along with a magnificent mirror. Irene stepped in and hung her leather jacket on an ornate brass hat rack. At first she didn’t notice it, but then she had an unpleasant déjà vu experience. A distinct smell of Ajax and cigars hung in the air. Involuntarily she shuddered. The last time she had been in this building surrounded by this mixture of smells it was due to an evil, sudden death.
Aloud she said, “There’s a nice smell of Ajax. Have you already done the Christmas cleaning?”
He laughed and peered at her. “You could say that. As a matter of fact I’ve hired a cleaning firm. Three people were here all day yesterday. Fantastically talented people. They cleaned the whole apartment and put up new curtains everywhere. I want the place to look good when my fiancée comes here for the first time,” said Valle.
He smiled happily and glided before her into the large living room. It was somewhat smaller than the room upstairs at the von Knechts, but still about a hundred square meters. With a proud gesture he motioned for her to take a seat in a pompous-looking leather easy chair. The smell of new leather stung her nose. The leather furniture was heavy, shiny, and obviously brand new. Two sofas and four easy chairs. The glass table was the biggest one Irene had ever seen; it reminded her of an octagonal pool. In the large open fireplace of iridescent green marble and black slate a wood fire crackled. High cupboards with shiny glass doors towered on either side of the fireplace. Silver pieces glimmered behind the glass. Large paintings with heavy gold frames were reminiscent of the art in the von Knechts’ apartment. Reuter also owned a paint-laden monster, like the one von Knecht had on the wall of his library—although von Knecht’s was green and this one was blue.
At the other end of the room a large dining table with twelve chairs was enthroned. Above it hung a heavy crystal chandelier. Glittering light from thousands of prisms radiated over the room.
Valle Reuter stepped over to the wall and began twisting a small control dial. Softly the illumination was toned down; then with a quick twist in the other direction he bathed the room in light.
“They came to install this today. A dimmer, it’s called.”
With a thoroughly contented expression, he turned the light back down to a comfortable level.
“Your fiancée will like this apartment, I’m convinced of that.” Irene said this with genuine honesty, because it was actually very pleasant.
“I think so too. Everything is new! It all came today.”
“Everything?”
“Well, not the art and the carpets. Those are things that Henrik bought for me. Investments. The crystal chandelier is old too, very old, but superbly renovated. The furniture is new. You’re the first one to sit in that chair.”
“And all this you bought because your fiancée will be coming here for the first time?”
He gave her a long look and nodded solemnly a few times before he said, “She accepted my proposal last Tuesday. I was overjoyed! My life has been as black as night. Dreary years . . . alone . . . and then this thing with Richard. When Gunnel said yes, I thought a light was being lit for me too. I almost don’t dare believe it! I decided to start a new life. Got rid of all the ugly old furniture that Leila picked out once upon a time! I’m not very good at cleaning . . . the place was a little dirty. But the cleaning company took care of that. Although I had to pay double because they had to come at such short notice. But it was worth it! The day before yesterday I went into that furniture gallery on Östra Hamngatan. I pointed out exactly what I wanted. Some of it wasn’t in stock, so I took the display items. The dining room table and one of the sofas. ‘I need it delivered Friday evening at the latest,’ I said. It cost quite a bit, the whole thing. But it’s worth every öre! I donated the old furniture to the City Mission. They came and got it yesterday. May I offer you a glass of something? No, I suppose not.”
He looked disappointed, not unlike a pug dog that has his heart set on a treat but doesn’t get it.
“We’re not allowed to drink on duty,” said Irene.
“But it’s seven o’clock on a Friday night!”
“And I’m on duty.”
“Oh.”
“Naturally, that’s why I’m