She couldn’t help a faint blush rising to her cheeks.

I have to tell him. I have to tell him what’s on my mind. But not now. Another day.

‘What can you tell us about your ex-husband’s life?’ Alex said. ‘Were you close?’

‘No.’

‘But maybe you met up through your son?’ Fredrika asked.

‘No. We preferred not to have any contact whatsoever.’

‘I understand.’ Alex sounded surprisingly empathetic.

Fredrika moved on to Beata. ‘I believe your daughter lived in London?’

Karin’s face closed down, trying to conceal the way she felt.

‘That’s right.’

‘How long was she there?’

‘Many years. She was at university there for four years, then she got a job.’

‘So altogether . . . ?’ Alex prompted her.

‘Twelve years.’

‘What did she study?’ Fredrika asked.

‘Languages – Latin and English. She worked as a teacher at a grammar school in East London.’

‘Her husband was British – was that why she stayed in the city?’

Things were getting more difficult now. Karin was a woman who gave the impression of being in control most of the time, but grief and horror are not so easily subjugated. Fredrika knew that, and so did Karin.

‘I think so. On the other hand, there was no mention of her moving back to Sweden even before she met him. She loved London.’

‘Was her husband also a teacher?’

‘No, he was a stockbroker.’

It struck Fredrika that she didn’t refer to him by name; Karin’s son-in-law was ‘he’ and nothing else. She thought about the ring on Malcolm Benke’s little finger. Forensics had already established that there were no prints on it – not Benke’s or anyone else’s.

‘What was he like?’ Fredrika pushed a little harder, keeping her voice quiet. ‘Your son-in-law Richard, what was he like?’

Karin looked as if she was about to get to her feet, but remained seated.

‘He was horrible. Really horrible.’

She didn’t say any more. Horrible. A word Fredrika’s children liked to use, frequently and sometimes at full volume.

‘You’re HORRIBLE!’ her son would roar when Fredrika refused to buy him sweets in the supermarket.

Alex also reacted to Karin’s choice of word.

‘Horrible in what way?’ he said.

Karin’s face changed again, but this time it wasn’t sorrow they could see in her eyes. She was angry – furious, in fact. She took a deep breath; she seemed to have a problem forcing the air out of her lungs.

‘Horrible,’ she repeated. ‘That’s the best way of describing him. Everything Richard did was horrible, everything had an ulterior motive. We didn’t realise to start with, and nor did Beata. He was totally dysfunctional. He changed jobs as often as the rest of us change our underwear. And then there were all his ridiculous so-called investments. Money disappeared at an alarming rate, first from their joint account and then from Beata’s own account.’

‘So he was manipulative,’ Alex commented.