STEFAN SANDBERG LOOKED older than on the previous occasion when they had met, probably thanks to the black suit and white shirt and tie he was wearing.
“The funeral is over. I’ve been to the bank to sort out the final details with regard to the sale of the house in Thailand and his apartment here. So I was a little surprised to hear from you again,” he said. He looked away quickly, and Irene heard him murmur, “Or perhaps not.”
She decided to pretend she hadn’t heard, and said, “I’m glad you were able to come in. I have some very difficult news for you.”
Stefan sat motionless on the chair opposite her during the entire account. Irene told him about his stepfather’s role in the murder of the little Russian known as Tanya. She wanted him to know the whole truth before it hit the headlines.
He remained silent long after she had finished. Irene began to wonder whether the shock had been greater than she had expected. After all, Stefan himself had said that he and Torleif hadn’t been particularly close.
“This hasn’t come as a complete surprise to me,” he said eventually, as if he had sensed what Irene was thinking. “I took Torleif’s laptop back to Umeå with me, along with the book on researching your family tree that was lying next to it. I thought it would be interesting to find out more about him … after all, I am his only heir.”
He compressed his lips into a thin line and stared down at his hands, which rested on top of each other on the desk.
“There were indeed files on genealogy. And on the house in Thailand. But above all there was a huge amount of pornography. All kinds of pornography! The most hardcore, the most disgusting variations you can imagine.”
He ran a hand over his face, as if to brush away the images flickering before his mind’s eye.
“I’d appreciate it if you could send the laptop down to us. It could contain evidence. And we can help you to clean it if you want it back.”
“No thanks. I never want to see it again.” He shook his head. Then he said thoughtfully, “I always thought he was strange. I never really liked him. Mom always said he was a man with a small face.”
“Interesting expression. What did she mean?”
“That Torleif was so ordinary. He wasn’t the kind of person you really notice. There was nothing to make him stand out in a crowd. He was kind of beige, if I can put it that way. But if you looked more closely at him, he had his little quirks. Vegetarian. Clean living. Pedantic. Mean. And according to Mom, he didn’t really have a sense of humor. A mediocre guy with a slightly odd personality. But I never thought he was capable of something like this.”
“No. Nor did anyone else.”