‘You’re not allowed to park here,’ Ivan pointed out.

‘Right.’ She got out of the car, yanked open the shop door and was overwhelmed by the smell of dust and old books. She usually loved books, she’d spent thousands of hours in libraries when she was growing up. So many good habits, lost over the years.

‘Are you Jan?’ she heard Ivan say. He was talking to an elderly gentleman with his glasses perched on the end of his nose.

‘I am.’

Fredrika wondered if Ivan had realised the same as she had.

The man was blind. Why he was wearing glasses she had no idea; he couldn’t see a thing.

Fuck.

Ivan hesitated.

‘My name is Ivan Nilsson, and this is my colleague Fredrika Bergman. I’m the one who called you about Morgan Sander.’

Jan nodded eagerly and held out his hand. Fredrika shook it first, then Ivan.

‘That was the strangest thing! I mean, we don’t even have those books on display; they were in a box up in the loft. They’d been there ever since Father died.’

‘You’re Morgan Sander’s son, not his grandson?’ Fredrika said.

Jan raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m much too old to be Morgan’s grandson.’

‘I must have misunderstood when we spoke.’ Ivan glanced at Fredrika, wanting to bring the conversation to a close as quickly as possible. This was a waste of time.

‘When did you first meet the man who wanted to buy the books?’ Fredrika asked.

‘He came in one day towards the end of June, after Midsummer. I remember him well; he had a very pleasant voice. He called first, asked about the books. When I told him I’d be happy to sell him five, he was absolutely delighted.’

‘So how many copies did you have to begin with? Before you sold those five?’

Fredrika instinctively liked the old man. There was nothing devious about him; he was honest and straightforward.

‘Ten, but we wanted to keep the other five.’

Fredrika looked around. The shop was quiet; there was no sign of anyone else.

‘You said “we”. Who else works here?’

Jan laughed. ‘My son and I run the business. I had poor eyesight for many, many years, but when I went blind two years ago I couldn’t manage on my own. He’ll be back soon – he’s just popped out.’

‘Did your son meet the man who bought the books?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Did he say why he wanted them?’ Ivan asked.

‘Not exactly. He said he needed them for his wife. I assumed she was some kind of collector. It’s not my place to poke around in other people’s private affairs.’

Fredrika smiled. ‘Of course not.’ She thought about what Jan had just said: the man needed the books for his wife. For his wife?