The Blinded Man by Arne Dahl

question and just as indirectly asked me to wake him up.’
    Hjelm stared at her, his mouth agape.
    She invited him in with a wave of her hand, smiling up her sleeve, as it were. ‘Don’t mind me. I’ll always be a language teacher, to the end of my days. Sit down and I’ll go get my husband.’ She disappeared up the stairs, moving with surprising agility.
    Hjelm remained standing in the enormous vestibule, trying to make sense of what had just ensued. ‘
If it’s not too much trouble, I really must ask you to wake him
.’ Surely that was an acceptable way to say it?
    There went his language of intimidation.
    After only a couple of minutes the woman came back down the stairs, followed by an obese elderly man wearing a bathrobe and slippers. The man held out his hand.
    ‘Rickard Franzén,’ he said. ‘Ninety per cent of my afternoon nap involves trying to fall asleep and ten per cent trying to accept that I won’t be able to. So I wasn’t asleep. It’s hard to get used to being retired after a whole lifetime of working. And I assume that you’ve already noticed that the same is true of my wife.’
    ‘Paul Hjelm,’ said Hjelm. ‘From the Criminal Police.’
    ‘The Stockholm police?’
    ‘No, NCP.’ Hjelm had forgotten that the man used to be a judge.
    ‘Some sort of new special unit?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I thought so. And I also think I know why you’re here. Fast work.’
    ‘Thanks. So what’s your view on the matter?’
    ‘I think it’s entirely possible that I’m potentially the third victim. We talked about that this morning, my wife and I. Birgitta thought I should call the police. I was more reluctant. And I won the argument. That’s not always the case, let me tell you.’
    ‘Do you think that someone in the Order of Mimir is behind these murders?’
    ‘I wouldn’t venture to speculate about that, but I can understand that, in your eyes, there must be a connection.’
    Franzén’s amenable attitude allowed Hjelm to get right to the point. He opted for blunt language instead of the language of intimidation.
    ‘We have an important investigative meeting at three. Might I request that you accompany me to police headquarters so that we can ask you a number of questions about the Order of Skidbladnir and also decide on the surveillance measures for tonight?’
    Franzén paused to consider it. Then he said, ‘Of course. The pattern. You think that the spatial symmetry indicates a temporal similarity as well, and that the third murder is going to take place tonight. Forty-eight hours between each of them. You could be right. Just give me a few minutes.’
    He disappeared into the bathroom. Without a doubt, the Swedish judicial branch had suffered a major loss. In Hjelm’s eyes, Rickard Franzén had clearly been a very good judge.
    Birgitta Franzén came over to Hjelm. ‘Do you think his life is actually in danger?’
    ‘I don’t really know, but it’s quite possible. Will you be home tonight?’
    ‘I rarely go out.’
    ‘What about your husband?’
    ‘He’s going to visit an old colleague. They usually get together once a month.’
    Hjelm nodded. ‘Does it usually go late?’
    She gave a little laugh. ‘Very’ was all she said.
    ‘And your bedroom is on the next floor up?’
    ‘Two floors up.’
    ‘What about the living room? Is it on the ground floor?’
    ‘You’re practically standing in it. The vestibule narrows to form a corridor over there on the right and then opens onto the living room.’
    Hjelm headed to the right. A short distance away the vestibule formed a sort of funnel shape, then widened to become the living room. It was a very unusual floor plan that a murderer would have to know about in advance in order to act. Against the window on the opposite wall in the living room stood a long, sectional leather sofa.
    Hjelm returned to the vestibule and found Rickard Franzén fully dressed. He looked resolute, practically enthusiastic.
    ‘Have you taken a look at the