The Stone Cutter

GÖTEBORG 1958

Something was wrong. She had let it go on for far too long. A year and a half had passed since Äke died, and Per-Erik had met her demands for action with excuses that kept getting vaguer and vaguer. Recently he had scarcely bothered to answer her at all, and the phone calls summoning her to the Hotel Eggers were now few and far between. She had begun to hate that place. The soft hotel sheets against her skin and the impersonal furniture now filled her with a nauseating revulsion. She wanted something else. She deserved something better. She deserved to move into his big villa, to be allowed to be the hostess at his parties, to be given respect, status, and mention in the society columns. Who did he think she was, anyway?

Agnes trembled with rage as she sat behind the steering wheel. Through the windscreen she saw Per-Erik's big white-brick villa, and behind the curtains she glimpsed a shadow moving through the rooms. His Volvo wasn't parked on the drive. It was Tuesday morning, so he was no doubt at work, and Elisabeth was at home alone, probably devoting herself to being the excellent little housewife she was. Hemming tablecloths or polishing the silver or doing some other boring task that Agnes would never stoop to do. Surely Elisabeth had no idea that her life was about to be smashed to bits.

Agnes felt not the slightest hesitation. The thought didn't even occur to her that Per-Erik's ever more evasive manner might be due to a fading enthusiasm for her. No, it must be Elisabeth's fault that he still hadn't come to her as a free man. She pretended to be so helpless, so pitiful and dependent, just to bind him to her. But Agnes saw through that act, even though Per-Erik did not. And if he wasn't man enough to confront his wife, Agnes had no such scruples. She got out of the car with determined steps, wrapped her fur coat tighter in the November chill and walked quickly up the path to the front door.

Elisabeth opened it after only two rings and broke into a smile that made Agnes writhe with contempt. She longed to wipe that smile off her face.

'Well, if it isn't Agnes! How lovely of you to come and visit.'

Agnes saw that Elisabeth meant what she said, while at the same time she had a slightly puzzled look. Of course Agnes had been a guest in their home before, but only at dinner parties and celebrations. She had never before dropped by unannounced.

'Come in,' said Elisabeth. 'You'll have to excuse the mess. If I'd known you were coming, I would have picked up.'

Agnes stepped into the hall and looked round for the mess that Elisabeth mentioned. All she could see was that everything was in its proper place, which confirmed her image of Elisabeth as the ultimate, pathetic homemaker.

'Have a seat and I'll fetch some coffee,' said Elisabeth politely, and before Agnes could stop her she was on her way to the kitchen.

Agnes hadn't intended to have a coffee klatsch with Per-Erik's wife. She had planned to get what she'd come for and leave as quickly as possible, but she reluctantly hung up her fur coat and sat down on the sofa in the living room. No sooner had she sat down than Elisabeth appeared with a tray holding cups and thick slices of sponge cake. She set the tray on the dark, highly polished coffee table. The coffee must have been already brewed, because she hadn't been gone more than a couple of minutes.

Elisabeth sat down in the easy chair next to the sofa.

'Please have some sponge cake. I baked it today.'

Agnes looked with distaste at the cake saturated with butter and sugar and said, 'I'll just have coffee, thank you.' She reached for one of the two porcelain cups on the tray She sipped the coffee, which was strong and good.

'Yes, I can see that you still watch your figure,' Elisabeth said with a laugh, taking a slice of sponge cake. 'I lost that battle after I had kids,' she said, nodding towards a photo of their three children, who were now all grown-up. Agnes pondered for a moment how they would take the news of their parents' divorce and their new stepmother, but felt assured that with a little effort she'd be able to win them over to her side. In time they would probably see how much more she had to offer Per-Erik than Elisabeth did.

She watched the cake vanish into Elisabeth's mouth, and her hostess reached for another slice. The unbridled craving for sweets reminded Agnes of her daughter, and she had to stop herself from leaning over and tearing the sponge cake out of Elisabeth's hand, the same way she used to do with the girl. Instead she smiled courteously and said, 'I realize that you must think it's a bit odd for me to show up like this unannounced, but unfortunately I have something unpleasant to tell you.'

'Something unpleasant? What on earth could that be?' said Elisabeth in a tone that should have alerted Agnes if she hadn't been so intent on what she was about to do.

'Well, it's like this, you see,' said Agnes, carefully setting down her coffee cup. 'Per-Erik and I have come to… well, we've developed a great fondness for each other. And we've felt this way for quite a long while.'

'And now you want to build a life together,' Elisabeth filled in. Agnes was relieved that the whole thing was going more smoothly than she thought. Then she looked at Elisabeth and realized that something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Per-Erik's wife was regarding her with a sardonic smile, and her gaze had a coldness to it that Agnes had never seen in her before.

'I understand that this may come as a shock…' Agnes began, now unsure whether her carefully prepared speech would still hold.

'My dear Agnes, I've known about your little relationship since it started. We have an understanding, Per-Erik and I, and it works admirably for both of us. Surely you didn't think you were the first, did you? Or the last?' said Elisabeth in a nasty tone of voice that made Agnes want to raise her hand and give her a slap.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Agnes in desperation, feeling the floor giving way beneath her feet.

'Don't tell me you hadn't noticed that Per-Erik was beginning to lose interest. He doesn't ring you as often, you have a hard time getting hold of him, he seems distracted when you meet. Oh yes, I know my husband well enough after forty years of marriage to know how he would act in such a situation. And I also know that the new object of his desire is a thirty-year-old brunette who works as a secretary at his firm.'

'You're lying,' said Agnes, seeing Elisabeth's plump features as if in a fog.

'You can believe what you like. Just ask Per-Erik yourself. Now I think you should go.'

Elisabeth got up, went out to the hall, and demonstratively held up Agnes's shimmering grey fur coat. Still incapable of taking in what Elisabeth had said, Agnes mutely followed her hostess. In shock she then stood on the front steps and let the wind shove her gently from side to side, feeling the familiar rage rising up inside her. It was even stronger because she felt that she should have known better. She shouldn't have thought that she could trust a man. Now she was being punished by being betrayed once again.

As if wading through water, she headed for the car she had parked a bit down the street and then sat motionless in the driver's seat for a long time. Her thoughts scurried back and forth in her head like ants, digging deep tunnels of hatred and a desire for revenge. All the events of the past that she had long ago stuffed in the far reaches of her memory now came seeping out. Her knuckles holding the wheel turned white. She leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. Images of the horrible years in the stonecutter's house came to her, and she could smell the muck and sweat from the men who came home after a day's work. She remembered the pains that made her slip in and out of consciousness when the boys were born. The smell of smoke when the houses in Fjällbacka burned, the breeze on the ship to New York, the hum of the crowds and the sound of popping champagne corks, the moans of pleasure from the nameless men who had lain with her, Mary's weeping when she was abandoned on the dock, the sound of Äke's breathing as it slowly flagged and then stopped, Per-Erik's voice when he made her one promise after another. The promises he never intended to keep. All that and more flickered past behind her closed eyelids, and nothing she saw quelled her fury, which was rising to a crescendo. She had done everything to gain the life she deserved, recreate the luxury to which she was born. But life, or fate, had kept tripping her up. Everyone had been against her and done his best to take from her what was rightfully hers: first her father, then Anders, the American suitors, Äke and now Per-Erik. A long series of men whose common denominator was that in various ways they had all exploited and betrayed her. As twilight fell, all these actual and imagined offences coalesced into a single burning point in Agnes's brain. With an empty gaze she stared at Per-Erik's driveway, and slowly a great calm descended over her as she sat in the car. Once before in her life she had felt the same sense of calm, and she knew that it came from the certainty that now there was only one course of action left.

By the time the headlights of his car finally cut through the darkness, Agnes had been sitting stock still for nearly three hours, but she was unaware of the time that had passed. Time no longer had any relevance. All her senses were focused on the task that lay before her, and there was not a shred of doubt in her mind. All logic, all knowledge of consequences had been eradicated in favour of instinct and a desire to act.

With eyes narrowed she saw him park the car, take his briefcase which always lay beside him on the passenger seat, and step out. As he conscientiously locked the car she cautiously started her engine and put the car in gear. Then everything happened very fast. She stomped the gas pedal to the floor and the car rushed towards its unsuspecting target. She cut across a patch of lawn and not until the car was only a few metres away did Per-Erik sense that something was happening and turn round. For a fraction of a second their eyes met, and then he was struck directly in the midriff and slammed into the side of his own car. With his arms outstretched he lay collapsed over the bonnet of her car. She saw his eyelids flutter and then slowly close.

Behind the wheel Agnes was smiling. No one betrayed her and got away with it.

Anna awoke with the same feeling of hopelessness she felt every morning. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept through an entire night. Instead she devoted the dark hours to pondering how she and the kids could escape this situation she had put them in.

Lucas was sleeping calmly next to her. Sometimes he would turn in his sleep and put his arm over her, and she had to grit her teeth not to jump out of bed in disgust. It wasn't worth what would follow.

The past few days everything had seemed to accelerate. His outbursts came more frequently, and she felt as if together they were stuck in a spiral that was spinning ever faster, sending them into the abyss. Only one of them would return from those depths. Which of them it would be, she didn't know. But both of them couldn't exist at the same time. She had read somewhere about a theory claiming there was a parallel universe with a parallel twin of every living organism, and if you ever met your twin, both of you would be instantly annihilated. That was how it was with her and Lucas, but their destruction was slower and more excruciating.

They hadn't been out of the flat in several days now.

When she heard Adrian's voice from the mattress in the corner, she got up cautiously to go and fetch him. It wouldn't do to wake Lucas.

Together they went out to the kitchen and began to make breakfast. Lucas was eating almost nothing these days and had grown so thin that his clothes hung loose on his body. But he still demanded to have three meals a day set on the table at specified times.

Adrian whined and refused to sit in his highchair. She desperately shushed him, but he was in a rotten mood because he slept poorly at night. He seemed to be plagued by nightmares. Now he got louder and louder, and nothing Anna did seemed to help. With a sinking feeling in her chest she heard Lucas stirring in the bedroom, and at the same moment Emma began to shout. Anna's instinct told her to flee, but she knew that it was hopeless. All she could do was steel herself and in the best case try to protect the children.

'What the fuck is going on here?' Lucas yelled in English. He loomed in the doorway, and the eerie look in his eye was there again. It was an empty, insane, and cold look, and she knew that it would eventually spell their doom.

'Can't you get your children to shut the fuck up?' Now his tone was no longer loud and threatening, but almost gentle. This was the tone she feared most.

'I'm doing the best I can,' she replied in Swedish, and she heard how squeaky her voice sounded.

Sitting in his highchair Adrian had now worked himself up to a fit of hysteria. He shrieked and banged on the table with his spoon. 'No eat. No eat,' he repeated over and over.

Frantically Anna tried again to shush him, but he was so wound up he couldn't stop.

'You don't have to eat. You're excused. You don't have to,' she said soothingly and began to lift him down from the chair.

'He's gonna eat the bloody food,' said Lucas, his voice still calm. Anna felt herself freeze. Adrian was now struggling wildly because she wouldn't put him down as promised, but instead was trying to force him back into the highchair.

'No eat, no eat!' he screamed at the top of his lungs, and it took all Anna's strength to keep him in the chair.

With cold resolve Lucas took one of the bread slices Anna had put out on the table. He put one hand on Adrian's head and held it In an iron grip, and with the other he began to force the bread into his mouth. The little boy began to thrash with his arms, first in anger and then with rising panic, as the big hunk of bread filled his mouth, making it harder and harder to breathe.

Anna stood almost paralysed at first, then all her maternal instincts were aroused, and her fear of Lucas completely vanished. The only thought in her head was that her children were in need of protection, and adrenaline spurted into her bloodstream. With a primitive snarl she tore Lucas's hand away and quickly picked the bread out of Adrian's mouth, who now had tears coursing down his cheeks. Then she turned round to confront Lucas.

Faster and faster the vortex was whirling them into the abyss.

Mellberg too awoke feeling uneasy, but for much more selfish reasons. During the night he had been jolted awake several times from a sweaty dream, and the scene was always the same. He was being given the boot under unceremonious circumstances. It simply mustn't happen. There had to be some way for him to evade responsibility for yesterday's unfortunate event. The first step was to fire Ernst. This time there was no alternative. Mellberg was aware that earlier he might have been a trifle too indulgent with Lundgren, but to some extent he had felt that they were kindred souls. He at least had considerably more in common with him than with the other namby-pambies at the station. But unlike Mellberg, Ernst had now exhibited a devastating lack of judgement, and it had quite rightly been his undoing. It was a cardinal error. He really thought that Lundgren would have known better.

He sighed and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He always slept in only his underpants, and now he reached down to his crotch under his big paunch to scratch himself and rearrange his equipment. Mellberg looked at the clock. A few minutes to nine. Almost too late to show up at work, but they hadn't got out of there before eight last night, since they'd had to go over in detail everything that had happened. He'd already begun to polish up his report to his superiors. The important thing was for him to keep the facts straight and not make any blunders. Damage control was the name of the game.

He went to the living room and stood for a moment admiring Simon. He was lying on his back on the sofa, snoring with his mouth open and one leg dangling to the floor. The covers had fallen off, and Mellberg couldn't help reflecting that he had passed on his physique to his son. Simon was no skinny little wimp, but a powerfully built young man who would surely follow in his father's footsteps if he just pulled himself together.

He poked at him with his toe. 'Hey, Simon, time to wake up.'

The boy ignored him and turned over on his side with his face to the back of the sofa.

Mellberg mercilessly kept poking him. Naturally he also appreciated a chance to sleep in, but this wasn't supposed to be some holiday camp.

'Do you hear me? Get up, I said.'

Still no reaction, and Mellberg sighed. Well, he'd have to bring up the heavy artillery.

He went out to the kitchen, let the water run in the tap until it was ice-cold, filled a pitcher full of water and then walked calmly into the living room. With a cheerful smile on his lips he poured the ice-cold water over his son's uncovered body and got precisely the effect he wanted.

'What the fuck!' yelled Simon, and was off the sofa in a flash. He shivered and grabbed a towel from the floor to dry himself off.

'What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?' he said sullenly and pulled on a T-shirt with a skull on it and the name of a heavy metal band.

'Breakfast is served in five minutes,' said Mellberg as he went out to the kitchen whistling. For a brief moment he had forgotten his career-related worries and was instead extremely pleased with the plan he'd worked out for their future father-and-son activities. Lacking porn clubs and casinos, they would have to take what there was, and in Tanumshede that meant the petroglyph museum. Not because he was particularly interested in doodles carved on stone slabs, but it was at least something that they could do together. Because he had decided that would be the new theme of their relationship – togetherness. No more playing video games hour after hour, no more TV-watching until late in the evening since it effectively killed all communication. Instead they would have dinner together with fruitful discussions and afterwards possibly a game of Monopoly to round out the evening.

He enthusiastically presented his plans to Simon over breakfast but had to admit that he was a bit disappointed at the boy's reaction. Here he was taking great pains to do everything so that they could get to know each other. He was renouncing the activities he personally enjoyed and sacrificing himself by going to the museum with the boy. Simon's response was to sit there staring morosely into his bowl of Rice Krispies. Spoiled, that's what he was. His mother had sent him to his father in the nick of time. The boy clearly needed discipline and guidance.

Mellberg sighed as he headed off to work. Being a parent was a heavy responsibility.

Patrik was at work by eight o'clock. He too had slept poorly, more or less simply waiting for it to be morning so he could get going on what had to be done. The first thing was to check whether last night's conversation had made any difference. His finger trembled a little as he dialled the number that he now knew by heart.

'Uddevalla Hospital.'

He gave the name of the doctor he wanted to speak with and waited impatiently as he was paged. After what seemed like an eternity the call was put through.

'Yes, hello, this is Patrik Hedström. We spoke last night. I wonder whether my information has been of any use.'

He listened tensely and then made a gesture of victory with his clenched fist. Yes! He'd been right!

After he hung up he began whistling as he considered the consequences now that his hunch had proved to be right. They would have a lot to do today.

His second call was to the prosecutor. He had rung him with an identical request less than a year ago, and since what he had asked was so unusual, he hoped that the prosecutor wouldn't have a fit.

'Yes, you heard correctly. I need to get permission for an exhumation. Again, yes. No, not the same grave. We've already opened that one, haven't we?' He spoke slowly and clearly and tried not to sound impatient. 'Yes, it's urgent this time as well, and I'd be grateful if the request could be processed immediately. All the required documents are on the way by fax. You've probably received them already. And the documents refer to two requests, both the exhumation order and another search warrant.'

The prosecutor still seemed dubious, and Patrik felt irritation creeping over him. With a hint of sharpness in his voice he said, 'We're investigating the homicide of a child, and another person's life may be at risk. This is not a request that I make lightly. I'm doing so after careful consideration and only because the continued progress of the investigation requires it. So I'm counting on your office to pull out all the stops to process this as fast as humanly possible. I would like a reply before lunch. Regarding both matters.'

Then he hung up and hoped that his little outburst wouldn't have the opposite effect and put the brakes on the whole thing. But that was the chance he had to take.

With the worst task behind him, he made a third call. Pedersen sounded tired when he answered. 'Hello, Hedström,' he said.

'Good morning, good morning. Sounds like you had to work last night.'

'Yes, things really piled up here in the wee hours. But we're about to see the end of it, just some paperwork left and then I'm out of here.'

'Sounds like a rough night,' said Patrik and felt a little guilty because he'd rung the M.E. to nag him after what had obviously been a really tough shift.

'I assume you want the test results from the ashes on the shirt and overalls. I actually got them in late yesterday afternoon, but then things got crazy here.' He gave an exhausted sigh. 'Did I hear right that the overalls belong to your daughter?'

'Yes, that's right,' said Patrik. 'We had a nasty incident at home the other day, but thank goodness she wasn't hurt.'

'That's good to hear,' said Pedersen. 'I can understand why you're on pins and needles waiting for the result.'

'I won't deny it. But I actually didn't think that you'd have the results back already. So, what did you find out?'

Pedersen cleared his throat. 'Let's see… Yes, there doesn't seem to be any doubt. The composition of the ashes is identical with those we found in the girl's lungs.'

Patrik exhaled and then realized how tense he had been. 'So that's it, then.'

'That's it,' said Pedersen.

'Were you able to confirm the origin of the ashes? Are they from an animal or a human being?'

'Unfortunately we're not able to determine that. The remains have decayed too much, and the ash is too fine. With a bigger sample we might be able to trace it, but

'I'll wait for the news from a house search we're doing. Looking for the ashes is at the top of our list. If we find them, I'll send some over at once for analysis. Maybe you can find some larger particles,' Patrik said hopefully.

'Sure, but don't count on it,' said Pedersen.

'I don't count on anything any longer. But I can always hope.'

With the formalities taken care of, Patrik drummed his feet impatiently on the floor. Before the decision arrived from the prosecutor there wasn't much of a practical nature he could accomplish. But he knew that he wouldn't be able to sit in his office for a couple of hours twiddling his thumbs.

He'd heard the others show up at work one by one, so he decided to call a meeting. They all had to be brought up to date, and he realized that more than one of his colleagues would probably raise an eyebrow at what he had set in motion last night and this morning.

He was right. He got a lot of questions. Patrik replied as best he could, but there was still so much he couldn't explain. Way too much.

Charlotte rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She and Lilian had each been given a bed in a little room near the intensive care unit, but neither of them got much sleep. Since Charlotte hadn't brought anything with her from home, she'd slept in her clothes, and she felt incredibly rumpled and grubby when she sat up and began to stretch.

'Have you got a comb?' she asked her mother, who had also sat up.

'Yes, I think so,' said Lilian, digging in her worn handbag. She found one in the very bottom and handed it to Charlotte.

In the bathroom Charlotte stood in front of the mirror and studied herself critically. The light was mercilessly bright, clearly showing the dark circles under her eyes, and her hair stood on end in an odd, psychedelic hairdo. She carefully combed out the tangles until her hair had more or less regained her normal style. At the same time, everything to do with her appearance seemed so meaningless now. Sara kept hovering in the periphery of her vision, holding her heart in an iron grip.

Her stomach growled, but before she went down to the cafeteria she wanted to get hold of a doctor who could tell her how Stig was doing. Every time she heard footsteps outside the door during the night she had woken up, prepared to see a doctor come in with a serious expression on his face. No one had disturbed them, so she assumed that no news was good news in this case. But she still wanted to hear something, so she went out in the corridor, wondering which way to go. A nurse who passed by showed her the way to the staff lounge.

She pondered whether she should turn on her mobile and ring home to Niclas first, but decided to wait until after she talked to the doctor. He and Albin were probably still asleep, and she didn't want to risk waking them too early. Then Albin would be in a grumpy mood the rest of the day.

She stuck her head in the doorway that the nurse pointed out and cleared her throat quietly. A tall man sat drinking coffee and leafing through a magazine. From what Niclas had said it was unusual for a doctor to be able to sit down even for a moment, and she felt almost embarrassed at bothering him. Then Charlotte reminded herself why she was here and cleared her throat a little louder. This time he heard her and turned with an inquiring glance.

'Yes?'

'Excuse me, but my stepfather, Stig Florin, was admitted yesterday and we haven't heard anything since late last night. Do you know how he's doing?'

Was she imagining things, or did the doctor get a strange look on his face? If so, it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

'Stig Florin? Oh yes, we stabilized his vital signs during the night and he's awake now.'

'He is?' said Charlotte, beaming with joy. 'Could we go in and see him? My mother's here too.'

Once again that strange expression. Charlotte was starting to get uneasy despite the good news. Was there something he wasn't telling her?'

The reply came hesitantly. 'I… I don't think it's a very good idea just yet. He's still weak and needs to rest.'

'Yes, but you could let my mother in for a moment, couldn't you? It couldn't hurt, and it might even help. They're very close.'

'I can imagine,' said the doctor. 'But I'm afraid you'll have to wait. Right now nobody is being let in to see Mr Florin.'

'But why…?'

'You'll just have to wait,' the doctor said brusquely, and she began to get really annoyed with him. Didn't they have to undergo some sort of training in medical school about how to handle relatives? He was on the verge of being rude. He could thank his lucky stars that she was the one who had come to talk to him and not Lilian. If he'd treated her mother like this, he would have got such a talking-to that his ears would have fallen off. Charlotte knew that she herself was altogether too compliant in these types of situations, so she merely muttered something and then retreated to the corridor.

She thought about what she was going to say to her mother. Something had felt very odd. Things weren't as they should be, but she couldn't for the life of her understand what was wrong. Maybe Niclas could explain. She decided to take the risk and wake them up at home. She dialled the number on her mobile. Hopefully he'd be able to reassure her. She already sensed that she was probably imagining things.

After the meeting Patrik got into his car and drove to Uddevalla. It had felt impossible just to sit and wait; he had to do something. The whole way there he kept turning over his options in his mind. They were all equally unpleasant.

He'd been given directions to the ICU, but still got lost a couple of times before he found it. Why should it be so damned hard to find his way in a hospital? It must have to do with his unusually lousy sense of direction. Erica was the navigator in the family. Sometimes he thought she had some kind of sixth sense for steering them in the right direction.

He stopped a nurse. 'I'm looking for Rolf Wiesel. Where can I find him?'

She pointed down the corridor. A tall man in a white coat was walking away from him, and he called out, 'Doctor Wiesel?'

The man turned round. 'Yes?'

Patrik hurried up to him and held out his hand. 'Patrik Hedström, Tanumshede Police. We spoke last night.'

'Ah, yes,' said the doctor, pumping Patrik's hand. 'You rang in the nick of time, I have to say. We wouldn't have had any idea what sort of treatment to use otherwise, and without the right treatment we probably would have lost him.'

'I'm so glad I could help,' said Patrik, feeling embarrassed by the man's enthusiasm. But a little proud too. It wasn't every day he saved somebody's life.

'Come with me,' said Dr Wiesel, gesturing towards a door that led to the staff lounge. The doctor went first and Patrik followed.

'Would you like some coffee?'

'Yes, please,' said Patrik, realizing that he'd forgotten to get a cup at the station. There had been so many thoughts buzzing round in his head that he'd even missed such a crucial part of his morning routine.

They sat down at the sticky kitchen table and sipped their coffee, which tasted almost as bad as the coffee at the station.

'Sorry, I think it's been sitting in the pot too long,' said Dr Wiesel, but Patrik raised his hand as a sign that it didn't matter.

'So, how did you reach the conclusion that our patient had arsenic poisoning?' the doctor asked with curiosity. Patrik told him how he'd been watching a programme on the Discovery Channel and then put it together with certain information he'd received earlier.

'Well, it's not the most common toxin, which is why we had a hard time identifying it,' said Dr Wiesel, shaking his head.

'How does the prognosis look now?'

'He'll survive. But he'll suffer the after-effects for the rest of his life. He's probably been ingesting arsenic for a long time, and it seems as though the last dose he got was massive. But we'll be able to determine that later.'

'By analysing his hair and nails?' said Patrik, who had gleaned that much from the programme last night.

'Yes, precisely. Arsenic remains in the body in the hair and nails.

By analysing the quantity and comparing it with the speed at which hair and nails grow, we can see almost exactly when he received the doses of arsenic and even how big they were.'

'And you've seen to it that he has no visitors?'

'Yes, we did that last night when we confirmed that it was indeed arsenic poisoning. No visitors are allowed at all, except the relevant medical personnel. His stepdaughter was just here and asked after him. I told her only that his condition was stable and that they couldn't see him yet.'

'Good,' said Patrik.

'Do you know who did it?' the doctor asked cautiously.

Patrik thought for a moment before he replied. 'We have our suspicions. Hopefully we'll have them confirmed today.'

'I hope so. Anyone capable of something like this shouldn't be on the loose. Arsenic poisoning causes particularly painful symptoms before the onset of death. The victim goes through terrible suffering.'

'So I understand,' said Patrik grimly. 'I hear there's a disease that can be mistaken for arsenic poisoning.'

The doctor nodded. 'Guillain-Barre, yes. The body's own immune system begins to attack the nerves and destroys the myelin sheath. That produces very similar symptoms to arsenic poisoning. If you hadn't phoned us it's not too far-fetched to believe that we might have come up with that diagnosis.'

Patrik smiled. 'Well, it's nice to get lucky sometimes.' Then he turned serious again. 'But as I said, make sure that no one is allowed in his room. Then we'll do our job as best we can this afternoon.'

They shook hands, and Patrik went back out to the corridor. He thought for a moment that he glimpsed Charlotte in the distance. Then the door closed behind him.