It takes almost four minutes and as many rings of the doorbell to get Gabriel Stuub to the door and another three seconds for Karen to conclude that the man standing before her is not just drowsy but also tremendously hungover. His strawberry blond hair is flat against one side of his face and sticking straight out on the other, his eyes are swollen and squinting against the light. The stale reek of last night’s booze wafts out of his mouth when he makes a half-hearted attempt at stifling a yawn. His chest is bare and clearly the result of hours of weightlifting. He tries to button his hastily pulled on jeans with one hand while clutching a mobile phone in the other.

‘Good morning,’ Karen says with a broad smile. ‘We’re from the police. May we come in?’

Gabriel Stuub turns without a word and leads them into the house. Byle closes the front door and they follow him through the hallway to the living room in silence. It looks much as Karen expected. Two black leather sofas, a glass coffee table and a recliner with a footstool, bookshelves filled with knick-knacks and model cars, boats and aeroplanes next to a handful of books and photographs. Karen and Byle choose opposite ends of one of the sofas.

Gabriel is just about to slump into the recliner when he changes his mind and instead walks quickly back toward the hallway. Byle is about to follow, but Karen stops him with a shake of her head. Even if Gabriel is planning to make a run for it, at this particular moment, he clearly has more pressing concerns.

She pulls out her notebook, rolls her eyes at Byle, studies her cuticles and bites off a hangnail while they patiently listen to the retching coming from the bathroom. After a few minutes they hear the flush of the toilet, a running tap, a door opening, heavy steps, the sound of the fridge door opening followed by the hiss of a bottle cap, and then Gabriel Stuub appears in the kitchen doorway, now with wet, slicked-back hair and a can of sports drink in his hand.

‘Can we start?’ Karen asks with a smile.

Gabriel slowly lowers himself into the recliner and puts his feet up on the footstool. Leans back and takes a sip out of the can.

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘What do you want?’

‘As I’m sure you’ve figured out, we’re here in connection with your grandfather’s death. Let me start by offering my condolences.’

Gabriel nods mutely.

‘First, we need some information about you.’