didn’t you drive around to different wineries? To do wine tastings and so on . . . ?”
“Of course, but those wines were so expensive,” chirped Mamma Gerd.
Irene pretended not to notice her husband’s low moan.
There were seven of them for dinner since Katarina had invited Micke to join them. He, too, was still feeling the effects of the accident so they had chosen to join the quiet family dinner at home instead of going to a big party with friends. Perhaps they just wanted to spend some time alone. Irene’s watchful eye noted their warm looks and stolen touches. It really seemed to be serious. They had been together for almost two months, a new record for Katarina.
Jenny was going out later that night. Her band was playing at a newly opened club with her as the lead singer! Irene’s daughter was in seventh heaven and seemed to be somewhere else. Out of pure distraction she almost put a piece of steak on her plate. At the last second she realized what she was about to do—meat!—and quickly put it back on the serving dish.
Krister had put together a wonderful menu for Pentecost. It was perhaps a bit too heavy for Whitsuntide, but Irene and Katarina had been allowed to request their favorite dishes. As an appetizer, they had crab Thermidor, crabmeat baked in a wonderfully spicy wine sauce, served in the shells.
Jenny ate pale celery sticks that she dipped in spicy tomato salsa.
Without revealing what he really thought, Krister served the wine his mother-in-law had brought, along with the first course.
The steak was sliced and covered in dark gravy. Cooked cauliflower, asparagus, lightly steamed sugar peas, peeled tomatoes, and Hasselback potatoes were the main course.
Krister had chosen Clos Malvern to go with the main course and, according to him, the wine had a heavy bouquet, a strong burned and smoky taste, and hints of both chocolate and sun-drenched berries. The hot sun and winds of South Africa had left their mark on this strong dark red wine.
“The wines are so full bodied and flavorful because they fertilize the wineries with elephant dung,” Krister announced with the utmost seriousness.
His mother-in-law and Sture opened their eyes wide and said to each other, “Really! Just imagine!”
But Irene knew her husband well and shook her finger at him. He arched his eyebrows innocently and toasted his wife.
IRENE HAD taken the bus into the city. They were on a holiday schedule since it was Whitmonday. She hadn’t thought about that when she and Jonny had made their appointment, and now she was almost twenty minutes late.
Jonny was standing outside the police station, huddled against the bitter wind. Based on the sour expression on his face, he had been standing and waiting for quite some time.
“Hi. Sorry, but the buses . . .”
“You knew that it was a holiday. Women and time!”
Sour was Mr. Blom’s first name today, thought Irene. Obviously he was annoyed about having to come home from Stockholm a day earlier than planned and she was the one who was going to suffer because of it. Then again, though she had arrived late, at least she had apologized. If only she had been allowed to go to Copenhagen on her own.
“We should try and get there by eight at the latest, in time for a late dinner and a big bier,” she said briskly.
“Bier?”
“Beer. A big Danish beer.”
“Oh.”
That was their entire conversation as they drove the length of Halland’s coast. Since Irene was acquainted with Jonny’s driving, she had insisted on getting behind the wheel of the bureau car. For the most part, Jonny sat dozing with his head hanging. He didn’t wake up until they had driven onto HH-Ferries in Helsingborg. But he was first in line at the cafeteria. A large draft beer, and bread with a chunk of coarsely ground liver pâté with pickles, made him thaw out considerably. Irene went for the coffee and a plate of shrimp. She wasn’t able to finish the slice of bread under it.
They were sitting in the car again after twenty minutes, and then it was time for Irene to drive across the clattering ramp with the same chilly feeling in her stomach as before.
Since she was familiar with the route, they made their way pretty quickly to the highway heading toward Copenhagen.
“Could you go through everything you know about Isabell Lind one more time? It would be good if you could refresh my recollection,” said Jonny.