By Håkan Nesser, Laurie Thompson (translator)
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Additional info for Borkmann's Point
And imposed upon them, penetrating them, the image of the ten-year-old with blond plaits, roaring with laughter, running toward him along the beach. Arms outstretched, eyes gleaming. Bitte . . He woke up. In a cold sweat as usual, and it was several seconds before he remembered, before he got the upper hand . . the weapon . . the intense feeling of bliss as he swung it through the air and the dull thud as it penetrated their necks. The lifeless bodies and the blood bubbling out . . That blood.
The odd case of domestic violence now and then, four or ﬁve boats stolen in the summer. An occasional brawl and a bit of drug dealing. ” “No,” said Van Veeteren. “Not yet, in any case. Anyway, what theories have you got about this Eggers character? You don’t have to give me all the details today. ” Beate Moerk took it upon herself to respond. “None,” she said. “We don’t know a damn thing. I suppose we had started to think—before the Simmel business, that is— that it must be some kind of inside job.
Schalke nodded and withdrew. ” When he’d ﬁnished his meal and paid his bill, he still had no idea what he’d been eating. “He sat on the same chair as you’re on now,” said Schalke. “Very much alive. One thing is certain. He had no idea he was going to have his head chopped off. ” asked Van Veeteren, sucking the froth off his beer. “How was that? Well . . a bit distant and supercilious, to tell you the truth. Not easy to talk to. He was always like that. His mind was sort of . . ” That doesn’t surprise me, thought Van Veeteren.