‘Thinking now about Christmas Day. You mentioned you went to the early morning service and were worried when Fredrik didn’t turn up.’

‘To be clear, I wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t there. He liked to arrive at the last minute which meant sitting in the back. Isn’t that right?’

She looks at Erling Arve, who nods confirmation.

‘Yes, we usually have a full house at the early morning Christmas Day service, if at no other time,’ he says, and Karen picks up on a hint of bitterness in his voice.

Apparently, church attendance is down even on Noorö. And yet, Arve probably has a larger congregation at his services than the priests on Heimö, she muses, remembering her mother’s words. ‘They made plenty of moonshine in those sheds of theirs, but everyone had to say grace and go to church every Sunday, without fail.’

‘And after the service, when you realised he wasn’t there, you decided to try to find your brother?’

‘Yes, I tried to call him from home more than once. I suppose I figured he’d just overslept. To be completely honest, I was mostly looking to give him a piece of my mind about missing the service. But when he didn’t answer, I started to feel worried and decided to go over on my bike.’

‘Your bike?’ Karen says, unable to hide her surprise.

The broken-down creature sitting in front of her now apparently has unsuspected reservoirs of strength when not devastated by grief. She’s probably considerably younger than she looks.

‘Well, there’s hardly any snow, you know, so it was no problem, otherwise I would have taken the kicksled. Straight across the fens, it’s just a few minutes, though you do have to get off and walk it across the bridge.’

‘And you got to Fredrik’s house. Did you go inside?’

‘Of course I went inside,’ Gertrud says, seemingly baffled by the question. ‘I knocked first, of course, but then I entered. That’s how we do things around here.’

Out of the corner of Karen can see Byle leaning forward, as aware as she is of how important this question is.

‘Was there anything different about his house?’ Karen asks casually. ‘Did you notice anything unusual?’

‘No, like what? He hadn’t tidied up, of course, never did; a used coffee cup on the kitchen table and the butter was still sitting out on the counter, but there’s nothing unusual about that. Fredrik was like that.’

‘Did you look for him in the house?’

Gertrud looks puzzled.

‘No, why would I have? I could tell straight away he’d gone out; the lead wasn’t on the hook in the hallway.’

She turns to look at the dog still sitting by her feet, reaches out with her free hand and strokes its silky fur. The other hand stays on the Bible.