Chapters (92)
- Cover
- Maps
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Chapter 70
- Chapter 71
- Chapter 72
- Chapter 73
- Chapter 74
- Chapter 75
- Chapter 76
- Chapter 77
- Chapter 78
- Chapter 79
- Chapter 80
- Chapter 81
- Chapter 82
- Chapter 83
- Chapter 84
- Chapter 85
- Chapter 86
- Epilogue
- About the Author
The so-called parlour turns out to be a living room with oat-coloured sofas and an impressive art collection on the walls, while the rest of the décor looks like it’s from the late-nineteenth century. The Groths have indulged in a few modernisations, Karen notes, looking around, but most of the features seem to have been preserved from when the house was first built. The architecture exudes the same fin-de-siècle spirit as William Tryste’s office in the distillery building.
They sit down, the Groths in one of the two sofas, Karen in the other.
‘Do you live alone in this wing?’ she asks.
‘Yes, and really, it’s much too big since the children moved out,’ Björn Groth replies. ‘But it’s tradition for the owner of the distillery to live here.’
‘We’re actually the third generation,’ his wife adds. ‘Björn’s grandfather started the company.’
‘But I believe your daughter lives in Gudheimby, is that right?’
‘Yes, but Madeleine is a silent partner. She and her husband Elias run a real estate company in Ravenby, so there’s no point in them living out here. And a modern house would undeniably be more comfortable than this draughty old manor for us, too. But, tradition is tradition.’
Laura Groth speaks very clearly but sounds a bit forced.
‘And your son, Jens? His title, is it Head of Sales?’
Björn Groth nods. ‘That’s right. He and his wife live here, in the other wing. Sandra is probably asleep, but I think Jens is in his office.’
‘Sandra has come down with a fever and a terrible headache,’ Laura Groth explains in a worried voice. ‘I’m afraid she’s caught the flu and I honestly don’t know if she’s in any state to talk . . .’
She trails off.
‘We’ll see,’ Karen replies evasively. ‘We’re probably going to have to talk to some of you more than once. But right now, I just want to ask you and your husband some basic questions.’
She’s met with solemn nods and continues.
‘Let’s start with the reason you threw such a big party.’
Björn Groth clears his throat and runs a hand through his brown hair.
‘Well, with everything that’s happened, I feel weird saying it, but we wanted to celebrate, simply put. The company is going to see a lot of changes this year and it’s important to us that our employees feel part of that.’
‘As you know, this is a family business and loyalty is important to us,’ Laura Groth adds. ‘Several of our employees have been with us for over twenty years.’
‘How many employees do you have?’
‘Whiskey-making is largely seasonal, at least if you do it in the traditional way. At peak times, we employ fourteen people in addition to Jens and myself.’
‘And I’m told a number of those employees were here last night with their partners.’