rather the ones from the seventies in the center of Gråbo that had given rise to the neighborhood’s unfavorable reputation, thought Fredrik when he rang Traneus-Helin’s doorbell.
The woman who opened the door looked to be somewhere between twenty-five and thirty years of age, and could have been a model for the essence of Swedishness, or at least the perception of it. Tall, slender—yet sturdy—flaxen-haired and blue-eyed, steadfast lips that stood guard in front of two even rows of white teeth. She had a two-month-old baby on her arm, naked except for a diaper. A girl of about three peeked out from a doorway a ways inside the apartment.
“Gramps,” the little girl cried out and came running toward them, but slowed down and faltered about halfway, frightened either by the strange men or by the fact that her great-grandfather didn’t seem to take any notice of her.
Rune Traneus stared vacantly at his filial granddaughter.
“Grandpa, what’s wrong?” asked Sofia Traneus and then turned to Fredrik questioningly, when she noticed that she wasn’t getting an answer.
Fredrik and Gustav already had their badges out and introduced themselves.
“I can’t help thinking that something terrible must have happened, seeing you show up like this. Something I don’t want to hear,” said Sofia.
She hoisted her baby a little higher and pulled it closer to her.
“There has been a very serious incident, but whether it has any connection to you, we don’t yet know. But with a little help we should be able to sort it out,” said Fredrik. “Could we come in for a moment?”
“Sure, come in,” said Sofia.
Fredrik saw how her expression changed from an initial look of confusion to one of apprehension of impending calamity. It turned in on itself and became completely exposed all at the same time. He had seen that transformation many times before.
They all went into the sunny kitchen, the girl with a firm grip at the knee of her mother’s jeans. After having sat Rune Traneus down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table, Fredrik gave Sofia a quick rundown of events, in a manner that was both as sensitive as possible while at the same time being as unintelligible as possible for the three-year-old.
“Your grandfather seems to think that one of the victims could be your father. We haven’t quite been able to work out why that is, nor have we found anything specific to suggest that to be the case.”
Rune Traneus shook his head slowly. Apparently he had absorbed something of what they had said. Sofia looked at him with glistening eyes and sank down on the chair opposite him.
“Grandpa?” she whispered.
Fredrik hadn’t said anything about Anders Traneus’s car having been parked outside the house. There was absolutely no reason to bring that up just then. Sofia Traneus was worried enough as it was.
“Do you have any idea why your grandfather might think that?”
Sofia looked up at Fredrik and it was clear that she didn’t have the slightest idea.
The girl crawled up into her lap without it occurring to Sofia to help her, and soon she was sitting there burdened with both children. The three-year-old leaned her head against her mother’s chest, hugged her mother’s arm and peered timidly at her great-grandfather.
“Mommy? Mommy?”
“Yes, sweetie, it’s all right. Mommy just has to speak to these gentlemen here a little bit.”
Fredrik looked at the three generations sitting around the table and gave up any ambitions he had of questioning the woman properly. This wasn’t the right moment.
“Do you have a photograph of your father? A fairly recent one. That would be very helpful,” he said and wondered at the same time if they would have much use of a photograph given the condition of the face.
Sofia nodded and stood up. The girl slid down from her lap and grabbed hold of her right leg with both arms.
“I should have something, I guess.”
She shuffled out of the room with her daughter
The woman who opened the door looked to be somewhere between twenty-five and thirty years of age, and could have been a model for the essence of Swedishness, or at least the perception of it. Tall, slender—yet sturdy—flaxen-haired and blue-eyed, steadfast lips that stood guard in front of two even rows of white teeth. She had a two-month-old baby on her arm, naked except for a diaper. A girl of about three peeked out from a doorway a ways inside the apartment.
“Gramps,” the little girl cried out and came running toward them, but slowed down and faltered about halfway, frightened either by the strange men or by the fact that her great-grandfather didn’t seem to take any notice of her.
Rune Traneus stared vacantly at his filial granddaughter.
“Grandpa, what’s wrong?” asked Sofia Traneus and then turned to Fredrik questioningly, when she noticed that she wasn’t getting an answer.
Fredrik and Gustav already had their badges out and introduced themselves.
“I can’t help thinking that something terrible must have happened, seeing you show up like this. Something I don’t want to hear,” said Sofia.
She hoisted her baby a little higher and pulled it closer to her.
“There has been a very serious incident, but whether it has any connection to you, we don’t yet know. But with a little help we should be able to sort it out,” said Fredrik. “Could we come in for a moment?”
“Sure, come in,” said Sofia.
Fredrik saw how her expression changed from an initial look of confusion to one of apprehension of impending calamity. It turned in on itself and became completely exposed all at the same time. He had seen that transformation many times before.
They all went into the sunny kitchen, the girl with a firm grip at the knee of her mother’s jeans. After having sat Rune Traneus down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table, Fredrik gave Sofia a quick rundown of events, in a manner that was both as sensitive as possible while at the same time being as unintelligible as possible for the three-year-old.
“Your grandfather seems to think that one of the victims could be your father. We haven’t quite been able to work out why that is, nor have we found anything specific to suggest that to be the case.”
Rune Traneus shook his head slowly. Apparently he had absorbed something of what they had said. Sofia looked at him with glistening eyes and sank down on the chair opposite him.
“Grandpa?” she whispered.
Fredrik hadn’t said anything about Anders Traneus’s car having been parked outside the house. There was absolutely no reason to bring that up just then. Sofia Traneus was worried enough as it was.
“Do you have any idea why your grandfather might think that?”
Sofia looked up at Fredrik and it was clear that she didn’t have the slightest idea.
The girl crawled up into her lap without it occurring to Sofia to help her, and soon she was sitting there burdened with both children. The three-year-old leaned her head against her mother’s chest, hugged her mother’s arm and peered timidly at her great-grandfather.
“Mommy? Mommy?”
“Yes, sweetie, it’s all right. Mommy just has to speak to these gentlemen here a little bit.”
Fredrik looked at the three generations sitting around the table and gave up any ambitions he had of questioning the woman properly. This wasn’t the right moment.
“Do you have a photograph of your father? A fairly recent one. That would be very helpful,” he said and wondered at the same time if they would have much use of a photograph given the condition of the face.
Sofia nodded and stood up. The girl slid down from her lap and grabbed hold of her right leg with both arms.
“I should have something, I guess.”
She shuffled out of the room with her daughter
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