Karin Alvtegen - Missing

'He was such a lecherous fool. Taking an unknown female to your room like that, honestly – and so ugly too. One look at that photograph was enough to tell you she must be desperate.'

Stay cool now.

'You sound bitter?' Sibylla tried to keep her tone neutral.

'Not really. It's just that I think he could've picked someone better looking. I might have felt a little happier if…'

Her voice cracked suddenly. She was sobbing, hiding her face in her hands. How about that? At least one of the marble sisters was all emotion, once you got through the layers of foundation cream.

Considering Lena Grundberg's outburst, she almost regretted that Jorgen hadn't been allowed to share her bed. She should've let him, from pure human sympathy.

'You wanted him to choose someone who'd begin to match you?' Sibylla just about managed to control her voice, keep the irritation out.

Lena Grundberg recognised the change of tone and tried to pull herself together. Her mouth still hanging open, she wiped the tears away carefully so as not to ruin her mascara.

'Yes, that's it, you know. It really would've helped.'

Sibylla was looking at woman opposite her, reflecting that after all she'd never met anyone quite like her.

'Why would it have helped?' She was actually curious to know. 'After all, you were the one suing for divorce.'

Now Lena Grundberg was back in charge, leaning back calmly in her vulgar armchair.

'I do realise that it sounds selfish, but it's humiliating for a woman to be replaced by a complete nobody, an ugly whore picked up in a hotel. It's so… tasteless.'

Oh yeah? Hey, what about this room? The inside of my rucksack looks a whole lot better, so don't sit there and fucking preach about good taste! Sibylla swallowed twice.

'You can't be sure she was a whore, can you?'

Lena Grundberg snorted, bent down to pick up an evening paper from the floor and held it out for Sibylla to see. She glanced quickly at the photo of her own face. Surely only the nose was the same.

'How can the police be so sure she's the killer?'

Lena Grundberg dropped the paper on the floor.

'They'd gone to see the receptionist together about her room.

By the morning, she was gone despite the police cordon. Seems pretty conclusive to me. Her fingerprints were all over the place. Like on Jorgen's room key.'

'What if it isn't her? Would you know if he'd had any…'

She stopped at the last moment and pretended to cough. She had been about to say '… any enemies in Lithuania or Latvia?'

She carried on coughing to cover her error. Lena Grundberg fetched a glass of water and Sibylla drank gratefully. 'Thank you,' she said. 'Sorry. I'm an asthmatic, you see.' Lena Grundberg nodded and sat down again. 'Had no what?' she asked. 'What did you say?'

'You asked if I'd know if had any – what?' 'Enemies, I guess… or something.'

Lena Grundberg was looking at her. Maybe it was time to go. She was getting ready to stand when the woman opposite her suddenly uttered one word, filled with contempt.

'Sibylla!'

Sibylla started as slapped. Their eyes met. She stayed where she was, very still.

'It's such a weird name. No normal person is called Sibylla.'

Sibylla tried breathing calmly. It had been a scary moment.

'You're right, it's really peculiar.' She sounded ingratiating. 'Though presumably the woman didn't pick it herself.'

'Oh no?'

Lena Grundberg was not good company. Sibylla wanted to get away. Still, she had taken such a lot of trouble to get here, it would be silly not to try finding out something more.

'How did he die?'

The other woman coughed.

'She slit his throat first. Then she cut him open and spread out his organs all over the floor.'

She might have been describing a new recipe.

Sibylla felt she needed air. Now. Nausea came in waves. She rose.

'I've got to go.'

The widowed Mrs Grundberg stayed in her armchair. 'I suppose I didn't exactly meet your expectations?' For once she could answer truthfully. 'No, not really.'

Lena Grundberg nodded, looking down. 'We all deal with things differently.' Sibylla nodded too.

'Of course… thank you for letting me talk to you.'

She put her shoes on in the hall. Lena Grundberg remained sitting where she was and without another word being said, Sibylla quietly left the house.

Her walks were her salvation. 'Going out for a walk' was a legitimate reason to leave the house and the fresh air blew away some of her stale teenage angst. Her routes were always taking her to the edge of town, avoiding the hot-dog stall in the centre. It was theHultaryd meeting-place for those who cared about meeting up. Sibylla wasn 'tone of them. It was a long time since she had positively wanted to meet anybody she knew from school in the evening. Seeing them there during the day was more than enough.

The Young People's Society for Motor Sports ran a community centre in the outskirts. It was a shabby two-storey house with its ground floor turned into a mechanics' workshop. The distance from central Hultaryd was a measure of the low status of the YPSMS members, but at least in some cases alienation seemed to be what was wanted.

She would probably never have noticed him, if she hadn't happen to pass just when he was bending over the engine of a souped-up old banger with very fancy paint-work. She stopped some twenty yards away to admire the effect. The car was pea-green with vivid flames streaming from below towards the rear wings. She had never seen anything like it.

She was trying to hang about casually, but after a while he looked up and spoke to her.

'Cool, isn't it?' He was wiping his oily hands on a rag.

She nodded.

'De Soto Firedome, from '59. I just had it back after a re-spray.'

She couldn't think of any response. There seemed to be nothing

to say. Most of all, she was amazed that anyone in Hultaryd had been able to paint the flames so beautifully.

'Want a go? Just try sitting in it?' When she still didn't answer he shut the bonnet and waved at her. 'Come on, have a look. The seats are covered in real leather.'

She came closer. He was obviously keen to show off his car, which seemed innocent enough. She had never been in a car like that and couldn't remember ever having seen him before. He looked quite a bit older than her.

He threw the oily rag away. Then he wiped his hands on the sides of his jeans and opened the passenger door for her. After only a few seconds' hesitation she did what he obviously wanted her to do. The seat upholstery felt like an armchair.

'It's a great car. V-eight engine, 305 horsepower.'

'Terrific' She smiled cautiously at him.

He went round to the driver's side and opened the door.

'Can you reach the blanket on the back seat?'

Sibylla got hold of the brown, checked blanket and handed it to him. He put it on the seat before he jumped in.

'Coming along for a drive? He was already turning the key.

She stared at him.

'I'm not sure… I should go back home…' The engine was humming. He pressed a button and her window went down.

'Electric circuit operating the windows. You want to check it out?'

She pressed the button. The window closed smoothly. She looked at him again, meeting his smiling face. Two dimples had appeared in his cheeks.

He got into gear and put his arm at the back of her seat. Her heart was beating harder now, because his gesture seemed so intimate even though it was probably just practical. Looking out through the rear window, he reversed into the road.

How come she was suddenly sitting in a suspect-looking car next to a complete stranger? What if anyone saw her?

'I'll drive you home. Where do you live?'

Sibylla swallowed.