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from there. First stop was the nature preserve of Högklint, just south of Visby. From there they would have a wonderful view of the city and the sea. Next would be the Botanical Gardens and a stroll inside the wall. The tour would end at the East Gate, when the tourists would be free to have lunch and go shopping on their own.
    She welcomed the visitors, and before the bus had even reached the coast road heading for Högklint, she had already started telling them about Visby’s history. The tourist groups were all strangely similar. Americans were positive, full of questions, and fascinated by anything that was more than a hundred years old. When she told them that the ring wall had been built in the thirteenth century, they all looked amazed.
    The bus stopped as close to Högklint as possible. Americans were not known to be a people fond of walking, and several in the group were seriously overweight. An older man used a cane, and he seemed to have a great deal of trouble getting around.
    Mathilda was already dreading the walk through Visby’s cobblestone streets. She waited until everyone was off the bus and then led the way up the little hill toward the overlook.
    When Matilda later had to recount what she saw on that morning, she had a hard time remembering the order in which everything occurred. She had a strong memory of the cheerful chatter of the group and of the man from Wisconsin who ended up walking beside her, asking a hundred questions about everything from the average income in Sweden to where Ingmar Bergman had lived on Gotland. He also wanted to know who the Swedes thought had murdered Olof Palme. There was always one of those in each group, someone who showed up and asked tons of questions in private, draining her energy. Afterward she recalled how she had tried to evade his questions, explaining to him that she would answer them later in front of the whole group, so that everyone could hear. The man didn’t seem to get the message. He kept on asking questions.
    The group gathered at the top of the slope and enjoyed the magnificent view of Visby and the dramatic coastline.
    The plateau was 165 feet above the sea, and the cliffs dropped straight down to the foaming waves far below. Here the wind almost never stopped blowing. Matilda told the tourists about the ledge a short distance below the precipice that was called the Starving Goat Ledge. Goats that managed to climb down to eat the succulent grass down there were never able to get back up. Eventually they starved to death. Some of the tourists braved the steep stairs and made their way, with varying degrees of success, down to the place where the goats met their grim fate. Others chose a more comfortable alternative and made their way over to the grove of trees a short distance inland. From there they could enjoy the view in the shelter of the trees.
    Suddenly a hair-raising scream was heard. For a few seconds Matilda was afraid that someone had fallen from the precipice, but the cry had come from the grove of trees. She rushed over there—and she would never forget the sight that met her eyes.
    The naked body of a man was hanging from a tree, dangling lifelessly from a noose. Someone had used a knife to slice open his belly, and the blood had run down his legs and onto the ground. When Matilda saw his face and his wide-open eyes staring down at her, she recognized him at once.

 
    Twenty minutes after the call came in to police headquarters, Knutas and Jacobsson climbed out of their car at Högklint. Without uttering a word, they made their way through the crowd of agitated tourists, who had been given a sightseeing tour far beyond the usual fare. Police officers were cordoning off the area. More tourist buses had arrived, only to be stopped in the parking lot by officers who ordered them to turn around and drive off. No explanation was given. The astonished guides and their drivers did as they were told without getting any answers to their questions. Knutas heard in passing how some people were murmuring about suicide; it was not an unlikely theory. Högklint was a place that was regularly used by people wanting to kill themselves.
    As they reached the plateau, Sohlman, Wittberg, and Kihlgård came up to join them. From a distance they could see the body as it swung freely in the air with the glittering sea and the cornflower-blue sky in the background. Knutas slowly shook his head as he recognized every single sign from the previous