Missing

in a shade like ox-blood.
    Sibylla settled into the huge leather sofa. She was lost in amazement at the glass-topped table in front of the sofa. Its undercarriage was a naked marble woman, lying on her back and balancing the sheet of glass on her raised hands and knees.
    ‘Jörgen imported marble,’ Lena Grundberg explained, adding ‘among other things.’
    Jörgen was clearly part of the past already. Just like that. Lena Grundberg seemed to have read her thoughts.
    ‘I suppose you’d better know from the start that my marriage wasn’t especially happy. We were about to file for a divorce.’
    Sibylla considered this.
    ‘I’m so sorry.’
    ‘It was my initiative.’
    ‘Oh, right. I see.’
    The room fell silent. Sibylla felt a little bemused. What had she imagined she’d gain by coming here? She couldn’t even remember now.
    ‘How long have you been a widow?’
    The question was so sudden she jumped. Pointlessly, she looked at her watch. It had stopped again. She had to say something.
    ‘Six months and four days.’
    ‘What did he die from?’
    ‘Cancer. It was very quick.’
    Lena Grundberg nodded.
    ‘Were you happy?’
    Sibylla looked down at her nails. Thank goodness she hadn’t painted them. She spoke very quietly.
    ‘Yes, very.’ Another moment of silence.
    ‘It’s so strange, you know,’ Lena Grundberg said. ‘Less than a year ago, Jörgen was dying from a serious kidney problem. He was hospitalised for months. Finally they decided that he could live normally again and all would be well for as long as he took his medicine in good order. On the whole, he was OK.’
    She was shaking her head.
    ‘And then he goes and gets himself murdered. After all that trouble. It may sound very cynical to say so, but frankly, it was absolutely typical of him.’
    Sibylla found it hard to hide her surprise.
    ‘How do you mean?’
    Lena Grundberg lifted her eyebrows.
    ‘He was such a lecherous fool. Taking an unknown female to your room like that, honestly – and so ugly too. One look at that photograph was enough to tell you she must be desperate.’
    Stay cool now.
    ‘You sound bitter.’ Sibylla tried to keep her tone neutral.
    ‘Not really. It’s just that I think he could’ve picked someone better looking. I might have felt a little happier if …’
    Her voice cracked suddenly. She was sobbing, hiding her face in her hands. How about that? At least one of the marble sisters was all emotion, once you got through the layers of foundation.
    Considering Lena Grundberg’s outburst, she almost regretted that Jörgen hadn’t been allowed to share her bed. She should’ve let him, from pure human sympathy.
    ‘You wanted him to choose someone who’d begin to match you?’ Sibylla just about managed to control her voice, to keep the irritation out.
    Lena Grundberg recognised the change of tone and tried to pull herself together. Her mouth still hanging open, she wiped the tears away carefully so as not to ruin her mascara.
    ‘Yes, that’s it, you know. It really would’ve helped.’
    Sibylla was looking at the woman opposite her, reflecting that, after all, she’d never met anyone quite like her.
    ‘Why would it have helped?’ She was actually curious to know. ‘After all, you were the one suing for divorce.’
    Now Lena Grundberg was back in charge, leaning back calmly in her vulgar armchair.
    ‘I do realise that it sounds selfish, but it’s humiliating for a woman to be replaced by a complete nobody, an ugly whore picked up in a hotel. It’s so … tasteless.’
    Oh yeah? Hey, what about this room? The inside of my rucksack looks a whole lot better, so don’t sit there and fucking preach about good taste! Sibylla swallowed twice.
    ‘You can’t be sure she was a whore, can you?’
    Lena Grundberg snorted, bent down to pick up an evening paper from the floor and held it out for Sibylla to see. She glanced quickly at the photo of her own face. Surely only the nose was the same.
    ‘How can the police be so sure she’s the killer?’
    Lena Grundberg dropped the paper on the floor.
    ‘They’d gone to see the receptionist together about her room. By the morning, she was gone despite the police cordon. Seems pretty conclusive to me. Her fingerprints were all over the place. Like on Jörgen’s room key.’
    ‘What if it isn’t her? Would you know if he’d had any …’
    She stopped at the last moment and pretended to cough. She had been about to say ‘… any enemies in Lithuania