She hesitated, and stopped. The house seemed completely deserted. Maybe it was best to go home after all, and hope the widow wouldn’t be upset.

I can always knock, she thought. That doesn’t cost anything.

Before she came to the house, she passed a large, red-painted barn. She couldn’t resist the temptation to peek in through the high, half-open doors.

She was surprised by what she saw. There were two cars in there. She was not well-versed in cars, but she couldn’t help noticing that one was an extremely expensive Mercedes, and the other an equally valuable BMW.

There must be somebody in, then, she thought, and continued toward the whitewashed house. Somebody who’s not short of cash.

She knocked at the door, but nothing happened. She knocked again, harder this time; still no answer. She tried to peek in through a window next to the door, but the drapes were drawn. She knocked a third time, before going to see if there was a back door.

Behind the house was an overgrown orchard. The apple trees had certainly not been pruned for twenty or thirty years. Some half-rotten garden furniture was standing under a pear tree. A magpie flapped its wings loudly and flew away. She couldn’t find a door, and returned to the front of the house.

I’ll knock just one more time, she thought. If nobody answers, I’ll go back to Ystad. There’ll be time to stop by the sea for a while before I need to start making dinner.

She hammered on the door.

Still no answer.

She could feel rather than hear that someone had come up behind her from the courtyard. She turned abruptly.

The man was about a meter away from her. He was motionless, looking straight at her. She saw he had a scar on his forehead.