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released.”
    “Actually, we’ve already managed to check up on that,” said Knutas. “Do any of you recall Gustav Persson? The guy who used to roam around the pastures putting nails into horses’ hooves? He would pound the nail in partway, and when the horse set his foot down to walk, the nail would go in farther and farther. Persson didn’t just make do with one hoof, either. He would put nails in several so that in the end the horse couldn’t stand upright. He eluded the police for several weeks until he was finally caught. By then he had injured a dozen animals. There’s also Bingeby-Anna. She would kill any cat that she saw and hang them on the fence.”
    “But she’s super tiny and thin,” Jacobsson objected. “She’d never be able to carry out this sort of crime, at least not alone. I’m the size of an elephant compared to her. She can’t weigh more than ninety pounds.”
    Knutas raised his eyebrows at the exaggeration. Jacobsson herself was small-boned and stood no more than about five foot three.
    “I don’t think this has anything to do with an impulsive act by some mental patient,” Wittberg protested. “It was too well planned. To commit such a crime, during the lightest nights of the summer and with people and houses nearby, must have required meticulous planning, just as Erik said. I’m amazed that the perpetrator even dared, when there was such a big risk of being seen. The road to the pasture runs along all the farm buildings. It’s practically like driving right through their yards. Anyone who woke up could have seen or heard the car.”
    “You’re right,” said Sohlman, “but we’ve discovered that it’s possible to reach the pasture from another direction.” He clicked through the pictures until he came to the ones showing maps of the area. “The road ends and splits in two when you reach Petesviken. Instead of turning right and driving past the farms, you go left. A short distance away there’s a tractor path along the fields that circles the whole area and goes past the pasture on the other side. If the perpetrator chose that route, and I’m convinced that he did, then he would have avoided being seen from the farms. He could have driven out to the pasture and back in peace and quiet, with no risk of being discovered. From the farms in Petesviken you can’t see if a car is driving along that path. We’ve checked. Right now we’re examining the tire tracks out there, but it’s difficult because the ground is so dry.”
    “Good,” said Knutas. “We’ll continue to interview the neighbors and anyone else in the area. Let’s hope we find out something. The perp must have had a car. He had to transport an axe and a knife and possibly other tools as well, along with the horse’s head.”
    “And he was probably covered with blood,” Sohlman added.
    “Maybe he took a dip and washed it off. The sea is so close, after all,” Jacobsson suggested.
    “Wouldn’t that be kind of reckless?” Wittberg gave her a dubious look. “Would he really go for a swim, with a very strong risk of being discovered? Even though the crime was committed after eleven, on these light summer nights people go out for a dip at all hours. Especially since it’s been so hot.”
    “On the other hand, the area is relatively isolated,” Knutas interjected. “There can’t be more than three or four families living on those farms and moving about, plus maybe a few people from the houses farther up the road. It’s not an area that anyone would just happen to stroll through. Well, we’re going to have to look more closely into the family background of the farmer. Either there’s a particular reason why it was Larsson’s horse that was killed, or else it was just by chance. We still have to investigate all possibilities.”
    “Do you think the guilty person is part of the family?” asked Jacobsson. “The wife taking revenge on the husband, or vice versa?”
    “That seems rather