The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

Olsson. They certainly look like they were good friends.’
    ‘They certainly do.’
    ‘The bed seems to have been recently made. But it’s impossible to tell when it was last used.’
    Jacobsson sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh, feeling discouraged.
    ‘What should we do?’
    ‘First we’ll search the cabin, and then we’ll have a look at the boathouse down by the water. I’m afraid that since his boat is gone and he hasn’t been seen for a whole week, we have to expect the worst. He may have drowned when he was out fishing.’ Kihlgård got out his mobile. ‘I’ll ask the others to find out if a rowing boat has come ashore anywhere along the coast. If so, we’ll soon have our answer.’
    Jacobsson stared up at her colleague from under her fringe.
    ‘Don’t you think this is all a bit strange? First Sam Dahlberg is found dead on Stora Karlsö a couple of days after he’s been here on Fårö to attend the Bergman festival. Then Stina Ek disappears from the island during the same week while taking a bicycle ride. And now another man is missing. And who does he happen to be? Bergman’s closest neighbour. I don’t think it’s just a coincidence. There must be a connection.’
    Kihlgård nodded pensively.
    ‘I’m sure you’re right. The question is: What on earth does Ingmar Bergman have to do with all of this?’

KNUTAS LOOKED AROUND the room. The hospital smells prickled his nose. Cautiously he turned his wrist, grimacing with pain.
    Fortunately his neighbour had been able to take him to accident and emergency after he fell off the roof. He was feeling dazed and gratefully accepted a painkiller and a glass of water from a nurse who came into the room. She gave him a smile.
    ‘So how’s it going?’
    ‘I’m not sure,’ said Knutas. ‘I feel sick. My wrist hurts. My head does too.’
    ‘You have a bad concussion, and your wrist is broken. It was a nasty fall. Considering the circumstances, you’re doing well.’
    ‘What time is it?’
    ‘Twelve ten. We’ve phoned Lina, and she’s on her way.’
    Everyone knew Lina. She’d worked at the hospital for fifteen years.
    ‘We need to put a cast on your wrist. We’ll do that later this afternoon.’
    ‘Will I be able to go to work?’ asked Knutas worriedly.
    ‘That’s for the doctor to decide, but I think you’ll probably need to stay home for a week at least. A serious concussion is nothing to muck around with. There can be complications if you don’t take it easy. But it was lucky that it was your left hand. You’re right-handed, aren’t you?’
    ‘Yes. Could I make a phone call?’
    ‘Of course. Would you like your mobile?’
    ‘Yes, please. But first I’ve got to use the toilet.’
    ‘Let me help you.’
    With great effort he sat up and put his feet on the floor. At that moment his head started to spin, as if someone had struck him.
    ‘How are you doing?’ asked the nurse, holding him by the arm.
    Knutas sighed. It seemed very unlikely that he’d be back at work on Monday.

THE FLAT WAS situated in a row of dilapidated buildings with external walkways built sometime in the 1960s.
    At the moment no lights were on in any of the windows. No one seemed to be at home. That suited him perfectly.
    He unlocked the front door and entered the hall. Since he had just stepped in from outside, he noticed how stuffy it smelled. He walked through the living room, which was furnished with a white leather sofa, a coffee table with smoked glass and gilded feet, and a bookcase made of cherry. A porcelain Dalmatian adorned one corner of the room. The blinds were drawn, hanging drearily in front of the window and blocking the view of the building on the other side of the street. Just the way he liked it. He didn’t want to be aware of the world outside. Not now. He needed to concentrate on what was ahead. He had to prepare. He went into the bedroom, where the bed was still unmade, and pulled out the drawer of the nightstand to get the key to the locked room. In addition to the kitchen the flat consisted of three rooms, but he used only two of them on a daily basis. The empty room was intended for special purposes. He turned the key in the lock. It was pitch dark inside, with a faint aroma of incense. The fragrance called up memories for him, and if he stayed inside for any length of time, he almost felt dizzy – from both desire and yearning. He had meticulously furnished what he called the Red Room – although it had nothing to