BUT SERIOUSLY, CHRISTINA. IS IT REALLY TIME TO START WITH the Christmas decorations now in the middle of November?” Martha wondered the next day, gesturing toward the deck. Christina had put up a Christmas tree with colorful angels on it, there were lights on the restaurant roof and glitter around every stay. Here and there hung glass balls and red lanterns, and instead of the usual old car tires between the barge and the quay she had now hung up fenders in white and blue. Together with the flashing lamps she had put on either side of the entrance down to the VIP lounge, the Silver Punk restaurant now looked almost more like a nightclub than a restaurant.
“Christmas decorations? There is nothing wrong with them, surely?”
“Sorry, Christina, but we do have flowers as well. And those colored fenders, isn’t that just going too far?”
“But colors are so nice, don’t you think? A guy in a Mercedes stopped on the quay yesterday, pointed at our ugly old tires and wondered if we would like some attractive fenders instead. Well, yes, so I thought we should take that chance. He said that he had bought too many for his own boat and didn’t need them. It was cheap, too, and he had them in his trunk. He got out some rope and helped to put them in place. You must admit it looks much nicer now.”
“Yes, of course,” mumbled Martha, but deep inside she thought that Christina decided far too much on her own; she did lots of things without asking the others. Martha herself always took up her ideas with the rest of the gang, but Christina just charged ahead. It is a good idea to delegate, Martha thought, but then you risked some people exceeding their ability. She just hoped that wasn’t going to apply to her friend. Martha didn’t say any more, but to be on the safe side, she decided to keep an eye on her. She was relieved that Christina had decided that the cook should be in charge of the kitchen this important evening, because Anna-Greta had asked her to help look after the dating table. And that was something that Christina was certainly passionate about. The idea of bringing lonely people together so that they could have a more pleasant life had inspired her to such a degree that she had contacted the media. Radio Stockholm and the Kungsholmen district local paper had reported about this new way to meet people, and the restaurant was fully booked for the rest of the week. However, the massive interest was driving Christina nuts. She had been nervous earlier, but now she was close to being a nervous wreck. So Martha had secretly added a bit of rum to their morning coffee and had said that it was a special Colombian blend. After two cups of this special coffee (because it was so tasty, she thought), Christina had—thank God—relaxed and become much happier. And that was lucky for everybody because the restaurant was already full at 6 o’clock and it was high time to open the day’s speed dating.
FORMER CHIEF INSPECTOR BLOMBERG HAD DRESSED SMARTLY and stood preening himself in front of the hall mirror. In his gray tweed suit, blue lamb’s wool sweater, light-blue shirt and matching tie with cats on it, he felt he was really stylish. His shoes were polished to a shine, his hair freshly cut and he didn’t have a beard—nor did he have any hair lotion. No, certainly not. He had heard that many women liked men to smell like men, not of cologne, so he made a point of being clean and tidy and that was all there was to it. He ran his fingers through his hair a few times before selecting a scarf that matched his antique gray overcoat. Then he brushed some dandruff off his collar and put on his newly purchased Russian fur hat with earflaps. The new restaurant Silver Punk was actually very close to the police station on Kungsholmen, and since it had been rated four stars in the local paper there was a great risk that his old colleagues might go there. Preferably, as a private sleuth with his own detective agency, he didn’t want to be recognized, but wished to be able to work in peace. Then there was another aspect: the article had mentioned that the restaurant was introducing Stockholm’s first speed dating which used a professional computer program to help you quickly find the love of your life. A tasty meal, dating, and, to top it all off, a bit of private detective work—it all suited him perfectly. Besides, he could deduct the cost as expenses for his firm as long as he remembered to keep the receipts.
Humming to himself he went out into the street and walked a few extra blocks before he reached the bus stop (the health experts had preached that if you got on a bus, you should not go to the nearest bus stop but go to one a bit further away so that you had some exercise). One bus had just left, and with an irritated snort he pulled up his collar and pulled down his earflaps. The lights of the city were reflected by the sky high above the rooftops and the sound of traffic could be heard in the distance. Everything was like it always had been, but he himself had changed his life. Admittedly, it was nice to be able to do your own thing, but earlier in life he had been married and now that he was a retiree he felt a little lonely. He got along with Einstein, but something was missing. A woman, yes, that was what he needed. He found it far too easy to stay sitting in front of the TV or computer and then, of course, nothing happened. Now, at last, the Silver Punk restaurant had got him to act. Because the target group for the restaurant was retirees, i.e., people his age, but even younger guests frequented the place too, the papers said. And if there were lots of elderly people there, he might come across something that would lead him to the seniors who had robbed the bank. Now he could look out for crooks and women at the same time. Talk about killing two birds with one stone!
He changed buses outside the Central Station and finally got off at a bus stop in Hornsberg (he didn’t bother to get off one or two stops early; there was no need to go to extremes). He walked along the quay and didn’t need to look long before he saw an illuminated barge with glitter in the stays and a brightly decorated Christmas tree up on the roof: the Silver Punk restaurant. Outside, there was a long line of people dressed for an evening out and when he came closer, he noticed the aroma of spices, cheese and grilled vegetables. Hungry, he fished out his policemen’s association card so that he wouldn’t have to wait in line, but then he remembered that it was out of date. Anyway, he was, of course, meant to be incognito. He glanced at the long line and with a sigh put the card back in his pocket.
Finally, half an hour later, he had got on board. He left his overcoat in the coatroom and combed his hair; now he ordered a beer in the bar and started to look at the ladies. He felt the butterflies in his stomach. Many of the women looked really rather nice and they were so well made up! They must have read many magazines and watched many makeover shows on TV, he thought. Nowadays a lot of older ladies also went to the gym. Indeed, many of the fifty-plus ladies here looked very fit, in every respect, and you would probably feel muscles instead of fat if you got your hand on their thighs.
He fumbled with the entrance ticket which included a round at the dating table, and felt rather exhilarated. Trying to look nonchalant, he went up to the Piet Hein-inspired table full of expectation and gave a start when he saw the iPads chained to the table top. What on earth? He circled the table once more and looked closer at the iPads. Aha, they were for the dating. But surely his requests wouldn’t be stored there? And what were those weird lamps? Holes had been drilled into the table top and small different colored lamps stuck up out of them, framing the iPads. Ah yes, the newspaper had written something about how the lamps would light up in front of the person or persons who had the qualities you were looking for. And in the same way, the lamps in front of your own iPad would light up if you yourself met the requirements that somebody else was looking for. He fumbled after his beer glass and drank to the last drop. Good heavens! This could actually be the real thing!
WHEN CHRISTINA SAW THAT THE DATING TABLE WAS FULL, SHE went up to the expectant guests, held out her arms and said in a shrill voice:
“Ladies and gentlemen, a heartfelt welcome to our little speed dating!” Her cheeks were red, and she was forever brushing away her long, wavy hair which fell down over her face—because she hadn’t learned how to fasten the fake hair in the correct way. (On one occasion, the entire hairpiece had followed along with her hand.) She looked around and smiled as heartily and warmly as she could, but all who knew her noticed how nervous she was. She had scratched away the nail polish from the thumb nail on her right hand without realizing it, and her hairpiece was a little crooked. Anna-Greta had seen it, but didn’t want to make Christina even more nervous, so she didn’t say anything. They had their work cut out as it was. There was so much pressure around the dating table that they had been obliged to provide numbered tickets and to fix a time limit of fifteen minutes for each iPad. The eager participants longing for a romantic date would have to settle for that, after which they would be shepherded into the dating corner at the bar. But there, on the other hand, they could have a beer in peace and quiet and chat with each other before hopefully continuing into the restaurant for a tasty dish.
The first dating round started somewhat cautiously, but after the lamps started to light up, things got going. A gentleman in a tweed suit, blue lamb’s wool sweater and a tie with cats on it, had got several “hits” and the lamps next to him were flashing all the time. His mood was improving too, and the slightly cautious, suspicious look he had shown at first had now been transformed into happy, glistening eyes. After a while, he went off with a lady to the dating corner where they continued to chat, but then he came back and started again.
That man didn’t seem to settle for the first chance, Anna-Greta thought, and she took an extra look at him. What sort of man was he? Men weren’t usually so fussy. Or was it because he wanted to eye Betty, who was always walking past the table on her way to the bar? Anna-Greta had seen him look up every time the full-figured waitress passed by and she and Christina looked at each other and shook their heads. Whatever did that woman have that all the guys seemed to go for?
Blomberg hadn’t felt like asking either of the two ladies that he had iPad-chatted with so far, and then tentatively conversed with in the dating corner, to dinner. No, to be honest, he found the waitress more interesting. When she swept past with her tray and her rear end swinging like a ship in a storm, well, he found it hard to concentrate. He was only human, after all. But of course she probably wasn’t his type. He would like to be able to talk and discuss with his partner-to-be, exchange ideas and have fun with her. That was why this speed-dating thing was so exciting, as it also considered people’s inner qualities. In fact, it was really fun, and he loved it when the lamps flashed. He was particularly curious about the unknown person who had got all the lamps to flash. On Blomberg’s iPad, the questionnaire from place number three had turned up and that person had the weirdest of qualities. Well, to be truthful, it was the message under “Other” that had caught Blomberg’s attention. It said: Hello darling, I love you! So somebody had discovered him, somebody had understood his not entirely uncomplicated personality. Somebody, but who? Blomberg hardly dared look, but summoned up courage, raised his head and sought out place number three. There, in front of iPad number three, sat a fat fellow with checked trousers and a gray jacket and he stank of cologne. Blomberg looked around in confusion. There must have been a faulty connection somewhere. Disappointment washed over him and he went to the bar to console himself with a beer. With the glass of beer in his hand he looked around to find the IT manager at the restaurant. Now and then, a tall lady with a stick went up to the iPads and checked them. Could it be her? No, she looked more like Kungsholmen’s answer to Mary Poppins—but with a walking stick instead of an umbrella. But when she walked past, he addressed her.
“That iPad over there, you know,” he started, and fidgeted with his beer glass. “Nice system you’ve got there, but I think there’s something wrong with my iPad. It worked all right to start with, but then—well, I didn’t exactly get a Marilyn Monroe, but him over there.” Blomberg nodded toward the fat man.
“Oh my God!” exclaimed Anna-Greta and she gave such a horsey neigh that Blomberg dropped his glass which landed on the floor and broke.
“And besides, he smells of cologne!” Blomberg complained, bending down to pick up the broken glass.
“Ugh, so horrid. A real man should smell like a man!”
“Ah, you think so?” said Blomberg, and he looked up with newly awakened interest. Of course, I don’t have any cologne, he was on the brink of saying, but he stopped himself at the last moment. Instead, he got up and held out two large bits of broken glass.
“I’m so sorry, I’ve broken a glass, I shall, of course, immediately pay for it.”
“A beer glass? Ah, that’s nothing. A miss in the Pississippi!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You can have another beer!” With large elk-size strides Anna-Greta made her way to the bar and filled a new beer glass which she gave to him. And before Blomberg had time to react she had ordered the bartender to sweep and mop the floor. Meanwhile she cleared the memory of his iPad.
“So you are looking at the talent?” she wondered when everything was ready and she nodded in the direction of the dating table.
“Talent? Well, I don’t know about that. How do you mean?” Blomberg immediately became uncertain.
“Have you found a date?” Anna-Greta wondered and she gave him a flirty wink.
“Er, hmm,” mumbled Blomberg. “Well, there was that faulty connection . . .”
“Ah, don’t worry about that, it’s already fixed. No, I’m proud of that dating program. You know, I want every single person around that table to get a hit. A real love hit. With the iPad you find out the inner qualities and in the bar you can check out appearance and chemistry. Not bad, eh? All in one. And besides, you save time.”
“Yes, indeed, it is modern.”
“It took a while to write the program but in the end I put it together.”
“Ah, so it’s you, I mean, you know all about computers?”
Anna-Greta picked at the bun at her neck and looked very pleased with herself.
“Oh yes, I do know a little, even though I missed your iPad. I didn’t want to give you a fat old fellow who smells of cologne—no, that was not the idea!” she giggled with her hand on his shoulder and a four-footed neigh of such a caliber that he almost dropped his glass again. Then he started laughing too and they carried on a long while until Anna-Great pushed her glasses up onto her forehead, dried her tears of laughter and said that it was time to get back to work.
“Well, I wonder what went wrong with the iPad?” Blomberg pondered.
“Somebody might have messed around with the system when I had my back turned,” she said.
“Messed around?”
“Yes, you must clear the memory between each user. Somebody might have locked the system by mistake. An old message might have remained in the memory.”
“What a pity, it said: ‘I love you!’.”
Anna-Greta angled her head to one side rather coquettishly.
“Yes, we do need love, don’t we? But seeing how the lamps have lit up and flashed at your place, you are bound to receive more messages, just wait and see.”
“Even the gold lamp lit up,” said Blomberg proudly and noticed to his chagrin that he was blushing. “But of course there aren’t so many available men in my age group, who are looking for mature ladies, I mean,” he smoothed over while realizing that he was really stretching the truth.
“You don’t say? That’s nice. Most elderly gentlemen are only looking for young girls, those pin-ups, you know! But heaven knows how that will make them happier. And once they’ve got what they are after, they have no idea what they can talk about with the young lady. But our solution is better. Outer as well as inner qualities, all in one.” She threw a quick glance at the dating table where the lamps were flashing away.
Oh goodness, what a language this lady had, Blomberg thought. But I love you! Well, of course a younger woman must have written that. And it had been meant for him. No doubt. A girl who was going all out. And she was certainly a real beauty. No, a younger woman wasn’t bad at all. But then again, the most important thing was what the woman was like as a person, of course. Blomberg looked down at his hands.
“There are happy marriages where there is a great age difference,” he felt compelled to say.
“Yes, indeed, if the man is rich, that’s true.”
Blomberg was lost for words. He took a gulp of his beer and looked musingly at the stern lady. She knew what she was doing. But if old data could be left behind in the iPad, what would happen with his own questionnaire? He cleared his throat.
“You do delete all the information as soon as somebody has left their place by the iPad? I mean, what happened with my iPad, that was a mistake, right?” he wondered.
“Of course. People can be anonymous here. That will never happen again. Integrity is everything. Incidentally, what a nice tie you’re wearing. I love cats.” Anna-Greta leaned forward and stroked one of the portrayed cats with her index finger.
“You do?”
“Oh yes, I adore them! Cats are such delightful creatures! Cute and faithful but at the same time with a strong will of their own. Grrr!” said Anna-Greta and she made a playful clawing movement in the air.
Blomberg couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t the most beautiful creation on Mother Earth, that Mary Poppins. No, she was tall and straggly and with her hair in a bun, but in some way she was still attractive. She seemed to be full of joie de vivre and optimism and reminded him a little of his mother, one of those people who were secure in themselves and could take care of others. And her hair was well cared for and her eyes glowingly alert. She didn’t stink of creams and perfume either. He fidgeted with his beer glass and rocked slightly on the chair.
“I have noticed that you have had a lot to do this evening. But perhaps you have time for a beer? By the way, I’m Ernst, Ernst Blomberg,” he said and he held out his hand.
“Anna-Greta,” she replied and shook his hand so resolutely that it felt as if she was shaking water off a dishwashing brush.
“And when it comes to computers, I might add, I’m good at them,” Blomberg went on. “If anything goes wrong, I’d be happy to help out.”
Anna-Greta took a deep breath and looked as if she had been swept off her feet.