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The investigative team had decided that all the students in the course, along with their teachers, should be interviewed before the night was over, so they had divided up the individuals for questioning. Jacobs-son and Knutas took one of the students with whom Martina had had the most contact: Mark Feathers, an American. They also had one of the teachers in the group assigned to them: Aron Bjarke.

The long workday was drawing to a close, and Knutas was genuinely tired. He was in charge of questioning Bjarke; Jacobsson was present as a witness. When they sat down in the interview room, Knutas couldn't hold back a yawn. He immediately apologized.

Bjarke had taught landscape reconstruction and phosphate analysis during the introductory two weeks of theory. He was a tall, middle-aged man with dark blond hair and a nondescript face. His hairline was receding a bit; otherwise he looked younger than his forty-three years. His chin was adorned with a well-trimmed beard, and his eyes were green with thick, curling lashes.

"What do you know about Martina Flochten?" Knutas began.

"Not much, I have to admit. She was a sweet, lively girl who showed a great deal of interest in the Viking Age in particular. I had the impression that she was more knowledgeable than most of the others. In general, she seemed extremely engaged in the subject."

If the teacher hadn't spoken with such a marked Gotland accent, Knutas would have sworn that he was from the mainland. There was something about his clothes and his style of wearing them, something slightly elegant and big city-like about his neatly pressed slacks and jacket. His voice and manner of speaking, strangely enough, didn't match his appearance. At the same time, there was something disarming about him. He gave Knutas a friendly look as he waited for the next question.

"Did you socialize with her outside of class?"

"No, at least not alone. But the whole group got together several times. We had dinner at the home of one of the other teachers, we went out for a beer, and we played a game of kubb in Almedalen. But we were all together, as a group."

"Were you at Warfsholm on Saturday night?"

"No, I've hardly seen the students since they moved out to Frojel and started excavating."

"Where were you on Saturday night?"

The soft-spoken teacher looked surprised at the question. "Am I a suspect?"

"Not at all. This is purely a routine question that we're asking everyone," Knutas explained. "What were you doing on Saturday night?"

"Nothing special. I was home watching TV."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"Do you live alone?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any children?"

"No, not yet, anyway."

"Were you home all night?"

"Yes. I think I stayed up quite late. Then I went to bed around midnight. That's what I usually do."

"Did you notice whether Martina was ever together with anyone in the group or with one of the teachers?"

Aron Bjarke suddenly looked embarrassed. "Well, things like that are so hard to judge. Because you never know. It's possible that you imagine one thing and then maybe it's not true at all. I'd prefer not to say anything about it," he explained, putting on a pompous expression.

"What do you mean?" asked Jacobsson from the corner.

"I think that Martina liked to flirt and show off for the men in the group. It was quite obvious. They all fell for it."

"Was there anyone who seemed especially interested in her?"

"Hm…I don't know," he said hesitantly. "Maybe there was one person that I thought showed her a little too much attention, but I could be mistaken, of course."

"Who was it?"

Bjarke squirmed. "This is embarrassing because it's one of the teachers. I'm thinking actually of the excavation leader, Staffan Mellgren."

"Is that right?"

"At the same time, you need to know that he often has romantic escapades with cute young female students. It sounds awful to say this, but he has a hard time keeping his hands off them. This isn't the first time that he's shown an interest, so to speak, in a female student."

The man sitting across from Knutas leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"Staffan Mellgren is a lecher, a sex addict. Everyone knows that. He hasn't been faithful to his wife for even a week since the day they got married. And since he prefers"-here Bjarke held up both hands in the air and made the sign for quote marks-" lamb flesh, he usually goes for young female students who look up to the teacher and are easy conquests for him."

Bjarke certainly didn't mince words. The teacher's candor surprised both detectives. Knutas perked up.

"Do you mean to say in all seriousness that Mellgren has previously had relationships with students?"

"Of course. It happens all the time. It would be strange if Staffan gave a course and didn't get mixed up with at least one of the female participants."

"How long as this been going on?"

"For ten years at least."

"Does Mellgren's wife know about his affairs?"

"It would be hard for me to imagine that she'd accept something like that."

"You seem to know Mellgren well."

"We've worked together for over fifteen years."

"How has he managed to keep his love affairs a secret from his wife all these years?"

"He and Susanna lead separate lives. She stays home with the kids and takes care of the house and the farm. His job takes up a lot of his time. I don't think they actually see much of each other."

"What was it about Mellgren's behavior toward Martina that attracted your attention?"

"I can't say with certainty that there was actually anything going on between them. The whole group didn't get together very often. I taught my classes, and he wasn't part of that. But when the course started, when everyone was in Visby, we did have a number of group activities. Since I've seen Staffan in action, so to speak, numerous times before, I can tell at once when he goes into pursuit mode."

"In what way?"

"Well, it's really the same old story. He laughs and jokes a lot with the person he's interested in at the moment. He gives her long looks without saying anything. His old tricks are so obvious that it's ridiculous."

"You seem quite certain about this."

"Let me put it this way: A young woman has been murdered, which is an enormously serious matter, of course. Obviously I don't want to single anybody out or make any claims that might make the person suspect in your eyes. To do that, I realize that I'd have to be absolutely positive about my claims. This much I can tell you, though: He at least tried to get together with Martina Flochten. Whether his advances were returned, I can't say. I don't know anything about that. After the two weeks devoted to theory, the group moved out to Frojel, and I haven't seen Martina since then."

Jacobsson and Knutas took time out for a cup of coffee before the next interview. Both of them felt the need for a break after their meeting with Aron Bjarke.

In the corridor other students and teachers from the college were going in and out of the various interview rooms. There were many that had to be dealt with.

"Considering what that teacher told us, it's going to be damn interesting to hear what the other interviews have produced," said Jacobs-son as they waited for their plastic cups to fill with coffee from the machine. "Do you think he's credible?"

"Hard to know. He was undeniably candid. That always makes me suspicious."

"Why's that? I thought you valued openness," said Jacobsson with a smile.

The interview with the American student Mark Feathers was conducted by Jacobsson. Once again Knutas's command of English wasn't sufficient.

At first glance Feathers looked like the archetypical American guy: close-cropped hair, baggy knee-length shorts, and a big, wrinkled T-shirt that was not tucked in. On his feet he wore tennis socks with a blue border and the obligatory sneakers. He was tall and muscular with an angry expression. He looked more like a baseball player than someone who patiently devoted himself to archaeological excavations.