“The days are getting longer,” Winter said. “Just when you get used to the darkness, the light starts coming back.”

“Does that depress you?”

“It gives me hope.”

“The eternal optimist.”

“Something terrible is about to happen, and I’m going to be right in the middle of it.”

“That doesn’t sound so hopeful.”

“It makes me sad,” Winter said. “I’ve always believed in goodness, but that seems to be slipping away from me.”

“That faith was your own self-therapy.”

“Do I sound confused?”

“To be honest, yes.”

“Then I must be on the right track.”

“So, playing the Good Samaritan isn’t your thing anymore?”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m just not so much into making the world fit into my own belief system.”

“Does that make any difference?”

“A policeman doesn’t have to spend all his time racking his brain about why people betray and kill each other.”

“Then who would do that dirty but necessary work?” Bolger waved in the direction of the bar.

The waitress approached and Bolger asked for a Knockando without ice in one of their thin new glasses.

“She looked like an old pro when she took your order,” Winter said.

“There’s hope for everyone. Except for those who have to clean up after you, or alongside you.”

“Clean up?”

“You know what I mean.” Bolger took his glass from the waitress.

“Mats’s death hit me pretty hard.”

“One day grief ends and turns into something else,” Bolger said after a strained silence. “You could have asked me to go to the funeral with you. He was my friend too.”

“True enough.”

“I could have been offended.”

“It wasn’t really my call, Johan. I thought you might turn up anyway.”

“It’s so goddam…”

“What were you going to say?”

“Nothing.”

“What are you mumbling about?”

Bolger hunched over his glass.

They listened to the voices of the other customers.