It was just after eight, and Alex was already at his desk, exhausted after a sleepless night. He contacted the rest of the team and informed them that there would be a meeting in the Lions’ Den at nine. A few minutes later Fredrika appeared. She didn’t seem as low as the previous day, but nor was she relaxed. There was tension in every line of her body.

She closed the door behind her.

What the hell has happened to you? Alex thought.

He remembered her reaction when she heard that Noah Johansson had been murdered: shock and something resembling consternation.

As if to confirm that he was right to be concerned, she immediately said:

‘Have we heard any more about the funeral director? The murder Berlin told us about yesterday?’

Alex moved a pile of papers that were perfectly fine where they were.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘I was just . . . I thought it might be important because of the way she came rushing in.’

‘Important in what way? Did you know him?’

Alex sounded more brusque than he’d intended, which provoked a reaction from Fredrika.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ she said.

He slammed a drawer shut.

‘I could ask you the same question. I can see there’s a problem. Something’s been wrong for months.’

Suddenly he was afraid; he hadn’t felt that way since he was a child. Why hadn’t he considered the idea that Spencer might have visited a funeral director on behalf of his wife? As he had once done. Lena had wanted everything arranged before she died, so they had met Noah while she was still alive. On at least one occasion Alex had gone to see him alone while Lena was at home.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I . . .’

‘It’s fine.’

But it obviously wasn’t. Alex thought he could see sorrow in her eyes, maybe fear too.

Tell me. Tell me.

The door flew open to reveal Margareta Berlin.

‘Same old same old,’ she said. ‘You two closeting yourselves away with your secrets.’

Alex couldn’t deal with this crap right now. He shot out of his chair and strode towards the door, much to Berlin’s surprised. He shouted so loudly that he almost frightened himself more than her.

‘Out! Get out of here, you mad witch!’

He slammed the door in her face. Had he ever felt this good? He didn’t think so.

‘Waste of fucking space,’ he muttered to himself as he turned around to see Fredrika staring at him, open-mouthed.

‘You’re crazy,’ she said quietly. Then she burst out laughing. Alex laughed too, because he needed the release – not because he felt particularly cheerful. He was still wondering what was wrong with Fredrika.

‘Just let me know if there’s anything I can do,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’

*