience?’

‘Of course. As soon as I finish the PowerPoint for the board—’

‘No, Lina, right now, please.’