Ingrid.
“Living together? Sophie? Nah. Where’d you hear that?”
“Someone said—”
“That someone was wrong. Sometimes Sophie rented a room to other dance instructors. Like, the ones who come and teach for a couple weeks or a month or so and don’t live here in Göteborg. Marcelo’s been there since the end of August.”
“Is he still there?”
“Yeah.”
“What about Sophie? Where did she live?”
“On the ground floor, of course.”
“It must be a big house.”
“Yeah. Like, four hundred square meters or something like that.”
Given Frej’s openness, Irene decided to get more personal.
“We have to go over everything again,” Irene said. “Initially, we were dealing with a missing person, but now we’re investigating a murder.”
His face paled, but he said nothing. He just nodded to indicate he understood.
“I therefore have to ask you what you were doing around midnight between the twenty-third and twenty-fourth of September.”
“I’ve already said I was in the darkroom the whole evening and into the night.”
“What did you do later on?”
“I went to bed.”
“What time?”
“After two, I’m pretty sure. Maybe three. I don’t look at the clock when I’m in my darkroom.”
“So you had no contact with your sister on the night in question?”
“No, we just saw each other briefly when I was getting home from class around, you know, four or five in the afternoon.”
“Did she tell you what her plans were for that evening?”
“No.”
His response was the same as he’d given earlier. Irene thought hard about how to come to a different approach.
“Do you know when she left the house?”
“No idea.”
A thought crossed Irene’s mind. “Where is your darkroom?”
“In the loft apartment. That’s why I moved into Sophie’s house in the first place. The space was empty. The darkroom’s across from my apartment in the loft.”
“Any ideas at all where Sophie went after she left the bar at Park Aveny that night?”
“No.”
“Any guesses?”
“No.”
Irene decided to change her line of inquiry. In a neutral tone, she asked, “Who were Sophie’s best friends?”
“She didn’t have any friends.”
His answer came at once without any pause to think things through. It was just a dry statement.
“Were there any people at all she liked to hang out with?”
“Yeah, of course. People in the dance world. But she, like, never invited them home or anything.”
“Did Sophie have any enemies?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Do you know anyone who hated Sophie enough to want to kill her?”
He took a short time to think, and he replied in a low, quiet voice. “No.”
“Do you believe there might be a reason why Sophie was burned to death?”
“What do you mean by ‘believe’?” He looked at her.
“Why do you think that she was locked in that shed, and why do you think the killer set it on fire?”
Frej shook his head slowly. In his eyes, there appeared only deep sorrow. “Not the faintest idea,” he said seriously.
“What do you remember from that afternoon and evening when the cottage out in Björkil burned down?”
He appeared to ponder this for a while before looking back at Irene. “Not much more than Aunt Ingrid driving over there with me in the car. I can remember police cars … lots of people … then I really don’t remember much. It’s kind of strange, really …”
“Do you remember anything from before you arrived at the scene?”
“Nah. I was asleep. I really don’t remember much from that day at all. I remember
nada
. I must have been in shock or something like that.”
It really seemed he was trying to remember as much as he could. His apologetic look at Irene spoke clearly.
Irene decided to drop the subject. Instead, she said, “I must also ask you what you were doing the night of the sixteenth of October between two and four A.M. ”
He looked at her for a while before answering.
“That must have
“Living together? Sophie? Nah. Where’d you hear that?”
“Someone said—”
“That someone was wrong. Sometimes Sophie rented a room to other dance instructors. Like, the ones who come and teach for a couple weeks or a month or so and don’t live here in Göteborg. Marcelo’s been there since the end of August.”
“Is he still there?”
“Yeah.”
“What about Sophie? Where did she live?”
“On the ground floor, of course.”
“It must be a big house.”
“Yeah. Like, four hundred square meters or something like that.”
Given Frej’s openness, Irene decided to get more personal.
“We have to go over everything again,” Irene said. “Initially, we were dealing with a missing person, but now we’re investigating a murder.”
His face paled, but he said nothing. He just nodded to indicate he understood.
“I therefore have to ask you what you were doing around midnight between the twenty-third and twenty-fourth of September.”
“I’ve already said I was in the darkroom the whole evening and into the night.”
“What did you do later on?”
“I went to bed.”
“What time?”
“After two, I’m pretty sure. Maybe three. I don’t look at the clock when I’m in my darkroom.”
“So you had no contact with your sister on the night in question?”
“No, we just saw each other briefly when I was getting home from class around, you know, four or five in the afternoon.”
“Did she tell you what her plans were for that evening?”
“No.”
His response was the same as he’d given earlier. Irene thought hard about how to come to a different approach.
“Do you know when she left the house?”
“No idea.”
A thought crossed Irene’s mind. “Where is your darkroom?”
“In the loft apartment. That’s why I moved into Sophie’s house in the first place. The space was empty. The darkroom’s across from my apartment in the loft.”
“Any ideas at all where Sophie went after she left the bar at Park Aveny that night?”
“No.”
“Any guesses?”
“No.”
Irene decided to change her line of inquiry. In a neutral tone, she asked, “Who were Sophie’s best friends?”
“She didn’t have any friends.”
His answer came at once without any pause to think things through. It was just a dry statement.
“Were there any people at all she liked to hang out with?”
“Yeah, of course. People in the dance world. But she, like, never invited them home or anything.”
“Did Sophie have any enemies?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Do you know anyone who hated Sophie enough to want to kill her?”
He took a short time to think, and he replied in a low, quiet voice. “No.”
“Do you believe there might be a reason why Sophie was burned to death?”
“What do you mean by ‘believe’?” He looked at her.
“Why do you think that she was locked in that shed, and why do you think the killer set it on fire?”
Frej shook his head slowly. In his eyes, there appeared only deep sorrow. “Not the faintest idea,” he said seriously.
“What do you remember from that afternoon and evening when the cottage out in Björkil burned down?”
He appeared to ponder this for a while before looking back at Irene. “Not much more than Aunt Ingrid driving over there with me in the car. I can remember police cars … lots of people … then I really don’t remember much. It’s kind of strange, really …”
“Do you remember anything from before you arrived at the scene?”
“Nah. I was asleep. I really don’t remember much from that day at all. I remember
nada
. I must have been in shock or something like that.”
It really seemed he was trying to remember as much as he could. His apologetic look at Irene spoke clearly.
Irene decided to drop the subject. Instead, she said, “I must also ask you what you were doing the night of the sixteenth of October between two and four A.M. ”
He looked at her for a while before answering.
“That must have
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