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for.”
    “We’d never go anywhere if we waited until all our bills were paid. When’s the last time we took a trip?”
    “Okay, you’ve got a point, but how much does it cost?”
    “We can afford it. That’s all that matters.”
    “But now that . . .”
    “There’s no time like the present.”
    “I admit it would be wonderful.” She still sounded hesitant.
    “Two weeks. And the sooner we leave, the better.”
    “How are we going to get tickets on such short notice?”
    “Hard cash.”

    Winter got hold of Bolger late in the afternoon.
    “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Bolger said when he heard Winter’s voice.
    “This is strictly business.”
    “Got you.”
    “Even if I’m taking advantage of our friendship.”
    “Now you’ve lost me.”
    “There’s something I need to ask you.”
    “Fire away.”
    “Not on the phone. Can you hang around until I get there?”
    “Sure thing.”
    Winter was at Bolger’s bar in fifteen minutes. Three customers at a table by the window gave him the once-over. Bolger offered him a drink, but he turned it down.
    “Do you know an Englishman by the name of Robertson?” Winter asked.
    “An Englishman, did you say?”
    “British at least.”
    “What did you say his name was?”
    “Robertson, Jamie Robertson.”
    “Jamie Robertson? I know who he is, although we haven’t really been introduced. He’s not English, by the way. He’s Scottish.”
    “Okay, Scottish.”
    “It’s sort of obvious when he talks.”
    “Has he ever worked here?”
    “No.”
    “Do you know whether he’s worked anyplace other than O’Briens?”
    “No, but I don’t think he’s been in Gothenburg very long. Ask over at O’Briens.”
    “I will.”
    “Has something happened?”
    “He’s been murdered.”
    Bolger seemed to pale, as if someone had changed the bulb in the overhead lamp.
    “This isn’t confidential information or anything,” Winter clarified.
    “It’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
    “In any case, I could really use your help.”
    “Since when did you ever need my help?”
    “Don’t be childish, Johan.”
    “Why the hell would you need my help? You’re smart enough for the two of us.”
    “Would you please give me a chance to tell you what I want?”
    Bolger glanced over at the waitress behind the bar as if he wanted another drink, then apparently thought better of it.
    “You’re in touch with guys in the business,” Winter said, “and people who know their way around the city.”
    “So are you.”
    “You know what I’m getting at.”
    “Sure, you want a petty criminal to do some snooping for you.”
    “Cut it out, Johan.”
    “Do they let you use informants who’ve been hospitalized for depression?”
    “It’s like this, Johan. We’re doing all we can, but I want you to try to remember what you know about Jamie. Who he knew, who he spent his time with. Girlfriends—or boyfriends, if it was that way.”
    “I understand.”
    “Think about it.”
    “Okay.”
    “Ask around if you need to.”
    “I promise.”

9
    WlNTER SAT ON RINGMAR’S DESK , HlS JACKET HALF UNBUTTONED, his holster girded by the gleam of his silk shirt. Ringmar knew that he himself could never sit there with the same kind of elegant nonchalance. His legs were too short and his suits too cheap and his shirt didn’t shine the same way.
    “How many times have we talked to Geoff’s parents in London?” Winter asked.
    “Two or three.”
    “I’m still thinking about the letter someone wrote to him.”
    “Me too.”
    “He didn’t give anything to someone else, did he?”
    “Not that we know of.”
    “There was something in the witness statement of his pen pal. Geoff wrote that he would be coming to Gothenburg, and she answered right away. But that was the end of their correspondence.”
    “Right.”
    “Shouldn’t he have responded eventually? Isn’t that what pen pals are supposed to do?” Winter paused for a moment. “Englishmen don’t waste their