“Smoked whitefish and scrambled egg?” Ringmar suggested, examining what was in the fridge.

“If we’ve got time,” said Winter. “It takes ages to make a decent scrambled egg. Got any chives, by the way?”

Ringmar smiled and nodded, carried the ingredients over to the counter, and got to work. Winter sipped the beer. It was good, chilled without being cold. He took off his tie and hung his jacket over the chair. His neck felt stiff after a long day. A student of life. Continuous judgment. He could see the student’s face in his mind’s eye, then the back of his head. A law student, just like he’d been once. If I’d stuck with it I could have been chief of police now, he thought, taking another sip of beer. That might have been better. Protected from the streets. No bending over bodies with shattered limbs, no new holes, no blood, no wounds in the shape of a cross.

“The other two don’t have an enemy in the world,” said Ringmar from the stove, where he was stirring the egg mix with a wooden fork.

“Who?”

“The other two victims who survived with the cross-shaped wounds on their heads. Not an enemy in the world, they’re saying.”

“That goes with being young,” said Winter. “No real enemies.”

“You’re young yourself,” said Ringmar, lifting up the cast-iron pan. “Do you have any enemies?”

“Not a single one,” said Winter. “You make enemies later on in life.”

Ringmar put the finishing touches to the open sandwiches.

“We should really have a drop of schnapps with this,” he said.

“I can always take a taxi home.”

“It’s settled, then,” said Ringmar, going to get the hard stuff.

“The same man was responsible for all the attacks,” said Ringmar. “What’s he after?”

“Satisfaction from causing injury,” said Winter, draining the last of his second schnapps and shaking his head when Ringmar lifted the bottle questioningly.