Linda’s version largely overlapped with what they’d been told by Karin Benke. The Metropolitan Police had questioned Beata’s friends, colleagues and members of her family, and had built up a picture of her life. At first everything had seemed promising for Beata and the man who later became her husband. He was the best boyfriend ever. The change took place at some point during the first year of their marriage. According to her friends, Beata had started to behave differently, pushing away those who were close to her. She wasn’t very successful; they thought too much of her to accept it.

‘So one day she was confronted by a small group of her friends. They eventually managed to get the truth out of her: Richard was controlling every aspect of her life. He beat her and threatened her, and the situation was rapidly deteriorating. However, she felt trapped, unable to get away from him no matter how hard she tried. One of the friends contacted Beata’s family, told them what was going on. You can imagine how they reacted.’

There.

The detail Alex had been waiting for without realising.

‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘How did they react?’

Linda made a dramatic gesture, spreading her arms wide.

‘They were distraught. Furious. Her parents were very well off, as you probably know. They came storming over to London, did everything they could to help their daughter. But you know how it is – some things just can’t be fixed.’

Ain’t that the truth, Alex thought. So the question is – what do you do instead?

He suddenly felt grateful that Ivan had set up this meeting.

‘You said they did everything they could – what exactly does that mean?’ Fredrika asked.

‘They talked to Richard, tried to get him to let Beata go. But he had her in a grip of iron, which Karin and Malcolm found incredibly frustrating. The thing is, he could be so sweet, so loving. Beata forgave him over and over again, with the result that she became smaller and smaller in every sense of the word. It was so difficult for those around her; she would ask for help, then immediately withdraw when anyone attempted to get close.’

‘Did her parents contact the police?’

‘Yes. They asked for help and advice just a few months before she was murdered, but Beata refused to cooperate, insisted she didn’t need any support. Out of pure fear, I should think. The police frightened her more than anything else. And then the call came in to say she’d been found dead at home, and it turned into a murder investigation.’

The way such situations often ended – no one needed to put it into words.

‘Who found her?’ Alex realised he had slid too far down and shuffled to adjust his position. The shiny sofa was unforgivably ugly; he wondered where the hell they’d found it. No doubt tight-fisted Margareta Berlin was somehow responsible . . .