The Stonecutter. Camilla Lackberg

name just a few vices. But the hardest thing for Arne to accept was that females now had the right to act as God’s representatives. He just couldn’t understand it. The Bible was perfectly clear on this point: ‘Woman shall be silent in the congregation.’ What was there to discuss? Women had no business being members of the clergy. They could offer good support as pastors’ wives or even as deaconesses, but otherwise they should remain silent in the congregation. It had been a sorry time when that female had taken over Fjällbacka Church. Arne had been forced to drive to Kville on Sundays to worship, and he had simply refused to show up for work. He had paid a high price, but it was worth it. Now the hideous creature was gone. Of course, the new pastor was a bit too modern for his taste, but at least he was a man. Now all that remained was to make sure that the female cantor became a temporary chapter in the history of Fjällbacka Church. A female cantor wasn’t as bad as a female pastor, of course, but still.

      Arne morosely turned the page in the regional paper, Bohusläningen. Asta was continuing to go about the house with a long face. He knew that it was for the little girl’s sake. It bothered her that their son now lived so close by. But he had explained that she had to be strong in her faith and true to their conviction. He could agree that it was a shame about the girl, but that just proved his point. Their son had not kept to the straight and narrow, and sooner or later he was bound to be punished. He turned back to look again at the teddy bear in the obituary. It was a crying shame, it certainly was …

      Mellberg didn’t feel the same sense of satisfaction that he usually did when he was the focus of media attention. He hadn’t even called a press conference, but had simply gathered some reporters from the local newspapers in his office. The memory of the letter he’d received overshadowed everything else right now, and he was having a hard time concentrating on anything else.

      ‘Do you have any solid leads to follow up on?’ A cub reporter was eagerly awaiting his reply.

      ‘Nothing that we can comment on in the present situation,’ the chief said.

      ‘Is anyone in the family a suspect?’ The question came from a reporter from the competing paper.

      ‘We’re keeping all options open right now, but we have nothing concrete that points in a specific direction.’

      ‘Was it a sex crime?’ The same reporter again.

      ‘I can’t go into that,’ Mellberg said vaguely.

      ‘How did you confirm it was murder?’ the third journalist interjected. ‘Did she have external injuries that indicated it was homicide?’

      ‘For investigative reasons I can’t comment on that,’ said Mellberg, seeing the frustration grow on the reporters’ faces. It was always like walking a slack line where the press was concerned. Give them just enough so that they felt the police were doing their job, but not so much that it hurt the investigation. Usually he regarded himself as a master of this balancing act, but today he was having a hard time with it. He didn’t know what to do about the information he had received in the letter. Could it really be true?

      One of the reporters gave him a querulous look, and Mellberg realized he’d missed a question.

      ‘Pardon me, could you please repeat the question?’ he said in confusion, and the reporter’s expression turned quizzical. They had met at several of these types of meetings, and the superintendent usually acted grandiose and boastful, rather than low-key and absent-minded as he was today.

      ‘All right. I asked whether there is any reason for parents in the area to worry about the safety of their children.’

      ‘We always recommend that parents keep a close eye on their children, but I want to emphasize that this shouldn’t lead to any sort of mass hysteria. I’m convinced that this is an isolated event and that we will soon have a suspect in custody.’

      He stood up as a sign that the meeting was over. The reporters obediently put away their notebooks and pens and thanked him. They all felt that they might have questioned the superintendent a bit harder, but at the same time it was important for the regional press to maintain a good relationship with the local police. They would leave the hard-hitting questions to their colleagues in the big cities. Here in Bohuslän they were often neighbours with subjects of their interviews. They had children in the same sports leagues and schools, so they had to forgo any desire to get the big scoop for the sake of harmony in the community.