B0031RSBSM EBOK

ready to go. We probably left around eight,” she told him, sniffling loudly.
    “What did you do when you got there?”
    “We unpacked in the guesthouse that they have on their property. Then we watched a little TV and went to bed.”
    “What about the next day?”
    “We went to the beach and spent the whole day there. Me, my mother, and the kids. The weather was so nice.”
    “And in the evening?”
    “We had a barbecue and sat outside, drinking a little wine. The kids and my parents watched a movie after dinner. They didn’t want to come with me to the pub. Smaklösa was playing. They’re one of my favorite bands. I thought it would be a good distraction after everything that had happened.”
    “So you went alone?”
    “Yes.”
    “Can anyone vouch for the fact that you were there?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe the bartender. I’ve seen him before.”
    “Do you know his name?”
    Susanna Mellgren thought for a few seconds.
    “His name is Stefan.”
    “And his last name?”
    She shook her head.
    “How long did you stay there?”
    “I listened to the band, and they played for at least two hours. Everyone was in a great mood, and people started requesting songs. Then I sat outside for a while and had a glass of wine. It was such a hot evening, and I felt the need to be alone. I probably stayed for about three hours.”
    “When did you get back?”
    “Hm … when was it? Maybe ten or eleven.”
    “And you went home alone?”
    “Yes.”
    “This may seem like a strange question, but what size shoe do you wear?”
    Susanna looked at Knutas in surprise.
    “Size eight.”

WEDNESDAY, JULY 28
    WHEN KNUTAS WOKE up the next morning, he was so anxious to see what the press had found out about the murder of Staffan Mellgren that he could hardly wait to get to the office. He said a silent prayer that the media hadn’t gotten wind of the ritualistic elements this time, either. His cell phone had started ringing right after the story was reported on the evening broadcast of Regional News, when Johan Berg referred to several independent sources who had confirmed that the two murder victims had been having an affair. Out of pure self-preservation Knutas had turned off his cell after the third call. The police spokesman, Lars Norrby, was the only one who had to be available to the media. Knutas had had a long conversation with him last night, and they had agreed on what would be appropriate to reveal. Among other things, the police would not mention anything about a possible relationship between Martina Flochten and Staffan Mellgren. At 6:00 A.M. he listened to the financial news, which fortunately didn’t mention anything about a ritual murder or a relationship between Martina and Staffan. Knutas sat down at his computer and looked up the online editions of the newspapers. When the front page of the evening papers appeared on his screen, he sighed.
    At the top of both papers were two big photographs—one of Martina Flochten and one of Staffan Mellgren. On one of the papers a red heart had been drawn around the photos.
    This can’t be true
, thought Knutas, as he clicked to move on. The big headlines worried him: KILLED FOR THEIR LOVE and POLICE SUSPECT JEALOUSY DRAMA . The articles that followed were full of endless speculations. Most of them were based on the Regional News report from the night before. It was disastrous for the investigation, and he silently wondered who had helped Johan Berg to track down this lead. Ignoring the fact that it was only six thirty in the morning, he punched in the reporter’s phone number.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked tersely when he heard Johan’s sleepy voice on the other end of the line.
    “Who is this?” asked Johan defiantly.
    “This is Detective Superintendent Anders Knutas, as if you didn’t know. How could you broadcast sensitive information like that in your report last night without talking to me first? Don’t you realize that you’re sabotaging the whole investigation?”
    “I can’t very well be responsible for your investigation. I got the information confirmed, and it’s of such great interest that of course we wanted to make it public. Two murders have occurred within a matter of a few weeks, and then it turns out that the victims were having a secret affair. People are terrified because the murderer is still on the loose. So of course the story was too important—it had to be told.”
    Johan held back his anger as he