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Unspoken

Unspoken

Titel: Unspoken Kostenlos Bücher Online Lesen
Autoren: Mari Jungstedt
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jealous, even though he would never admit it out loud. Kihlgård was a big lug, but it was obvious that Jacobsson appreciated his outgoing personality.
    When he caught sight of Knutas, Kihlgård’s jovial smile got even bigger.
    “Well, hello, Knutie,” he shouted heartily, slapping him on the back. “How’s it going, old boy?”
    He sounds like Captain Haddock in the Tintin comics , thought Knutas as he returned the smile. He found it very annoying that Kihlgård had suddenly decided to call him Knutie.
    They sat down in Knutas’s office and started reviewing the case. No more than ten minutes passed before Kihlgård began grumbling about food.
    “Aren’t we going to have lunch?”
    “Of course, it’s almost time for it,” said Jacobsson promptly. “Why don’t we go to the Cloister? Anders’s friend owns the place, and they have great food,” she explained, turning to both officers from National.
    “That sounds excellent,” growled Kihlgård. “You get us a good table, okay, Knutie?”
    Lunch was pleasant, in any event. Leif gave them a window table with a view of Saint Per’s Ruin. Hans Hansson had never been to Gotland before, and he was impressed.
    “It’s even more beautiful than in the pictures we see. You live in a regular fairy tale city over here. I hope you appreciate it.”
    “Normally we don’t think much about it,” said Jacobsson with a smile. “But a trip to the mainland is always a good reminder. Then I realize how beautiful it is when I come back home.”
    “Same here,” Knutas agreed. “I’d have a hard time living anywhere else.”
    They ate the grilled lamb and root-vegetable casserole with gusto. Kihlgård had no time to talk while he was eating, except once when he asked for more bread. Knutas was reminded that his colleague apparently had an insatiable appetite. The man was always eating, at all times of the day and night.
    The restaurant was furnished in an old-fashioned style, with lighted candles and linen tablecloths on all the tables. The cozy atmosphere was particularly welcome now that it was overcast and cold outdoors. Leif surprised them with the restaurant’s specialty, a homemade chocolate cake, with their coffee. Then he sat down to join them for a moment.
    “How nice to have new lunch customers. Are you staying for a while?”
    “We’ll have to wait and see,” said Kihlgård. “This is an amazingly delicious cake.”
    “Please come again, anytime. We’re always happy to see all of our customers.”
    “I suppose it must be difficult in the wintertime.”
    “Yes, it’s tough running a restaurant here that’s open all year round. But we’ve managed to do all right, at least so far. Well, don’t let me disturb you anymore.”
    Leif stood up and left.
    “We’ve gone over the details of Dahlström’s life, but what’s the situation with alcoholics here on the island, in general?” asked Kihlgård. “For instance, how many are there?”
    “I would estimate there are about thirty or so truly hard-core alcoholics, meaning individuals who drink all the time and have no job,” replied Jacobsson.
    “So they’re homeless?”
    “We actually don’t have any homeless here, like you do in the city. Most of them have their own apartment or else they live in municipal housing for addicts scattered here and there.”
    “What about violent crime among this sort of people?”
    “Occasionally they kill each other when they’re drunk. We have a couple of murders a year, on average, that are drug or alcohol related. But usually that happens among the drug addicts. The alcoholics are generally harmless.”
    It was about time to go back to the office. Knutas waved to Leif to get the bill. The wonderful chocolate cake was on the house.
    After seeing Emma again, Johan had a longing for fresh air. He took a walk to distract his thoughts.
    Almedalen Park was quiet and deserted. The wet asphalt of the public footpath through the grass glittered in the glow of the streetlights, and he could hear the low quacking of the ducks in the pond, even though they were barely visible in the dark. He turned onto the shoreline pathway that ran from Visby all the way out to Snäckgärds Beach, two miles north. Here the wind picked up, and he turned up the collar of his jacket against the chill. Not a soul was in sight. The waves rolled in to shore, and seagulls shrieked. A large passenger ferry with its navigation lights shining through the darkness was approaching

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