But she couldn’t any more. The shock had sunk its claws deep enough into her that the only thing she could manage was to sit on a stool, staring at the wall. Granted, the wall wasn’t completely uninteresting; apart from her own shadow, which reappeared every time one of Molander’s assistants snapped a picture, there were a few scratched-in swastikas and racist slogans, though they seemed too time-worn to have anything to do with the murder.

This was the first time she had ever found herself unable to look at a murder victim. Even for a moment.

Because it wasn’t just a body. It was an eleven-year-old boy with a beautiful name, a jacket with Spiderman buttons, friends and a life just waiting to be lived. A boy who had been asked to carry a bag of empty bottles to the recycling room on his way to school. But he had never made it there. Instead, someone had attacked him and dragged him down to the laundry room.

She was still having a hard time taking in the details of the course of events, although the words coming from Molander and his two assistants were clear enough.

‘Ingvar, listen, I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this.’

‘Fredrik, if you want to talk about your feelings, call your therapist or your girlfriend,’ Molander said, sounding as dry and matter-of-fact as ever. ‘We have to focus on getting this body out. Or are you saying we should leave him here and just let the residents go about their business?’

‘No, but I honestly don’t know how we’re going to do it. Not without damaging the body even more.’

‘All right.’ Molander sighed; his knees cracked when he squatted down. ‘My suggestion is that we simply disconnect the whole drum and open it up with an angle grinder. What kind of feelings do you have about that?’

‘So this is where you’re hiding.’

Lilja turned around to see Klippan in the doorway, and everything suddenly felt a little better.

‘How are you getting on?’ he continued as Molander’s assistants removed the back of the washer and went to work with screw guns.

‘For obvious reasons, getting him out is a bit tricky.’ Molander got back up and stretched out his back. ‘But it’s dogged as does it.’

‘What do you mean? Is there more than one reason?’ Lilja said, primarily to show that she had snapped back in.

‘You can say that again. To be exact, about fifteen hundred rpms.’

‘Bloody hell…’ Klippan shook his head. ‘It’s enough to make you start wondering where this world’s heading.’