The Falling Detective by Christoffer Carlsson Page A

it was about — I just assumed it was something to do with work.’
    â€˜But you didn’t ask?’
    â€˜No. No, I didn’t ask. Should I have?’ he adds, as though hoping I could relieve him of a burden.
    That’s something that police seldom do.
    â€˜No,’ I say, ‘I don’t think so. Would you consider that there was any threat to Thomas’s safety?’
    â€˜There was,’ Kele says. ‘But not something that I would consider serious. There were threats made against him, especially since the Utøya massacre. Thomas’s thesis was pretty new when it happened, and extremist movements got a fair amount of coverage after that. Thomas was interviewed, and participated in debates and so on. That made him a public figure, and, I suppose, dangerous. The far right recognised him from his time with AFA , if you were aware of that.’
    â€˜I am aware of that. But nothing I’ve heard would suggest it could go as far as murder or manslaughter.’
    â€˜No, that’s true. But you asked about threats to his safety, which certainly existed.’
    â€˜Do you think that these groups are potent enough to do something like this?’
    â€˜You mean on the far right?’
    â€˜Yes, exactly.’
    Kele has shifted in his chair. His legs are still crossed, but his arms are now wrapped around his torso, as though he were freezing, or trying to protect himself. His voice is steady, but his eyes are shifty and glazed.
    â€˜No, I can’t imagine that they are. But I’m not the right person to ask.’
    â€˜I was wondering,’ I say as I pull out the printout of Heber’s LOG document. ‘I found this on his computer.’ I hold it out, towards Kele, who takes it from me. ‘I haven’t read all of it, but there’s a note at the end that I’d like you to have a look at. I’m not sure what it means.’
    Kele reads the first page before looking up.
    â€˜I don’t think you should be reading this. Have you got permission to go through his computer?’
    â€˜When someone dies the way Heber died, we do get the warrants we need, sooner or later. And I think this might be important.’
    â€˜These are his fieldwork notes. It’s like a researcher’s diary. You have no right to be going through this, breaking confidentiality and everything. I need to at least see a formal request.’
    â€˜I can get back to you with one of those. But until then, there’s this one thing I’ve been wondering about, on the last page.’
    Kele flips reluctantly through the document and reads the last entry.
    â€˜1599 must be an interview subject,’ he says, stroking the paper tenderly, carefully.
    â€˜I wonder if you know anything about this bit,’ I say, showing him. ‘What it is that he’s heard? It doesn’t feel like an ordinary entry,’ I add. ‘If you read the others, this one sticks out. It feels more personal.’
    â€˜I have no idea what it means.’ He puts the document to one side and looks devastated. ‘I don’t want to read this — it’s far too personal. Have you got any more copies?’
    â€˜No,’ I lie.
    Happy lucia
    The text arrives, and I read it as the lift carries me up to the floor to where the violent crime unit is based. Grim.
    I didn’t know they’d given you a phone, I reply.
    A new text arrives straightaway, as though Grim were sitting, phone in hand, waiting for it to beep. Which is probably exactly what he’s doing. The activities put on for the sectioned patients at St Göran’s are pretty limited.
    they haven’t, he writes. I stole it
    For some reason, this makes me titter, standing there alone in the lift. Then I call the psychiatric ward at Sankt Göran’s and tell them that someone ought to check what the occupant of room 22 has managed to acquire.
    â€˜And,’ I add, ‘make sure he