‘I think I would have done if he’d been planning a trip. We have a very good relationship, Henry and I. We meet up on a regular basis, maybe once a week. I saw him last Thursday, and he didn’t say a word about going away.’

‘I don’t suppose you have a key to his apartment?’

‘I do, but I wouldn’t give it to a stranger. What do you want it for?’

Vendela raked her nails down her cheek. She couldn’t put it off any longer.

‘We think . . . we think there might be a problem in Henry’s apartment.’

‘What kind of problem?’

Vendela took her time, searching for the right words.

‘There’s a terrible smell.’

She spoke very quietly, almost inaudibly, but Henry’s ex-wife heard not only what she’d said, but what she’d left unsaid.

There’s a terrible smell.

I’m afraid that Henry’s dead.

‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

Chapter 10

We’re not going to get much from you. That was Alex’s first thought as he shook Bernhard Benke’s cool hand. Bernhard. What kind of a name was that? Had he come up with it himself when he moved to Vienna? And, more importantly: did he know Lovisa Wahlberg?

Fredrika also seemed underwhelmed by the grieving son. She’d almost burst out laughing when they first saw him. Her cheeks flushed red, and however hard she tried, anyone could see the laughter bubbling up inside her. Alex couldn’t blame her. Bernhard looked as if he’d come straight from filming The Sound of Music. And he smelled of cinnamon. However, Alex was prepared to forgive him everything; he’d made Fredrika smile, albeit unintentionally, and that was something no one else had managed to do recently.

Alex began by offering condolences on the death of Bernhard’s father in such dreadful circumstances. His sympathetic expression provided a sharp contrast to Fredrika’s rather more cheerful approach.

‘So you didn’t arrive in Stockholm until yesterday?’ Alex said.

‘I couldn’t leave Vienna any earlier. I have my own cheese shop in the city centre, with very few staff members.’

He had his own cheese shop. Of course he did. Alex could see the corners of Fredrika’s mouth twitching, and looked away. If she didn’t get a grip she’d start him off.

‘I love cheese,’ Alex said with no idea why.

‘Excuse me.’ Fredrika leapt to her feet, almost knocking the chair over. ‘I have to . . .’ She shot out of the room.

Bernhard stared at the door. ‘Isn’t she feeling well?’

‘She’s fine, she just has to take care of something.’

The room they were in was a cube. The walls and ceiling flowed together in different shades of white, and Bernhard’s green clothing – trousers and jacket – glowed against the pale background.

‘How would you describe your relationship with your father?’

‘Virtually non-existent.’