The Preacher Read Free

summer again. Poor thing. It can’t have been fun to leave Sweden right now with this great weather we’re having.’
    Patrik gave Mellberg another surprised look and wondered at this unusual expression of sympathy. Something funny was going on, that was for sure. But he couldn’t take the time to worry about it now. They had more important things to think about.
    ‘I know you’re on holiday for the rest of this week, but would you mind coming in and helping out on the case?’ Mellberg asked. ‘Ernst isn’t imaginative enough and Martin is too inexperienced to lead an investigation, so we could really use your help.’
    The request was so flattering to Patrik’s vanity that he found himself saying yes on the spot. Of course he would catch hell for it at home, but he consoled himself with the fact that it would take no longer than fifteen minutes to get home if Erica needed him in a hurry. Besides, they’d been getting on each other’s nerves in the heat, so it might be a good idea for him to be out of the house.
    ‘First I’d like to find out whether any woman has been reported missing,’ said Patrik. ‘We should check a fairly wide area, say from Strömstad down to Göteborg. I’ll ask Martin or Ernst to do it. I thought I heard them come in.’
    ‘That’s good, a great idea. That’s the right spirit, keep it up!’ Mellberg got up from the table and cheerfully slapped Patrik on the shoulder. Patrik realized that he would be the one doing the work, as usual, while Mellberg once again took all the credit. But he no longer got upset about that; it wasn’t worth it.
    With a sigh he put both of their coffee cups in the dishwasher. He wasn’t going to need to put on any sunblock today.

    ‘All right, everybody up! Do you think this is some sort of bloody boarding-house where you can lie about all day long?’
    The voice cut through thick layers of fog and echoed painfully against his temples. Stefan cautiously opened one eye but closed it the instant he saw the blinding glare of the summer sun.
    ‘What the hell …’ Robert, his older brother by one year, turned over in bed and put the pillow over his head. It was abruptly yanked out of his grasp and he sat up, muttering.
    ‘Can’t I ever sleep in a little at this place?’
    ‘You two slackers sleep in every single day. It’s almost noon. If you didn’t stay up late gadding about every night and doing God knows what, maybe you wouldn’t have to sleep half the day. I actually need a little help around this place. You live here for free and you eat for free too, and both of you are grown men. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to give your poor mother a helping hand.’
    Solveig Hult stood with her arms crossed. She was morbidly obese, with the pallor of someone who never goes outside. Her hair was filthy, framing her face with straggly, dark locks.
    ‘You’re almost thirty years old and still living off your mother. Yeah, you’re real he-men, all right. And how can you afford to run around partying every single night, if I may ask? You don’t work and I never see you contributing anything to the household expenses. All I can say is that if your father were still alive, he’d put a stop to this behaviour. Have you heard anything from the Job Centre yet? You were supposed to go down there week before last!’
    Now it was Stefan’s turn to put the pillow over his face. He tried to block out the endless nagging; she was like a broken record. But his pillow was yanked away too. He sat up, hung over, his head pounding like a marching band.
    ‘I put away the breakfast things long ago. You’ll have to find something in the fridge yourselves.’
    Solveig’s huge posterior waddled out of the little room that the brothers still shared, and she slammed the door behind her. They didn’t dare try to go back to sleep, but took out a packet of cigarettes and each lit a fag. They could skip breakfast, but the fag lifted their spirits and gave them