IRENE LILJA DROVE SLOWLY so that she didn’t wake the sleeping neighbourhood, and for once she was first on the scene. She pulled over and stopped: this was probably the first time she’d ever had to wait for Molander. He was always on time and was always a step ahead of the others, ready with a solution.
But today she was the one who was a step ahead; she had come up with an idea that was so great it couldn’t be put off until the next day. Was that why he was taking so long and making her wait? She toyed with the thought of just going in and gathering the prints, but decided it was too big a risk: Molander might be offended and angry for real. Besides, he had the keys to Glenn’s house.
She cut the engine and the wipers stopped in the middle of the windshield, which was one of several features of her car that she found annoying. She had developed the habit of switching off the wipers before she turned off the car, but she had forgotten this time. She must be too tired. She didn’t even have the energy to be annoyed.
Instead, she reclined her seat back a few notches and looked out the window at the rain. It had only started to come down a few minutes ago, and the precipitation was as gentle and badly needed as it was unexpected. The summer had been so hot and cloudless that she had almost forgotten there was such a thing as rain.
The raindrops landed on the windshield and grew into small irregular pools. Pretty soon it was no longer possible to see out, and the glow of the lone streetlight became distorted, forming a hypnotic blend of reflections and colours. She was sinking deeper and deeper into sleep, trying to figure out how many hours of rest she’d managed in the past week.
Twelve minutes later, her eyes opened. She looked around, but didn’t see anything other than the rain hammering at the metal of her car so violently that she was worried it would leave marks on the paint. But that wasn’t what had woken her: a few seconds ago she’d thought she heard a loud banging sound. Then she heard it again, right next to her. Someone was standing outside, but the water was distorting her view so much that she couldn’t tell who it was.
She rolled down the window and saw Molander’s wet face looking back at her.
“Do you think I’m having fun standing out here waiting for you?”
“Oh, so now you’re the one who has to wait?” Lilja asked, but Molander was already on his way up to the house. She stepped out into the pouring rain, opened her umbrella, and hurried to catch up with him. “Why didn’t you bring an umbrella?”
Molander grunted as he tried key after key in the lock. “Who the hell marked these damn keys?”
“Hold on, let me help.” Lilja took over and Molander didn’t hesitate to take the umbrella, holding it in a position that allowed her to experience the wetness of the rain.
“Here. It’s ‘GG,’ as in Glenn Granqvist,” she said, unlocking the door.
Molander handed back her umbrella without a word and vanished into the house. As she let the water run off her onto the doormat, Lilja wondered whether he was being efficient or was just in a bad mood, although it didn’t matter either way.
When she arrived at the cleaning closet, Molander was already busy dusting the light switch. Despite making every effort to hide it, she could see his barely noticeable smile.
“You sure were lucky. There are several prints here, both on the faucet and by the switch.”
“Lucky? You mean ‘right’?” Lilja said, receiving a stony silence in response. “And you’re sure that they’re his and not Glenn’s?”
He gave her a weary look and took out the print lifters.