Karen smiles. Some of the stiff wariness this man of the cloth initially inspired in her has eased since he changed out of his ruff and cassock. Besides, it’s almost one o’clock and she really is hungry.

‘Well, then how can I refuse?’ she says. ‘I have a weak spot for rowanberries.’

Erling Arve puts the pot on the hob and opens one of the cupboards above the kitchen counter.

‘So what did you want to talk to me about?’ he asks as he gets out two plates.

‘I want you to tell me everything you know,’ she replies calmly, ‘about Fredrik – and above all, whether you can think of anyone who might want to see him dead. And I want you to tell me everything you know about his grandson.’

Arve puts the plates and two glasses down on the table. Slowly, as if playing for time, he lays out cutlery and paper napkins.

‘You realise I’m constrained by clergy privilege?’ he says.

‘I’m just asking you to tell me what you’ve gathered as a private citizen, not to divulge any confidences given to you in your professional role. Though as far as I’m concerned, feel free to do that, too,’ she adds with a smile.

Erling Arve returns to the hob. With his back toward her, he stirs the pot slowly and methodically, once again seemingly stalling for time.

‘Start with Fredrik,’ she says. ‘Surely his priest-penitent privilege has expired?’

‘Not at all. Death changes nothing as far as that’s concerned. But at any rate,’ he says and turns around, ‘Fredrik was hardly the type to confide in me. Unlike his sister, he wasn’t particularly God-fearing. I’m not even sure he believed in God. But I guess that’s to be expected, given his profession.’

‘As a teacher, you mean? Surely there are lots of deeply religious teachers out there. At least, my own memories from school would suggest there are.’

Unfortunately, she adds inwardly, recalling her class teacher in secondary school.

He lets out a brief chuckle.

‘Sure, but Fredrik Stuub wasn’t some village primary school teacher. He taught biology at the university in Ravenby and I hardly think what he taught was particularly compatible with Genesis.’

She makes no reply but returns his smile.

Erling Arve takes out a trivet and puts the steaming pot on the table.

‘Please,’ he says, ‘help yourself.’

While they eat in silence, Karen marvels inwardly at the priest’s many non-clerical skills: deer hunting, mushroom picking and jam-making.

‘That being said,’ Arve continues after a while and wipes his mouth, ‘I don’t think biology was really at the forefront of Fredrik’s mind after he retired. What he did take an interest in was Noorö’s history.’

Karen looks at him attentively and keeps chewing.