‘Was far enough down, so it’s intact. We just opened up the area around her head and shoulders to get an idea of who she might be.’

Fredrika rubbed her hands over her knees. People’s inventiveness never ceased to amaze her. However, it was hardly surprising. If man could travel to the moon, then obviously he could come up with a million different ways to murder and degrade his fellow human beings.

‘How did she die?’

‘We don’t know yet,’ said a voice behind Alex and Fredrika.

Renata Rashid, the medical examiner, was holding her mobile phone. Her voice was so hoarse that many people assumed she’d smoked like a chimney for most of her life, which was incorrect. Her vocal cords had been damaged by throat cancer over twenty years ago. Fredrika knew this only because Alex had told her; Renata herself gave away very little about her private life.

Like me, Fredrika thought. Like me.

‘I’ll have a better idea when I’ve taken a closer look at her. The way things are now, I can’t make any kind of assessment.’

Alex nodded to show that he understood.

‘I wanted Fredrika to see this before we moved her. She’s all yours now.’

It was Renata’s turn to nod.

‘Do we have any idea how long she’s been here?’ Fredrika asked.

‘She was probably buried during the night. The court was in use until around nine o’clock yesterday evening.’

Fredrika straightened up.

‘I’d like to make a start,’ Renata said.

Alex and Fredrika automatically stepped back. Nobody wanted to get in Renata’s way.

Fredrika gazed down at the dead woman and her grave.

‘Didn’t the guy on the mower see what was sticking up?’

‘Obviously not,’ Alex replied.

‘So what did the surface look like when you arrived?’

‘It was pretty creepy, to be honest. Everything had been done with absolute precision. The grass was perfect; there was no sign of damage.’

‘How on earth did he or she manage that?’

‘It’s something we need to look into,’ Alex said. ‘The grass court is fairly new, so maybe it’s easy to take up the turf and replace it. Or just put it back.’

Fredrika knew absolutely nothing about grass or gardening. Spencer would have liked to move from their apartment to a house, but Fredrika had vetoed the idea with some force. He might as well have suggested relocating to Ulan Bator.

‘Why were we meant to find her here?’ she wondered. ‘There’s something ritualistic about the way she’s arranged.’

Alex had to agree. Lovisa Wahlberg lay in the ground as if she’d been crucified, directly on the central line of the court. The net had been taken down because of the mowing, but if it was put back up it would run straight across her hips.

‘Wasn’t there some trouble about this court?’ he said.

‘I don’t remember.’