Vidar’s phone beeped as a call came in. For a moment he considered ignoring it and simply going home to see Patricia instead. They were supposed to split a bottle of wine on the patio eight hours ago.
He accepted the call.
“Oh, hello,” came a familiar voice that was much less frenzied than last time. “This is Adrian al-Hadid from patrol. We’re still out here, my shift is almost over, but I wanted to stick around until you arrived.”
“Go home and get some sleep. I won’t be there until tomorrow anyway.”
“No,” Adrian said with an unexpected air of authority, as though he had grown ten feet taller out there in Skavböke. “I really think you’d better come now.”
65
As it turned out, it wasn’t quite true that Filip Söderström had moved into Frans Ljunggren’s house and left everything where it was. He had discarded quite a bit of old furniture and bought some new pieces and even repainted the bedroom.
The patrol officers kept watch by the police tape while the technicians found evidence of a bachelor’s simple life: dirty laundry in a faded blue IKEA bag, an unopened package of condoms in the nightstand, and half a six-pack of near-beer in the fridge.
But that wasn’t all. They also found signs of a structured daily life, like a trash-sorting system under the sink and thriving houseplants. You got the impression Filip had honestly done the best he could with what he had.
Vidar advanced slowly through the creaky old house. Wide floorboards, a low ceiling. Cramped rooms. A wardrobe with wrinkled shirts on a row of identical hangers. He gently ran a hand along them.
The techs were still going from room to room. Cameras clicked. Low voices conversed.
“We’re almost done,” one of them said. “But there’s not much to write home about in here. Just the stuff you’d expect to find. Well, that and his planner.” The tech handed over an ordinary daily planner with a blue plastic cover. “It was on the dresser.”
Vidar tentatively picked it up and paged through it. Few notes,most of them work-related, it seemed. On the day of Filip’s death, the entry readFuneral SC 12:00 Work 1:30.
SC. Skavböke Chapel, presumably.
“Nothing to suggest anyone else has been here recently?”
“Not in here, at least. I don’t know how it’s going out in the garage.”
The garage had once been a workshop. Filip had moved all of Frans’s old junk to one side to make room for his car. A workbench with too many little drawers to count and a cabinet full of tools and equipment crowded alongside barrels, lumber, and what seemed to be the remains of a car engine on four pallets. It smelled like wood and metal, like an old construction site. Vidar studied the cluttered tool bench, wondering what had belonged to the old man and what was Filip’s.
“Over here,” Adrian said dully.
The young officer was so exhausted that he drooped like a dried flower. He nodded at the other tech, who was crouching down, holding a few cotton swabs in her gloved hands. Her attention was on the gardening tools that leaned against the wall like a giant, sprawling bouquet: crowbars, spades, hoes, shovels, and rakes.
The tech ran a swab along an old-fashioned spade, a heavy one. It had a well-worn wooden shaft, an iron handle, and a blade flaking with rust and age.
“Blood,” she said. “Human. I’m no expert when it comes to blood, but I’d say there’s some old and some fresh. And fingerprints as well, along the shaft.”
“Recent ones?” Vidar asked.
“Recent and old, I think. Both.”
“Is it the murder weapon?”
The technician had been having a hectic morning even before the call came from Skavböke. By the time Vidar arrived, she’d been on duty for twenty hours. She blinked, feeling the lack of sleep.
“The blade matches the wounds on his head, in any case.”
“Who found the spade?”
The technician nodded at Adrian, who blushed.
“I noticed there was something on it and spoke up, that’s all. He seems to have wiped the blade farther down, but not very carefully. He must have been in a hurry, because he didn’t even notice these tiny spatters higher up. Or maybe he didn’t care. See for yourself.”
Vidar leaned over and saw the streaks at the bottom, and dark-red freckles closer to the top.
