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way?”
    “He was grabbing her, a little too much . . . several times. I was drunk, and it made me see red, to be quite honest. I pulled Helena outdoors in back and told her what I thought of it all. She got mad as hell. I guess she’d drunk too much, too. She screamed and flew at me, and that’s when I got these scratch marks.”
    “Then what happened?”
    “I hit her. I gave her a slap, and then she ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I’ve never hit her before,” he assured them, giving Knutas a pleading look. “Then Kristian came out to talk to me. He’s the one she was dancing with, and I slugged him, too. He didn’t have a chance to strike back, because the others intervened. Then everything calmed down, and they all went home.”
    “What did you do next?”
    “Helena’s best friend, Emma, and her husband, Olle, were still there. Olle made sure that I got into bed, and he must have stayed until I fell asleep. I don’t remember anything else until I woke up this morning.”
    “Why didn’t you tell us about all this right from the start?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Who was at the party?”
    “Mostly Helena’s childhood friends. Emma and Olle Winarve, as I mentioned, and our neighbors Eva and Rikard Larsson. Helena has known them for a long time. A friend named Beata and her husband, John, the Dunmars. They’ve been living in the States, so I’ve never met them before. And the guy named Kristian, who made me so mad. He’s single, and Helena has known him a long time, too. I think they were really into each other for a while.”
    “What do you mean by ‘into each other’?”
    “Well, I think they might have slept together a few times. Helena denied it, but I have a feeling I’m right.”
    “Do you think that might be your jealousy talking?”
    “No, I don’t think so.”
    “How long have you and Helena been together?”
    “Six years.”
    “That’s quite a long time. How old are you?”
    “Thirty-eight.”
    “Why haven’t you gotten married or had kids?”
    “I’ve wanted to for a long time. Helena was more reluctant. She started her studies rather late, and she wanted to work some more before we had a family. We were thinking of getting married, though. We talked about it.”
    “Were you unsure about the relationship? Since you were so jealous?”
    “No. I don’t know. It was getting better and better. It’s been a long time since I got so mad. Yesterday it all just exploded.”
    “Do you know whether she’d had a falling-out with anyone here on the island? Anyone who disliked her?”
    “No, she was the sort of person that everyone liked.”
    “Do you know whether she’s ever received any threats?”
    “No.”
    “Were you friends with anyone else here on Gotland, other than the people who were at the party?”
    “Just with some of Helena’s relatives. Her father’s sister, who lives in Alva, and a few cousins in Hemse. Otherwise we usually kept mostly to ourselves. We came here to relax, you know . . . and to get away from all the stress back home . . . and then something like this has to happen.”
    He could hardly speak.
    Knutas could see that there was no reason to continue for the time being, and he stopped the interview.
    When Anders Knutas had concluded his interview with Per Bergdal, he went to his office for a few minutes to think and reflect. He sat down heavily in his old desk chair, which was worn shiny. It was made of oak and had been with him all these years. It had a high back, and the seat was covered in soft leather. Gently he spun around, rocking the chair a bit as he leaned against the back. The chair seemed to have become molded to his body over the years. He did his best thinking while sitting in that old chair.
    Knutas, who was the head of criminal investigations in Visby, was always careful to set aside time like this. It was especially important whenever there was a lot of drama surrounding him. Like today. His long experience with