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ties, and there were flounced flowery curtains at the windows. It made Martinsson think of a small, tired traveling circus troupe. Here and there lengths of wood had been nailed up between pine trees. Hanging from them were swings with graying ropes, or ratty fishing nets weighed down by fragments of ice that had not yet melted in the spring sunshine. Along the walls of the cottages were stacks of rotting wood, unlikely to be much good for burning. Lying all over the place were things that might come in handy one of these days: part of an old porch, a pretty but broken wooden gate leaning against a tree, stacks of timber only just adequately covered by tarpaulins, piles of old bricks and paving stones, grindstones, a street lamp, an old tractor, rolls of fiberglass insulation, an iron bed.
    And lots of rowboats in among the trees. Upside down and covered in snow. Made of wood and plastic, in varying states of repair.
    By the side of a permanent landing pier was a floating jetty that had been dragged up onto the riverbank. The police and forensic teams were gathered there.
    “What a place!” Martinsson said with delight, switching off the engine.
    Tintin and Roy immediately started howling and barking with excitement.
    “Some of us can’t wait to start work,” Eriksson said, laughing.
    They got out of the car quickly.
    Inspector Mella came over to them.
    “What a commotion!” she said with a chuckle.
    “They just go mad, they’re so desperate to get to work,” Eriksson said. “I don’t want to shush them up as I want this to be a positive experience. But I’m not at all sure that it’s goodfor Tintin. She shouldn’t get this excited in her condition. She needs to get to work, then she’ll calm down. Where do you want us to search?”
    Mella looked over toward the river.
    “The forensic team has just arrived. They’re working down by the jetty, but I thought you and Tintin could check along the riverbank. The girl was out diving with her boyfriend, so he must be here somewhere. Maybe his body has floated ashore nearby, who knows? It would be helpful if you could search a little way upstream and downstream from here, and then we can go up to the rapids. Some people dive in the rapids to retrieve lost fishing tackle—a decent Rapala can set you back a hundred and fifty kronor after all. So they go looking for a few of those . . . As I said, I’ve no idea. But young people are always short on money. Such a tragic accident. A damned shame if ever there was one. They had the whole of their lives to look forward to. It would be nice for the relatives if we could find both of them.”
    Eriksson nodded.
    “Tintin can make a start,” he said. “But she’s not going to walk three kilometers. I’ll take Roy out later.”
    “Okay. Maybe we can let her search the promontory here, and then up by the rapids. It’s open water there, and we can cross over to the far side later. I’ve got some officers out looking for the car, but they’re keeping away from the riverbank. A hundred meters, I told them.”
    Eriksson nodded his approval. Letting Tintin out of the car, he strapped her into her work coat.
    She stopped barking and scuttled excitedly around his legs; he had to disentangle himself from the lead.
    When he had disappeared, being dragged down toward the promontory by an excited, whimpering German Shepherd, Mella turned to Martinsson.
    “What brought you out here?”
    “I’m just the chauffeur,” Martinsson said. “Krister’s car wouldn’t start.”
    They eyed each other for a long moment. Then both said at the same time, “How are things?”
    Mella answered first. “Fine, just fine.” Martinsson looked her over. Inspector Mella was short, barely five feet tall. But it had never registered with Martinsson that Mella was small. Until now. The inspector was almost swallowed up by her black leather jacket. Her long, light blond hair hung down her back in a thick braid as usual. It struck Martinsson