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In fact, I'm not quite sure what you're doing here. If you don't mind,
I'd like to sit with my daughter. Of course. See you back at the station. Oh, God, no. I thought I'd pay you a visit at work. They said that you got into a fight? At the supermarket? It's going. It's eating into me.
Dementia, senility. Alzheimer's! Whatever they call it now. Have you seen someone? Have you been diagnosed? Does it matter? What do you mean, does it matter? Why didn't you say something? Why?! What did you think? Did you think that you would martyr yourself to it? That you could beat it? Christ! How long have you got? Months! I don't know!
What about. What about Gertrude, does she know? I told her not to say anything.
I don't think it's the first time she's tried.
You bloody tyrant! You bloody old tyrant! I'm so sorry, Dad. I don't know what to do. What can I do? Well, there must be something.
Do you want to solve it? Well, you can't! It is what it is! So, who did I hit? I don't know what I'm saying, exactly. Painting, something sexual, yeah? Abuse? I don't know. But the mother got really spiky when I asked about Erika and her father. Fredman has a daughter, strangely absent. Wetterstedt?
Young girls. Prostitutes. It's not the same. Similar taste in art. There's no connection to Fredman. Apart from the killer. All the prints from each case are the same. He leaves them everywhere.
Can I talk to her?
Are you absolutely sure it's a he? I can't see a woman landing those blows. Even an abused woman? There's something essentially male about the killings, Their conception, their execution.
Well, is there a chance he's done now? My instinct tells me not. Oh. Nyberg. Can you come and have a look at this? What? It's a report from the lab. Your father's ill, isn't he? I saw him when they brought him in. The raging, the confusion.
Not much we can do. Can't solve Alzheimer's.