little girl that morning, and all they could say was how terrible it all was. And Ernst had to agree. He was glad he’d never had kids. He’d managed to keep his distance from women too, he thought, repressing the fact that it was the women who had kept away from him.
He glanced over at Hedström, who was covering the houses on the other side of the Florins’. Sometimes he just itched to give his colleague a punch in the nose. He had seen the look in Hedström’s eyes when he was forced to take him along this morning. As insulting as it was, that had actually given Ernst a brief moment of satisfaction. Otherwise Hedström and Molin were as thick as thieves, and they refused to listen to older colleagues like himself and Gösta. Even if Gösta was probably not the best example of a good cop, his many years on the force deserved respect. And it was no wonder that he’d lost interest in putting any energy into his job under the current conditions. Come to think of it, it was almost certainly the younger officers’ fault that his morale was so low, that he never felt like working and snuck off on breaks whenever possible. It was a comforting thought. Not that he hadn’t had pangs of guilt about his lackluster work performance, but now it was clear that it wasn’t his fault. It felt good that he’d finally put his finger on the source of the problem. All at once life felt much, much better. He knocked on the next door.
Frida was carefully combing the doll’s hair. She needed to look good because she was going to a party. The table in front of her was already set with tiny little plastic cups and fancy red plates filled with coffee and cakes. Who cared if they were only pretend?
Sara had always thought it was dumb to play with dolls. She said they were too old for that. Dolls were for babies, Sara had said, but Frida loved playing with dolls. Sara could be so tiresome sometimes. She always had to be the one to decide. Everything had to be the way she wanted it, or else she would sulk and break things. Mamma would get really mad at Sara when she broke Frida’s things. Then Sara would have to go home, and Mamma would call Sara’s mamma and her voice sounded so angry. But when Sara was nice, then Frida liked her a lot, so she still wanted to play with her. Just hoping that she’d be nice.
She didn’t understand what had happened to Sara. Mamma had explained that she was gone, that she drowned in the sea, but where was she then? In heaven, Mamma had said, but Frida had stood for a long, long time looking up at the sky, and she hadn’t seen Sara. She was sure that if Sara had been in heaven she would have waved to her. Since she hadn’t, that must mean she wasn’t there. So the question was: where was she? She couldn’t just disappear, could she? Imagine if Mamma disappeared like that. It scared Frida. If Sara could disappear, could mammas disappear too? She hugged her doll tighter.
There was something else she wondered about too. Mamma had said that the men who came and rang the doorbell and told them about Sara were police officers. Frida knew that you were supposed to tell the police everything. You could never lie to them. But she had promised Sara not to tell anybody about the nasty old man. Did she have to keep her promise to someone who was gone? If Sara was gone, then she wouldn’t find out if Frida told. But what if she came back and heard that Frida had tattled? Then she’d be madder than ever. She might even smash everything in Frida’s room, including her doll. Frida decided that it was best to keep quiet about the nasty old man.
‘Flygare, have you got a minute?’ Patrik had been careful to pause a moment after knocking on Gösta’s door, but he still saw his colleague hastily shut down a golf game on his computer.
‘Sure, I probably have a minute,’ said Gösta sullenly, painfully aware that Patrik had seen what he was doing. ‘Is this about the girl?’ he went on in a more pleasant tone.
He glanced over at Hedström, who was covering the houses on the other side of the Florins’. Sometimes he just itched to give his colleague a punch in the nose. He had seen the look in Hedström’s eyes when he was forced to take him along this morning. As insulting as it was, that had actually given Ernst a brief moment of satisfaction. Otherwise Hedström and Molin were as thick as thieves, and they refused to listen to older colleagues like himself and Gösta. Even if Gösta was probably not the best example of a good cop, his many years on the force deserved respect. And it was no wonder that he’d lost interest in putting any energy into his job under the current conditions. Come to think of it, it was almost certainly the younger officers’ fault that his morale was so low, that he never felt like working and snuck off on breaks whenever possible. It was a comforting thought. Not that he hadn’t had pangs of guilt about his lackluster work performance, but now it was clear that it wasn’t his fault. It felt good that he’d finally put his finger on the source of the problem. All at once life felt much, much better. He knocked on the next door.
Frida was carefully combing the doll’s hair. She needed to look good because she was going to a party. The table in front of her was already set with tiny little plastic cups and fancy red plates filled with coffee and cakes. Who cared if they were only pretend?
Sara had always thought it was dumb to play with dolls. She said they were too old for that. Dolls were for babies, Sara had said, but Frida loved playing with dolls. Sara could be so tiresome sometimes. She always had to be the one to decide. Everything had to be the way she wanted it, or else she would sulk and break things. Mamma would get really mad at Sara when she broke Frida’s things. Then Sara would have to go home, and Mamma would call Sara’s mamma and her voice sounded so angry. But when Sara was nice, then Frida liked her a lot, so she still wanted to play with her. Just hoping that she’d be nice.
She didn’t understand what had happened to Sara. Mamma had explained that she was gone, that she drowned in the sea, but where was she then? In heaven, Mamma had said, but Frida had stood for a long, long time looking up at the sky, and she hadn’t seen Sara. She was sure that if Sara had been in heaven she would have waved to her. Since she hadn’t, that must mean she wasn’t there. So the question was: where was she? She couldn’t just disappear, could she? Imagine if Mamma disappeared like that. It scared Frida. If Sara could disappear, could mammas disappear too? She hugged her doll tighter.
There was something else she wondered about too. Mamma had said that the men who came and rang the doorbell and told them about Sara were police officers. Frida knew that you were supposed to tell the police everything. You could never lie to them. But she had promised Sara not to tell anybody about the nasty old man. Did she have to keep her promise to someone who was gone? If Sara was gone, then she wouldn’t find out if Frida told. But what if she came back and heard that Frida had tattled? Then she’d be madder than ever. She might even smash everything in Frida’s room, including her doll. Frida decided that it was best to keep quiet about the nasty old man.
‘Flygare, have you got a minute?’ Patrik had been careful to pause a moment after knocking on Gösta’s door, but he still saw his colleague hastily shut down a golf game on his computer.
‘Sure, I probably have a minute,’ said Gösta sullenly, painfully aware that Patrik had seen what he was doing. ‘Is this about the girl?’ he went on in a more pleasant tone.
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