Page 34 of The Living and the Dead

“Too smeared to lift,” Gerd said, taking a picture with the camera. “But we’ll document it anyway.”

Then she dutifully photographed the door, both from a distance and close up, with the broken pane like an open wound. Almost the whole house fit into the frame.

Meanwhile, Siri spoke to Jakob, who stood with his arms wrapped around himself as though he were freezing, looking like his whole world had fallen apart.

“It’s okay, Jakob,” she said softly. “This kind of thing can happen to anyone.” Siri almost wanted to touch him. “How are you holding up? It must have been a difficult weekend.”

“I’m okay. I just want the money back.”

“How bad was this fight you had with Mikael at the party?”

“What do you mean, how bad?”

“Was it about Felicia?”

Jakob’s eyes got big. “Felicia? No, no. It was just about money and stuff, that kind of crap.”

“But you like Felicia?”

“As a friend, sure. But that’s all.”

“But did Mikael think you did? He liked her, right?”

“No, I don’t know. Who told you that?”

“I just wondered. Did Mikael like Felicia?”

“Everyone likes Felicia. But if there was something more going on between them, I didn’t know about it. I guess you’d have to ask her.”

“What about after the party, what did you do?”

“I went home, obviously.”

“Straight home?”

Jakob looked perplexed. “Yeah, of course.”

Siri waited. So did Jakob.

“Okay,” said Gerd. “I’m all done.”

—

Back at the station, they sat in Gerd’s office, Gerd at her cluttered desk and Siri on one of the wooden chairs. All Siri had added to her own office so far was a new notepad, a set of empty binders, and a few random mugs. It still smelled like old coffee in there.

“According to the autopsy, Mikael dies at around one thirty in the morning,” Siri said. “Ten minutes later, around twenty to two, Jakob arrives home.”

By that point, the pane of the door was already broken, and someone had taken the money—over fifty thousand kronor—out of the kitchen bench and vanished. No evidence beyond the smeared footprint had been found in the house; the burglar had taken one step inside, stopped to remove their shoes, and then continued. This burglar was either experienced or clever.

“Lots of money,” Siri said. “Poor bastards.”

“Yes. But if you’re stupid enough to withdraw your savings, hide it carelessly in your home, and let your son go to a party where he blabs about it, you have only yourself to blame.”

“Who does, the son or the parents?”

Gerd only muttered in response, and went to the bathroom.

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