A man and a woman were sitting at the end of a long table on the patio, engaged in quiet conversation, with the light of a small lantern between them. When they spotted the trio crossing the lawn, they fell silent.

Stava said good evening, but was given no greeting in return.

The man and the woman stared at the little ghost limping up to the edge of the illuminated pool.

‘You look like you’re having a nice time,’ Stava said and climbed the stairs to the patio. ‘Could we have some wine too?’

‘What?’

‘Could we have some wine too?’

The man got to his feet.

‘We were actually in the middle of a conversation here …’

‘Yes, it looks lovely. Anders, come sit down!’

‘No, hold on here now.’

Stava had already pulled out a chair and sat down. Anders snuck up with the blanket-wrapped rifle in his arms. He didn’t quite know where he was and what they were doing there, so he wanted to stay close to Stava. There was a pain behind one of his eyes and he had started shaking his head again. When he put his bundle down on the table, the barrel of the rifle peeked out, which elicited a strangled noise from the old lady. The man was still standing up. An older man in a tennis shirt.

‘Are you home alone?’ Stava said.

‘What do you want?’

‘Are you home alone?’

‘Yes, we are.’

‘Sit down.’

The man sat down just as Ransu stepped up onto the patio, hiding his hideous face like a leprous pilgrim. There were a lot of planters full of geraniums at the end of the patio; he squatted down next to them like a sentinel.

‘What’s your name?’ Stava said.

‘Torgny.’

‘And you?’

‘Yvonne.’

‘Are you home alone?’

‘Our daughter is upstairs,’ the woman said. ‘And her boyfriend.’

‘So there’s four of you in the house?’

She nodded.

‘And there’s no one else on the premises? Some Polish person shovelling shit and living in a shed?’

Torgny shook his head.

‘How many horses do you have?’

‘Do you mean in the stable or how many are ours?’

‘How many are yours.’

‘Fourteen.’

‘Are they pacers?’

‘Yes, we have pacers.’

‘Flat racers?’

‘Yes, some.’

‘Do they win?’

‘From time to time.’

He nodded.

‘So you must be pretty well off then?’

‘No, not particularly.’

‘I suppose it’s all relative.’

The man said nothing.

‘Isn’t it?’

He nodded.

‘How much money do you have in your safe?’

‘We don’t have a safe.’

‘Sure, but how much money is in it?’

The man was quiet for a while.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Ballpark.’

‘Maybe fifty.’

‘Fifty thousand?’

He nodded.

‘That’s not a lot.’

‘No.’

‘Maybe you could spare it?’

‘Yes.’

‘What’s the code?’

It was buried deep, but in the end he reeled off six numbers.

‘That’s your daughter’s birthday, isn’t it?’