Accompanied by Sylvian’s soaring ‘Sunlight Seen through Towering Trees’, Fabian grabbed the handle of the Pavoni portafilter while simultaneously raising the lever to release the hot steam. Then he lowered it again in a slow, smooth motion and soon the coveted drops of espresso began dripping into his cup.

His conversation with Theodor was far from over. The whole thing was so inflamed it was impossible to bring it up without it leading to a big row. At the same time, he had to admit that Theodor was right. If he hadn’t had a gun tucked into the waistband of his trousers on the night Matilda was shot, they would all likely have been killed.

He added foamed milk to his coffee and took the cup with him to the basement, where he continued past the washing machine, the drying rack and the storage shelves behind the curtains he had hung up as a partition.

On the other side a completely different, cosier vibe prevailed. The lighting was warmer and rag rugs made from fabric scraps covered the floor. A threadbare armchair stood next to a floor lamp and an end table in one corner and along the outer wall stood his old desk with the avocado-green drawers, which for some reason he just couldn’t part with. A larger screen was connected to his laptop; in the pool of light from the floor lamp lay an unused notepad, Post-it notes of various hues and a clutch of newly purchased pens.

Sonja had offered him her studio in the attic. But he was convinced she would eventually find her way back to her art and had instead set up his study at the back of the basement. Not to pay bills, surf the web and order takeaway. No, this was a space dedicated to one single purpose. The investigation of his own colleague, Crime Scene Technician Ingvar Molander. It was an investigation their late colleague, Hugo Elvin, had initiated and secretly worked on for years. Now the responsibility was Fabian’s.

Had Elvin’s unexpected death just over a month ago not in fact been suicide but rather the inevitable consequence of having come too close to the truth about Molander? If so, Molander had not only killed his best friend and colleague, he had also arranged a detailed staging of it as a tragic suicide prompted by Elvin’s supposed long-standing gender dysphoria and secret desire to become a woman. He had not only strung him up by a swag hook, he’d put him in a dress and made his face up with lipstick, powder and eye shadow.