Karl grins.

‘Of course. No, I’d bet a lot of money his phone went the same way as the murder weapon. At least we should be able to get call lists from his service provider in due course. Finally,’ he suddenly exclaims and turns his attention to their waiter.

Karen studies the steaming bowls being set down in front of them. This may be a dive, she muses, breathing in the smell of clams, cod, sugar kelp and garlic, but they certainly seem to know their way around fish soup. Before the waiter has even left, she has torn off a piece of black bread and shoved it into her mouth. They eat quickly and voraciously, burning their tongues on the soup and cooling them back down with small sips of lager. Ten minutes later, Karen leans back in her chair and looks out the window.

‘So what did you get up to while I was in Ravenby?’ Karl asks. ‘And what was the matter with you last night?’

‘I’ve started going through Fredrik Stuub’s computer,’ Karen replies, ignoring the second question. ‘There are some documents and old emails I’d like you to have a look at.’

Karl mops up the last of his soup with a piece of bread and puts it in his mouth.

‘Oh yeah? What are they about?’ he replies without swallowing first.

‘He seems to have been a querulant, our good old Mr Stuub. Be that as it may, he has, as Byle informed us, spent a lot of time writing letters to newspapers and local politicians. He was unhappy about the ferry’s weekend timetable, he objected to the decision to instate a fee for using the recycling station in Valby, he complained about the police’s inept efforts to curb the resulting fly-tipping – and then there was a large number of rambling jeremiads about speeding and vandalism, particularly the vandalism of the Gudheim ship setting. There are some older emails, too, addressed to his daughter, as well as some of her replies.’

‘Ulrika? Gabriel’s mother who died of hepatitis?’

‘Yes, and they make for pretty sad reading. I haven’t had time to go through all of it, but Fredrik was clearly beside himself about her illness and suggested all kinds of alternative treatments. It’s odd that he and Gabriel don’t seem to have been close. But maybe Gabriel was right. Maybe Fredrik went a bit doddery when Ulrika died.’

‘Or maybe losing his child made him scared to let people in. That happens, doesn’t it?’

There is a long pause.

Could Sigrid have told him? Karen wonders while she casts about for something to say. Last night, after I went up to my room. No, she would never . . .

The only sound is the clattering of plates from the kitchen. Time stands still.

‘What do you know?’ she manages after a while.