with them. This year another friend was there, along with his sister. Maya Reding-Hedberg. They ended up sitting next to one another at the traditional pickled herring lunch, and they stayed there all evening and most of the night. They had been together ever since, and saw each other nearly every day.
In spite of this he hadnât said anything about Maya on the way home from Forskarbacken when Vanja tried to pump him for details. He usually told Vanja everything. Or most things. Sometimes he felt as if they were more like brother and sister than colleagues, but this time he held back, for the simple reason that he was fairly sure Vanja wouldnât like Maya.
She was a life coach.
Vanja had many good points, but she was such a high achiever that she found it difficult to cope with people who didnât make the most of their lives. On their own. It was one thing to improve your education, to go on courses, attend lectures, set goals, but she regarded it as a sign of inherent weakness and spinelessness if someone needed help to find their motivation and achieve results. If you didnât know what you wanted, then you didnât want it enough â that was her mantra. If you had real problems you went to a qualified psychologist, not some half-baked New Age character with a diploma who provided encouragement at a thousand kronor an hour.
No, Vanja wouldnât like Maya.
Not that he needed Vanjaâs approval, but it was simpler if she didnât know anything. That meant he could avoid the gibes, the ironic little comments. This was particularly important now, when he had actually started making a serious attempt to change his situation within the team.
It had begun with Maya asking him if he was happy in his work. A simple question, a simple answer. Yes, he was. He couldnât imagine a better place to work or better colleagues. As time went by, they had talked more. She was interested in what he did, what his role was. A lot of people just wanted to hear the gory details of an exciting murder enquiry, but Maya wasnât like that. No, she was interested in the job itself. In him. That was something he liked about her, the fact that she could make him talk. So he started to tell her about his work. About what he did each day. He kept it practical and concrete. Afterwards she had looked at him with a slight furrow in her brow.
âIt sounds to me as if youâre more of an IT technician than a detective.â
That had hit home. He became more conscious of the tasks he was given. Checking police records. Downloads. Searches.
The more he became aware of it, the more he realised that his role within the investigations was increasingly that of a kind of advanced secretary rather than an investigative police officer. He talked to Maya about it, and she suggested that he should take some time to think about where he was going. And have the courage to listen to the answer. The answer was that he didnât know. Heâd never even thought about it.
He went to work.
He enjoyed it.
He went home.
He was able to make use of his ability to create structure by building timelines, and by gathering and collating information from every imaginable source, but was he using his full potential? No, he couldnât say that he was. It was difficult to assert himself within the team. Torkel Höglund was one of the most highly qualified police officers in Sweden, and both Vanja and Ursula were in the top three â if not number one â in their respective fields. But he didnât need to reach that level. He hadnât said so to Maya, but if he were to be perfectly honest he didnât really think he had what it took; however, he could certainly become a more equal member of the team. He had already started working on it.
Maya emerged from the bathroom wearing his dressing gown, with a towel wound around her hair. She sat down beside him on the sofa.
âHave you decided what weâre
In spite of this he hadnât said anything about Maya on the way home from Forskarbacken when Vanja tried to pump him for details. He usually told Vanja everything. Or most things. Sometimes he felt as if they were more like brother and sister than colleagues, but this time he held back, for the simple reason that he was fairly sure Vanja wouldnât like Maya.
She was a life coach.
Vanja had many good points, but she was such a high achiever that she found it difficult to cope with people who didnât make the most of their lives. On their own. It was one thing to improve your education, to go on courses, attend lectures, set goals, but she regarded it as a sign of inherent weakness and spinelessness if someone needed help to find their motivation and achieve results. If you didnât know what you wanted, then you didnât want it enough â that was her mantra. If you had real problems you went to a qualified psychologist, not some half-baked New Age character with a diploma who provided encouragement at a thousand kronor an hour.
No, Vanja wouldnât like Maya.
Not that he needed Vanjaâs approval, but it was simpler if she didnât know anything. That meant he could avoid the gibes, the ironic little comments. This was particularly important now, when he had actually started making a serious attempt to change his situation within the team.
It had begun with Maya asking him if he was happy in his work. A simple question, a simple answer. Yes, he was. He couldnât imagine a better place to work or better colleagues. As time went by, they had talked more. She was interested in what he did, what his role was. A lot of people just wanted to hear the gory details of an exciting murder enquiry, but Maya wasnât like that. No, she was interested in the job itself. In him. That was something he liked about her, the fact that she could make him talk. So he started to tell her about his work. About what he did each day. He kept it practical and concrete. Afterwards she had looked at him with a slight furrow in her brow.
âIt sounds to me as if youâre more of an IT technician than a detective.â
That had hit home. He became more conscious of the tasks he was given. Checking police records. Downloads. Searches.
The more he became aware of it, the more he realised that his role within the investigations was increasingly that of a kind of advanced secretary rather than an investigative police officer. He talked to Maya about it, and she suggested that he should take some time to think about where he was going. And have the courage to listen to the answer. The answer was that he didnât know. Heâd never even thought about it.
He went to work.
He enjoyed it.
He went home.
He was able to make use of his ability to create structure by building timelines, and by gathering and collating information from every imaginable source, but was he using his full potential? No, he couldnât say that he was. It was difficult to assert himself within the team. Torkel Höglund was one of the most highly qualified police officers in Sweden, and both Vanja and Ursula were in the top three â if not number one â in their respective fields. But he didnât need to reach that level. He hadnât said so to Maya, but if he were to be perfectly honest he didnât really think he had what it took; however, he could certainly become a more equal member of the team. He had already started working on it.
Maya emerged from the bathroom wearing his dressing gown, with a towel wound around her hair. She sat down beside him on the sofa.
âHave you decided what weâre
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