The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

Knutas left police headquarters around lunchtime on Friday. He regretted that he was not going out to Fårö with Karin. Then he would at least have a sense of doing something constructive. Right now he seemed to be merely sitting in his office like some sodding administrator, ordering people around. He longed to be doing ordinary, respectable police footwork.
    He was going to spend the weekend at home alone, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. He closed the glass door of the Criminal Division with a sigh of relief. He was planning to have lunch and then spend the rest of the afternoon working at home. He wanted to go through the transcripts from the latest interviews, and that was something he preferred to do at home. He would have the whole house to himself all weekend, so there was no risk of being interrupted.
    Knutas felt anything but at ease with himself and his life in general. On top of his personal problems, the murder investigation seemed to be going nowhere. It felt as if they were simply treading water. I need to havesome time for myself, he thought as he crossed the car park outside police headquarters. Time to think.
    He stopped at the little pizzeria on his way home. By now the lunchtime rush was over, and the place was empty. He ordered a calzone and a strong beer. He needed it. He exchanged a few words with the owner, but no more than necessary. After all these years, they knew each other well enough so that the pizzeria owner recognized when Knutas wanted to talk and when he didn’t.
    Knutas found a secluded table next to the window at the back of the restaurant. He took a big gulp of the cold beer. That helped. He suddenly noticed that he smelled of sweat and glanced down at his shirt. Big damp patches had appeared under his arms. The heat was taking its toll on him. At least here in the restaurant it was cooler than outdoors. Listlessly he stared out of the window. Was he getting depressed? Was he overworked? In fact, there were several indications that he was burnt out. That was the term usually used, although he didn’t much care for it. What did it actually mean? But he’d been suffering from insomnia for weeks, and his sexual desire was completely gone. Not that he and Lina had been feeling particularly passionate lately, but they usually managed to have sex at least a few times a month. And normally it was great. But it had been a long time now. Neither of them felt like taking the initiative. Could it be so bad that they’d actually grown tired of each other? He would never have believed that. Lina had been the love of his life. Good Lord, am I already thinking in the past tense? he realized with alarm. He took another swallow of beer. He was definitely feeling out of sorts; maybe that was part of it. He was having a hard time sleeping, a hard time concentrating. Earlier in the week he’d gone to the ICA Supermarket to buy groceries. When he came out with a full shopping cart, he couldn’t for the life of him remember where he’d parked the car. It took him a good fifteen minutes to find it, but he still couldn’t recall parking it in that particular spot less than an hour earlier. He needed to pull himself together. He was like a spider in the web of the homicide investigation, expected to contribute a majority of the input. But right now he didn’t even have enough energy to deal with the pile of bills and other important papers he should be reading.He ignored them all, almost as if hoping that they’d simply disappear on their own. Friends and acquaintances phoned to ask if he’d like to get together, but their invitations felt burdensome, so he frequently declined, which only made the situation with Lina even worse. She thought he was being negative and boring. Every time the phone rang at home, he would jump. The phone had become a device that meant stress, and he wanted it to remain silent so he could retreat from everything and everyone. He wanted peace and quiet. He wanted to push away all the problems and decisions that needed to be dealt with. Put them in the deep-freeze and take them out later, when he felt better.
    He had finished his beer by the time the fragrant, hot pizza arrived. He ordered another one. That was exactly what he needed.
    After he had finished eating and had downed the last of his second beer, he noticed that he was feeling tipsy. He cursed himself. Here he was drinking strong beer in the middle of the day. What an idiot. What if someone saw him?