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The Saint
In this internationally bestselling Nordic noir, the investigation into the murder of a beloved soccer coach in a quiet Stockholm neighborhood reveals a dark truth.

Local girls’ soccer coach Sven-Gunnar Erlandsson is practically a saint in the community, known for his good works and volunteering. So when his body is found in Stockholm’s beautiful Herräng forest, shot at close range in the back of the neck while walking home from a late-night poker game, the police struggle to find a motive. Nothing has been taken from his pockets except his cell phone, and the only other clues left behind are a cryptic handwritten note and a handful of playing cards.

The Hammarby murder squad takes the case, splitting up the leads between their eclectic mix of officers. Led by Detective Chief Inspector Conny Sjöberb, the team also includes a veteran inspector who balances his career with caring for his disabled daughter, a widow who has returned to police work after several decades spent as a homemaker and pursuing a law degree, a new transplant who recently achieved minor celebrity status as an Idol contestant, and a young police assistant struggling with trauma she can’t share with her colleagues.

Each member of the team pursues a different lead and, as they interview Erlandsson’s friends and family, they discover a disturbing web of secrets, including a possible link to the cases of two missing girls. Could Erlandsson have been less of a saint than everyone thinks?

A dark and layered story told through multiple perspectives, The Saint is the fourth in the highly acclaimed Hammarby police series from Swedish author Carin Gerhardsen.
1145006318
The Saint
In this internationally bestselling Nordic noir, the investigation into the murder of a beloved soccer coach in a quiet Stockholm neighborhood reveals a dark truth.

Local girls’ soccer coach Sven-Gunnar Erlandsson is practically a saint in the community, known for his good works and volunteering. So when his body is found in Stockholm’s beautiful Herräng forest, shot at close range in the back of the neck while walking home from a late-night poker game, the police struggle to find a motive. Nothing has been taken from his pockets except his cell phone, and the only other clues left behind are a cryptic handwritten note and a handful of playing cards.

The Hammarby murder squad takes the case, splitting up the leads between their eclectic mix of officers. Led by Detective Chief Inspector Conny Sjöberb, the team also includes a veteran inspector who balances his career with caring for his disabled daughter, a widow who has returned to police work after several decades spent as a homemaker and pursuing a law degree, a new transplant who recently achieved minor celebrity status as an Idol contestant, and a young police assistant struggling with trauma she can’t share with her colleagues.

Each member of the team pursues a different lead and, as they interview Erlandsson’s friends and family, they discover a disturbing web of secrets, including a possible link to the cases of two missing girls. Could Erlandsson have been less of a saint than everyone thinks?

A dark and layered story told through multiple perspectives, The Saint is the fourth in the highly acclaimed Hammarby police series from Swedish author Carin Gerhardsen.
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The Saint

The Saint

by Carin Gerhardsen
The Saint
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The Saint

The Saint

by Carin Gerhardsen

Overview

In this internationally bestselling Nordic noir, the investigation into the murder of a beloved soccer coach in a quiet Stockholm neighborhood reveals a dark truth.

Local girls’ soccer coach Sven-Gunnar Erlandsson is practically a saint in the community, known for his good works and volunteering. So when his body is found in Stockholm’s beautiful Herräng forest, shot at close range in the back of the neck while walking home from a late-night poker game, the police struggle to find a motive. Nothing has been taken from his pockets except his cell phone, and the only other clues left behind are a cryptic handwritten note and a handful of playing cards.

The Hammarby murder squad takes the case, splitting up the leads between their eclectic mix of officers. Led by Detective Chief Inspector Conny Sjöberb, the team also includes a veteran inspector who balances his career with caring for his disabled daughter, a widow who has returned to police work after several decades spent as a homemaker and pursuing a law degree, a new transplant who recently achieved minor celebrity status as an Idol contestant, and a young police assistant struggling with trauma she can’t share with her colleagues.

Each member of the team pursues a different lead and, as they interview Erlandsson’s friends and family, they discover a disturbing web of secrets, including a possible link to the cases of two missing girls. Could Erlandsson have been less of a saint than everyone thinks?

A dark and layered story told through multiple perspectives, The Saint is the fourth in the highly acclaimed Hammarby police series from Swedish author Carin Gerhardsen.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781613165553
Publisher: Penzler Publishers
Publication date: 11/12/2024
Pages: 336
Sales rank: 304,325
Product dimensions: 8.10(w) x 5.50(h) x 0.90(d)

About the Author

Carin Gerhardsen is a mathematician who made her literary debut in 1992. Her standalone thriller, Black Ice, was selected as one of Publishers Weekly’s best mysteries of the year, and her Hammarby series has been translated into 25 languages and sold over three million copies worldwide. She lives in Stockholm.

Read an Excerpt

A tent had been set up over the body, but the dead man was a pitiful creature lying there in a prostrate side position. The clothes were completely soaked, but the rain had efficiently removed all the blood from the asphalt path he was lying on. The gaping holes in the neck and throat testified that there must have been a lot of blood. In addition, everything indicated that he had also been shot in the back.

He was properly dressed in suede loafers, beige trousers, light blue shirt and navy blue jacket. An elegant watch could be glimpsed from under the sleeve and there was a gold ring on the ring finger of the left hand. The man’s pockets had been emptied at an early stage to rescue as much as possible from the rain. His wallet had still been in the inside pocket of the jacket and it contained both cards and cash, which argued against murder with robbery. According to the driver’s license the victim was fifty-two years old and was named Sven-Gunnar Erlandsson.

Sjöberg, Hamad, Westman and Andersson stood outside the investigation tent looking in to get a picture of the crime scene. Two technicians were working inside. It seemed to be a hopeless enterprise to sort out any traces whatsoever of the murderer from the pools of water on the asphalt.

“The weather was nice last night. Does anyone know when it started raining?” Sjöberg asked.

“I went to bed about twelve, it was nice then,” Andersson replied.

“At a quarter to one when I came home it had clouded over a little,” said Hamad.

“When I got up at four-fifteen it was raining buckets and it has ever since,” Hedvig Wallin attested, suddenly showing up with Bella Hansson, Sandén and forensic physician Kaj Zetterström in tow.

“That's good, then we’ll blame you, Walleye,” said Sandén. “Nice seeing you all together, has the summer been good?”

“Hmm, until now anyway,” Sjöberg answered. “Thanks for showing up.”

He took a step to one side so that Hansson and Zetterström could enter the tent.

“I thought it would be good if everyone was here from the start, then we avoid going over everything again on Monday. You’ll get comp time on some other occasion, hope that's okay. If you’ll take a look in there,” Sjöberg continued, directing himself to Wallin and Sandén, “we’ll take a stroll out here. I’m going to exchange a few words with the police officers who were first on the scene.”

At the barricade tape a short distance away on the road stood two uniformed police officers, one male and one female, who seemed to be hoping for better times. One of them turned a face up to the sky, but it gave no sign of a break in the weather in the immediate future, with its unchanging uniform gray.

“Who found the body?” asked Sjöberg.

“A jogger,” answered the female police officer. “A young girl who lives here in the vicinity. We sent her home.”

“Had she seen or heard anything?”

“Nothing. This was about five o’clock.”

“Did she touch him?”

“She felt for a pulse, but it was obvious that he was dead, so she made no resuscitation attempts. She knew the victim besides.”

“She knew him? How?”

“He was apparently her soccer coach,” the other one explained. “She was extremely shaken. They probably had a match today too.”

“Good Lord. How old is she?”

“Thirteen. Josefin Siem, her name is. You'll get her information.”

The male officer wriggled a notebook out from somewhere under his rainsuit, tore off a page and gave it to Sjöberg who nodded in thanks and went back to the investigation tent where the others were gathered.

“Nasty,” said Sandén, shaking his head. “He looks like any old white-bread Svensson.”

“They say he’s a soccer coach,” said Sjöberg. “According to the girl who found him.”

“There were credit cards and money in his wallet,” said Wallin. “Over a thousand kronor. So he doesn't appear to have been robbed.”

“On the other hand he had no cell phone and that must be considered rather unusual these days,” Sandén said.

Sjöberg was doubtful.

“Cell phone thieves are usually young guys who use a knife in the worst case. I find it highly improbable that a gang of teenage boys would shoot someone’s head off for a cell phone. Anything else you’ve noticed?”

Hansson looked out of the tent opening.

“I thought you’d want to know what we found on him. You know about the wallet. Sporty Seiko brand watch. Gold ring without inscription, apparently a wedding ring because it was on the left ring finger. And he had four playing cards in the breast pocket of his jacket.”

“Aces?” asked Westman.

“Well, one of the cards was probably an ace, but not all.”

“A cheater maybe?” Hamad wondered. “According to fine old tradition, you shoot cheaters in the head.”

“What happened to tar and feathers?” Sandén sighed.

Zetterström too appeared from inside the tent. “He wasn't shot in the head, but in the neck. At close range and with a large-bore weapon, I would guess. The bullet went right through the throat, so you'll probably find it hereabouts, I guess. I haven't found any exit hole from the first shot, presumably the bullet hit the spine and changed direction, so it remained inside the body somewhere. I’ll get back to that when I've gotten started on the autopsy.”

The forensic doctor withdrew into the tent and Hansson picked up the thread again.

“We found a handwritten note in the same pocket as the playing cards, but it’s so soggy from all the rain that the text can’t be made out. It appears to be both numbers and letters, but it's extremely blurry.”

“A telephone number maybe? Or an address?” Andersson suggested.

“Very possible. I’ll do what I can to get it in legible shape. That was all.”

“Thanks for that,” said Sjöberg. “I'll find out where he lived, if he has any relatives and whether he’s been reported missing.”

He took a look at his watch.

“It's not seven yet, so it’s very possible that no one has missed him yet. He must have some relative, judging by the ring. Let’s go back to the cars.”

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