Thomas leaned back on his chair and linked his hands behind his head. It was an interesting theory that sounded plausible. Once again he recalled what Agneta Ahlin had told him: Kicki Berggren had said the money was on Sandhamn. Was she thinking about Fahlén’s money?

Nora was waving yet another piece of paper. “There’s more. The fees paid to board members have also increased significantly.”

“During the same period when all this other stuff was going on?”

Nora nodded. “For a long time the board members received an annual payment of fifty thousand kronor. Four years ago that payment was increased to six hundred thousand kronor a year for each member. The amount has remained the same until now.”

Thomas whistled. Six hundred thousand. That wasn’t bad. Far more than most people could expect to earn in a year. “And who’s on the board?” he asked as he gazed at the piles of documents on the table.

Nora found the registration certificate and passed it over to him. “There are only three members: Philip Fahlén; his father, who must be almost ninety judging by his ID number; and a woman called Marianne Strindberg.”

Thomas took the certificate and studied it closely. He was so absorbed that he barely noticed when the waitress asked him for the second time whether he would like coffee or a dessert. He ordered a double espresso. No dessert. Nora did the same, after sadly concluding that the tempting chocolate mousse wasn’t really suitable for a diabetic.

“Strindberg,” Thomas said. “I recognize the name, but I can’t place it. Apart from the famous playwright, of course,” he said and smiled.

“She joined the board in 2000,” Nora pointed out. “An interesting coincidence, wouldn’t you say? The same year the company increased its profits so dramatically. Before that the board consisted of Philip Fahlén and his father, with his mother as a deputy member.”

Thomas sipped his espresso, which had just arrived, relishing the deep coffee flavor. His face clearly revealed that he had just thought of something. “Viking Strindberg,” he said as he put down his cup. “Krister Berggren’s boss is called Strindberg.”

“What if he’s married to a woman called Marianne?” Nora said, excited.

“He seemed inexplicably nervous when I spoke to him,” Thomas said. “I wonder if this could be a coincidence?” He raised his glass in a toast. “Here’s to you, Nora. This is fantastic. I’m glad you persuaded me to come over. You’re a master detective, no doubt!”

THURSDAY, THE FOURTH WEEK

CHAPTER 57

“How’s it going?”

Carina looked up to see Margit standing in the doorway of her office. The day had hardly begun. The corridors were still silent, but Carina had been working since seven thirty. There was nothing wrong with her ambition. Her desk was cluttered with piles of paper.

“The ferry company sent this over yesterday, but I haven’t had time to go through it all yet.” She rubbed her eyes and stretched.

“Have you found anything?” Margit asked.

Carina shook her head. “I’ve hardly started. Do you know how many passengers a ferry to Finland carries? Thousands at a time. And they’re listed according to the order in which they bought their tickets. The guy I spoke to said there was some kind of computer error that meant they couldn’t sort the names into alphabetical order, and I’ve only got hard copies of everything, nothing digital.” She held out a bundle of lists. “I’m looking for anyone with a name that’s similar to Almhult or Fahlén; it could be misspelled.” She looked down at the lists. Row upon row of names. “And then of course we don’t know whether Fahlén used his own name. It might almost be easier to wait for the electronic file so I can sort it on the computer instead.”

“But we can’t afford to wait, so I’m afraid you’ll just have to keep looking,” Margit said. She turned away, then stuck her head in the door again. “You are starting with Sunday’s departures, I presume?”

Carina raised her eyebrows. “Of course.”

Margit smiled. “I should have realized. I know you’re doing your best.”

Carina shook her head. “No problem. I’ll let you know as soon as I find something.”

Margit went to get herself another cup of coffee. She looked at her watch: twenty to nine. Thomas was seeing Philip Fahlén this morning to push him harder. He had called her late last night to tell her about Nora’s scrutiny of Fahlén’s accounts and the conclusions they had drawn.

Margit and Thomas had agreed that he would stay over and visit Fahlén the following morning in order to confront him with the information. Better to try to take him by surprise one last time, rather than bring him in for a formal interview where he could have his lawyer present.

Things were certainly starting to look awkward for Mr. Fahlén, Margit thought. As soon as she saw that horrible green house she had felt that something wasn’t right. Something didn’t ring true.

Her task this morning was to chase details of his recent phone calls, and perhaps even get a warrant to tap his phone.

She called the prosecutor’s number.

CHAPTER 58

Thomas had gratefully accepted the loan of the Linde family’s launch so he could get over to his own house on Harö for the night and come back to Sandhamn the following morning in plenty of time to see Philip Fahlén. He moored the little boat at the Lindes’ jetty and set off for Västerudd at a rapid pace. It was slightly cooler than it had been earlier in the week; the morning air was fresh and clear. A much more pleasant temperature than the stifling heat of the last few days.

As he walked he took the opportunity to call Carina. He asked her to find out if Marianne Strindberg was married to a man called Viking and if they both lived at the same address in Tyresö that appeared on the registration certificate for Fahlén & Co. When she confirmed that this was the case, Thomas couldn’t help smiling.

Philip Fahlén opened the door as soon as Thomas knocked. Reluctantly he showed Thomas into the kitchen and pointed to a chair. He didn’t look well; his face was red, and he had noticeable bags under his eyes.

“So,” he said, “what is it this time?”

“I’d like to ask you a few more questions.”

Thomas ignored the obvious antipathy coming from Fahlén. This time he was determined to back the man into a corner. He sat down; Fahlén moved to the other side of the table, as far away from Thomas as possible.

“I’m interested in your company. I believe it’s been doing much better over the past few years? You’ve made an impressive profit since the millennium, as I understand it.”