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I said?’
    She forced herself to nod and thought of the cellphone under the covers in her bed. The man pushed a button on a tape recorder and sat down on the table in front of her. His jeans were worn at the knees.
    ‘This is a record of the interview with Snapphane, Anne, born . . .’
    He stopped and fixed Anne with his gaze. She swallowed and mumbled her date of birth.
    ‘. . . Conducted by Q at Yxtaholm castle, in the conference room of the New Wing, on Friday, 22 June, at 10:25 a.m. Anne Snapphane is being interviewed with regard to the probable homicide of Michelle Carlsson.’
    Silently, the police lieutenant studied Anne.
    ‘Why are you here?’
    Anne drank some more water.
    ‘I’m being interviewed by the police,’ she said softly.
    Lieutenant Q sighed.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Anne Snapphane said and cleared her throat. ‘I’m a researcher at Zero Television – a production company that makes TV programmes that are aired by various networks. I’ve also been a studio hostess this week, while we’ve been taping these shows.’ She grew silent and looked around the room. There were police officers in front of her and behind her, and the broadcast bus was outside the building.
    ‘Shows?’ the police officer asked. ‘In the plural. Does that mean there are several of them?’
    She nodded.
    ‘Eight shows in a row,’ Anne replied, her voice a bit steadier now. ‘Two whole shows a day for four days running, and it’s been raining the whole fucking time!’
    Suddenly and inappropriately, she laughed shrilly. The policeman didn’t react.
    ‘And how did it go?’
    ‘How did it go?’
    Anne bowed her head.
    ‘More or less as expected, apart from the weather. We hadn’t counted on having to put up canopies to be able to shoot the various slots and segments. And that meant that we had to keep rearranging the shooting schedule – some of the artists had to perform up in the music room on the second floor of the manor house. But apart from that, everything went according to plan.’
    She tried to smile.
    ‘Any conflicts?’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    She finished the water in her glass.
    The policeman spread his hands in a tired gesture.
    ‘Fights,’ he explained. ‘Arguments. Threats. Unruly behaviour.’
    Anne Snapphane closed her eyes again and took a deep breath.
    ‘Some, I guess.’
    ‘Could you be more specific?’
    She took another sip of water, noticed that her glass was empty and waved it to get a refill.
    ‘Millions of things can go wrong in a big production like this,’ she said, ‘and there’s just no room for it. If everyone’s stressed, things can get out of hand.’
    ‘Could you spell that out for me?’ Q asked.
    Her heart started racing again and she began to shake.
    ‘Michelle,’ she began, ‘could be a real pain. For the past few days she’s locked horns with every single member of the team.’
    ‘Including you?’
    Anne Snapphane nodded a few times and swallowed. The policeman sighed.
    ‘Could you please give us a verbal answer?’
    ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice booming much too loudly. ‘Yes, including me.’
    ‘When was that?’
    ‘Last night.’
    The policeman studied her closely and didn’t lower his gaze.
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘It was nothing, really. We got into this argument over money, about what things are worth. It all started with a discussion about the stock market, and I’m principally opposed to an economy based on speculation, while Michelle insisted that it was an essential cornerstone of democracy, and then we went on to discuss salaries. According to Michelle, corporate managers and other people in public positions were worth their high salaries and pension deals, and she mentioned Percy Barnevik and all the other high-rollers, even though she was really talking about herself, as usual.’
    She stopped short and her cheeks started to burn. The policeman regarded her, his face a mask.
    ‘Were you angry?’
    I’ll lie , Anne Snapphane thought. I