Page 43 of The Living and the Dead

“Merry Christmas,” came Gerd’s cheerful voice, and she walked in with a wrapped present in hand.

It was a perky little houseplant. A handwritten note read:Hi! I’m an elephant ear, and I’m easy to care for. Water me once a week and don’t expose me to too much sunlight, and I’m sure we’ll get along.

Siri recognized Gerd’s handwriting. “Thank you so much.”

When she gave her a prolonged hug, Gerd grew awkward.

“I just thought it would help cozy the place up, is all,” she muttered, nodding at the computer screen. “What have you got there?”

“An assault.”

Gerd readit.

“I’ll be damned. I didn’t know about that.” She squinted at the screen. “How did you find this?”

“I thought about the looks I saw Sten Persson and Madeleine Grenberg exchanging in the chapel this past weekend, and I thought there might be something to it. So I performed a few searches, is all.”

“What a genius idea. He was at Madeleine and Felicia’s house today, did I mention that? His car was parked there when I drove by. It looked like they were having coffee.” Gerd brought a finger to the screen. “This appears to have happened in Halmstad. No investigation opened.” She stood up straight and put her hands on her hips. “Well, that explains why I don’t have any memory of it. But,” she added, “the question is, what does it mean? If anything. It’s not exactly out of the ordinary for two area men to land in a drunken fight. When was this?”

“A year ago.”

Gerd pursed her lips. “Well, who knows.”

Just then, the desk phone rang. Gerd brought the receiver to her ear and listened. Her eyebrows shot up, adding extra wrinkles to her already furrowed brow.

“Oh? And what would that be?” She checked her watch. “Sure, of course. That’s fine. Good, see you soon.” She hung up and aimed a suggestive nod at the computer. “Speak of the devil.”

32

“These gingerbread cookies aren’t very good,” Siri said, pushing the plate across the table. “But help yourself.”

“Coffee’s fine,” he said.

Sten Persson selected two Christmas pigs and took a sip of the black coffee. Sten was so large that he made the spindly wooden chair look unnaturally tiny. They were in the station’s break room. The lighting was warmer here, and the furniture more comfortable; the walls were done in floral ’60s wallpaper. They were adorned with maps, dated checklists, and lists of phone numbers that didn’t go anywhere anymore, things to browse while you waited by the stove or the coffeemaker. Siri wondered who had put it all up—she doubted it was Gerd.

“How are things with Killian?” Gerd asked.

Sten was immediately wary. “What about him?”

“How is he feeling?”

“Fine, I think. Given the circumstances. You’ve spoken with him, haven’t you?”

“Yes. That’s a nice cabin he’s got.”

“It turned out really well.” Sten took another cookie. “I just wish…You know, in a different world I would have been the one to help him build it. But that’s not how it turned out.”

“Such is life, sometimes.”

“Yes, I guess so.”

Gerd and Siri waited.

“So,” Gerd said, when nothing happened.

“Well.” Sten dipped his gingerbread pig into his coffee, ate it, and warmed his hands on the mug. “Tonight I felt like there was something I should tell you.” He looked at Gerd. “I saw you today, you know.”

“You did?”