Mari Jungstedt - The Dead Of Summer

Karin and Thomas were sitting outside at a corner table, and both of them waved enthusiastically when they saw him approach.

‘Hi! How great that you decided to join us!’

Karin gave him a big smile, showing the gap between her front teeth. She made room for him on the bench next to her. How can she be so suntanned? thought Knutas. He hadn’t noticed before. He ordered beer and a steak.

While they waited for the food to arrive, Jacobsson lit a cigarette.

‘You’ve started smoking again?’ asked Knutas. ‘So what’s the reason? Are you celebrating something, or is there some sort of problem?’

‘What do you think?’ She gave him a friendly poke in the side. ‘I only smoke when I’m out partying.’

‘Right. That’s what they all say.’

‘Good lord, you sound like an old married couple,’ said Wittberg with a laugh.

Knutas looked at Jacobsson. To his amusement, he noticed that she was blushing.

‘Well, I guess we almost are,’ he said. ‘We’ve been working together for a hell of a lot of years.’

‘Maybe too long.’

‘Not on your life. I hope we’ll always work together. We’re a dream team.’

They drank a toast to that. Knutas relaxed, realizing he hadn’t had so much fun in a long time. This was probably exactly what he needed. Wittberg was in top form. He was a real charmer and very popular with the ladies, and not just because of his surfer looks. Wittberg was one of the funniest people Knutas had ever met. He told one joke after another, making Knutas and Jacobsson howl with laughter.

A couple of hours later, it was time for a last round. The restaurant was about to close.

‘But we can go over to my place,’ said Jacobsson.

Knutas hesitated. He was starting to feel quite drunk, and tomorrow was a work day, even though it was Sunday.

‘Come on. Just one drink, since we’re having such a good time. Good lord, how often do we go out and have fun? We just work, work, work.’

‘OK. But just one drink.’

It was only one a.m., and no one was waiting for him at home.

They left the restaurant and headed towards Mellangatan. Knutas walked alongside his bike. When they had almost reached Jacobsson’s place, Wittberg stopped short.

‘Listen here, I’m going to have to renege on the invitation. The booze has suddenly taken effect, and I’m feeling really drunk. I think it’s best if I go home to bed.’

‘But why? Are you sure?’ said Jacobsson. ‘Don’t you want to come over?’

‘No, I’m sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Jacobsson looked at Knutas. He felt confused. What should he do now?

‘Would you like to come over for a little while at least?’

‘All right,’ he muttered, feeling as embarrassed as a gawky schoolboy. But this was just Karin, his long-time colleague.

They trudged up the four flights of stairs. Outside her door, he held his breath so as not to reveal how out of shape he was. Lately he hadn’t been getting as much exercise as usual.

Knutas had been to Jacobsson’s flat before, but that was a long time ago, when she once gave a small party for her colleagues.

He’d forgotten how attractive her place was. Wide wooden floorboards, a high ceiling, plasterwork on the ceiling, and country-style furniture mixed with modern pieces. Cosy and tasteful. And there was nothing wrong with the view, either, although at the moment the sea was barely visible in the dark.

‘Good morning!’ shouted Vincent enthusiastically when the lights were switched on. Knutas cautiously poked his finger through the bars of the cage where the cockatoo was enthroned in the middle of the living room.

‘I didn’t know you still had the bird,’ Knutas called to Jacobsson, who was out in the kitchen.

‘Yes, well, I don’t think I could live without him.’

She came in holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses.

‘That looks expensive.’

‘Oh, it’s been in the fridge for a while. We might as well finish it off. I love champagne. What kind of music would you like to listen to?’

‘Have you got anything by the Weeping Willows?’

‘Of course.’ She raised her eyebrows appreciatively. ‘I thought you were going to say Simon and Garfunkel, or something else from the Stone Age.’

Everybody at police headquarters was always teasing Knutas about driving around in his old Mercedes, weeping over ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’.

Jacobsson sat down in an armchair, while Knutas, with his long legs, chose the sofa. She lit a few candles standing on the coffee table and filled their glasses with ice-cold champagne.

‘God, that’s good,’ said Knutas. ‘Really delicious.’

‘Isn’t it? People should drink champagne more often.’

Both of them fell silent.

‘So how have things been going for you?’ Knutas asked awkwardly after a moment.

‘What? How are things going? Good, fine, damned good, actually.’

‘Great.’

He took a sip of his champagne. Why did she always have to be so secretive? Especially since he told her practically everything about himself. She was the one person at work he could really talk to, and she knew almost everything about him and Lina. Except for the recent lull in their relationship, which he hadn’t yet mentioned.

On the other hand, he knew very little about Karin. She was almost forty, and he thought she was very attractive, but year after year she had remained single. He never heard about any boyfriends, at any rate. Occasionally he’d asked her personal questions, but she’d made it clear that she didn’t want to talk about herself. Consequently, he’d stopped asking about her private life. Yet she was more than willing to talk about ordinary, trivial matters, such as soccer, which played an important role in her life, and her friends and other activities. But never about how she was feeling or her problems, and definitely not about her love life.

The conversation lagged, as if the fact that the two of them found themselves alone in Karin’s flat in the middle of the night was affecting them more than they had planned when she initially suggested that they go to her place.

‘Would you like something to eat?’

‘Sure. Thanks.’

She got up and went out to the kitchen. How petite she is, and dainty , he thought. Nothing like Lina. She came right back with a bowl of pretzels.

‘This is all I could find. Hope it’s OK.’

She sat down on the sofa next to him. Knutas felt his mouth go dry. He took another sip of champagne. They started up the conversation again, but he could hardly concentrate on what they were saying. The situation felt so odd. He cleared his throat and glanced at his watch.

‘Well, I think it’s about time for me to get going.’

He could have bitten his tongue. How could he sound so stilted? Like an old fogey. Annoyed with himself, he stood up. Maybe a little too quickly.

‘Right. Of course,’ said Jacobsson, brushing back a lock of hair from her forehead. She followed him out to the hall. At the door he leaned forward to give her a hug. Again it occurred to him how petite she was. Before he knew what was happening, she kissed him on the mouth. A quick, warm kiss. And yet.

‘Bye,’ she said, opening the door for him.

‘Bye. See you tomorrow.’

‘Or today, you mean.’

She smiled. There was that gap between her teeth again.

EMMA WAS AWAKENED by her own scream. The nightmare had ended with her falling into a deep abyss.

She sat up with a jolt, breathing hard and staring into the darkness. The bed was as big and hot as a desert. For a moment she sat there without moving, hardly able to think and overcome by a loneliness that seemed without end.

Not a sound came from Elin’s cot. Suddenly Emma had the feeling that something was wrong. She leaped out of bed and went over to look at her daughter. There she lay, clad only in a nappy and white knickers. She had kicked off the thin blanket in the heat.