She left Jeppe on the herringbone-patterned parquet flooring to simultaneously admire the crystal chandelier and ignore the curious looks from the people on the sofas while she conferred with her boss. After a long minute she returned and pointed the way to Henrik’s office. She didn’t look happy.

Neither did Henrik.

When Jeppe walked in, he was closing the door to an adjoining office, looking peevishly at Jeppe as if he was interrupting him in the middle of something important. He locked the door to the other room and took a seat behind a black lacquered desk, his eyes narrow with disapproval.

“Haven’t we been through enough? This last week has been hell, our son is still in the hospital. When can we finally have some peace?”

Jeppe pulled out an upholstered velour chair and sat down.

“I’ll try to make it snappy.”

A cell phone lit up on the lacquered desktop with Malin’s name on the screen. Henrik glanced briefly at Jeppe and then answered it.

“Hi, honey… No, I haven’t heard from her.” He spun his chair to face the other direction and lowered his voice. “She probably went for a bike ride after school, you know how she is. Don’t assume the worst, honey. The police are here. I have to run.” He hung up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Essie’s late,” Henrik said, shaking his head. “My wife must have forgotten a playdate in all the confusion. It’s nothing.”

“Does Essie have her own cell phone?”

“No, we think she’s still too young.” Henrik picked up a pen from the desk and jammed it down into the heel of one ankle boot, scratching. “Your question?”

“Where were you on Friday night?”

Henrik groaned.

“I was home with my family, we’ve told you this a thousand times. I know you’re just doing your job and that you’re investigating a tragic death, but honestly I have other things to think about right now. And that poor teacher’s death doesn’t have anything to do with my son or my business.”

“You see, that’s where we disagree,” Jeppe said. “Can I tell you what I think?”

Henrik waved his hand impatiently.

“Kasper Skytte’s colleagues are preparing a police report as we speak,” Jeppe said, and leaned on the desk, decreasing the distance between them. “It probably won’t be long before you hear from the police department.”

Henrik met his eyes unflinchingly.

“Late Thursday afternoon you sent Kasper an email saying that someone you referred to as he was going to blab. You wrote that you would take care of it.”

Henrik got up and walked over to a low brass table with a bowl full of fruit on it.

“Apple?” he offered.

Jeppe declined with a shake of his head. Henrik took a red apple and polished it on his sleeve.

“The question is, who was going to blab?”