Unspoken

about an ex-girlfriend who wanted revenge, or a jealous husband whose wife was sleeping with Dahlström, or some neighbor who got tired of all the coming and going in the stairwell?”
    “I think the explanation could be even simpler than that. The most obvious motive is the track money—someone killed Dahlström for the money, plain and simple.”
    “Maybe.” Jacobsson stood up. “I’ve got to run. We’re going to track down Örjan Broström—Bengt’s buddy.”
    “Okay. Good luck.”
    Most of the lunch guests had left the restaurant, and Leif sat down on the chair that Jacobsson had vacated.
    He opened a frosty bottle of beer and took several long gulps.
    “What an ordeal. Practically every customer wanted to order à la carte instead of choosing the daily special. The kitchen was an inferno, and the chef has been yelling at everyone. I had to console one of the waitresses who started sobbing.”
    “You poor guy,” said Knutas with a laugh. “Is she cute?”
    Leif made a wry face.
    “Not much fun when you have to play nanny to every single person. Sometimes this place seems just like a day-care center. But never mind that, a lot of people means money in the bank, and that’s what we need during the long, cold winter. How are things with you?”
    “Lots of work—just like you. The difference is that the profits are scanty.”
    “How’s the investigation going?”
    “We’ve got someone under arrest, although between you and me, I doubt he’s the guy. But I’m sure we’ll solve this case, too.”
    “Wasn’t it one of his drinking buddies who did it?”
    “That seems the most likely, but we’ll have to wait and see,” said Knutas.
    Even though he and Leif were close friends, he didn’t like to discuss an investigation when he was in the middle of it. Leif was fully aware of this and respected his reticence.
    “How are Ingrid and the kids?” asked Knutas.
    “They’re all fine. This morning I went out and bought tickets to Paris. I’m thinking of surprising Ingrid with a week of romance right after New Year’s. We’re celebrating our fifteenth wedding anniversary.”
    “Has it been that long?”
    “Incredible but true.”
    “You always manage to come up with such good ideas. I can’t think of what to buy Lina for her birthday. Do you have any suggestions?”
    “No, you’re going to have to think of something yourself. I’ve filled my quota when it comes to your wife’s birthdays. At least until it’s time for her fiftieth.”
    Knutas smiled with embarrassment. When Lina had turned forty they were going through a rough period financially. So the Almlövs had provided the place and the wait staff for the big celebration. Leif also happened to know the members of a band, and they had agreed to play for free. Leif was truly a thoughtful and generous friend. The entire Knutas family had been invited to the Almlöv mountain cabin and to their time-share apartment on the Costa del Sol in Spain.
    The two families belonged to completely different economic brackets. This had bothered Knutas at first, but over time he had accepted this difference. Leif and Ingrid had a relaxed attitude toward their wealth, and they never talked about it.
    Knutas asked for the bill, but Leif refused to let his friend pay for lunch. Every time Knutas came to the restaurant they had the same argument.
    Johan was standing in front of the ATM on Adelsgatan when he noticed her. She came walking from Söderport, holding the hand of a child on either side. She was talking to them and laughing. Tall and slender, with her sand-colored hair hanging straight down to her shoulders. He saw the contours of her high cheek-bones as she turned her head. She was wearing jeans and a short, lion-yellow quilted jacket. A striped scarf was wrapped around her neck. And she had on mocha-colored boots with fringe.
    His mouth went dry and he turned his back to peer down at the ATM. “Receipt requested?” Should he turn around and say hello? Last night’s conversation complicated matters. He didn’t know whether she was still angry.
    He had never met the children, just seen them from a distance. Would she notice him, or would she just walk past? There was hardly anyone on the street, which meant that she was bound to see him. He felt a slight panic and turned around.
    She had stopped to look in a window a short distance away. He gathered his courage.
    “Hi!” He looked right into her shining eyes.
    “Hi, Johan.”
    The