Chapter 3 third chapter

On a Friday night, the cafes in Stockholm should be packed with weekenders, but today was different, for a simple reason.Restaurant prices have tripled over the past five years, making it impossible for the average working class to afford a single meal a month.The restaurant owner complained again and again, lamenting the difficulty of doing business.Restaurateurs who don't turn their restaurants into cheap bars or discotheques to appeal to a younger consumer base survive by attracting more high-spending, credit-card-wielding businessmen: businessmen love to do business at tables of abundance.

Old Stein's "half days" were not much better.It was late—to be exact, it was already Saturday—but in the past hour, there were only two customers in the restaurant on the first floor.After eating their steaks, the guests were now drinking coffee and cider and talking in low tones at a table in the alcove. Two waitresses sat folding napkins at a small table opposite the entrance.The younger one had red hair and a tired face.She stood up and glanced at the clock on the bar, then yawned, picked up a napkin and walked over to the guests in the alcove. "Do you two want anything else to order before the bar closes?" the girl asked, wiping the cigarette ash off the tablecloth with her napkin. "Would you like some more hot coffee, team leader?"

Martin Baker did not expect to be a little proud of being recognized by the girl. Usually he just finds it annoying.Martin Baker was somewhat of a public figure as head of the police homicide unit, but he hadn't been in the newspapers or on TV for a long time, and the waitresses would recognize him, presumably because the restaurant had begun to treat him as a regular. Alright.It should be like this.So far, Martin Baker has lived in this neighborhood for two years, and when he occasionally comes out to eat, he usually goes to "Taiping Years" to eat, but it is not common for someone to accompany him to eat like tonight.

Sitting across from him was his daughter Ingrid.Ingrid was nineteen, and apart from her daughter's blond hair and her father's dark hair, they looked alike. "Any more coffee?" Martin Baker asked. Ingrid shook her head, and the waitress left to prepare the bill.Martin Baker took out the small bottle of fruit wine from the ice bucket and poured the rest into their glasses. Ingrid sipped her wine. "We should do this more often," she said. "Drink fruit wine?" "Well, it's pretty good. No, I mean we should get together more often. Next time I ask you to dine with me. You haven't seen my place in Closter Road yet."

Ingrid moved out three months before her parents divorced.Martin Baker sometimes thought that if he hadn't been encouraged by his daughter, he might not have the courage to break up with Yingya and end this nominal marriage.Ingrid was unhappy at home and moved in with friends before graduating high school.Now she is studying sociology at university, and she just found a flat in Shi Desang recently. Although she is still subletting it with others, she should be able to rent it by herself in the future. "Mum and Love came to see me the day before yesterday," she said. "I wanted to bring you too, but I couldn't find you."

"I've been at Olive Blue for two days. Are they okay?" "That's great. Mom has a big suitcase, towels, napkins, even the blue coffee maker, and I don't know what else. Oh, we talked about Love's birthday, and Mom hopes We can go and have dinner with them, if you can find the time." Love is three years younger than Ingrid. They have very different personalities, but they have always gotten along well. The red-haired waitress brought the bill and Martin Baker paid the check and drank his drink. He looked at his watch. It was only a few minutes before one o'clock.

"Let's go?" said Ingrid, gulping down the last drops of the fruit wine. The father and daughter walked north along the Osterland Road, the night sky was starry and the air was crisp and cold. Two drunk teenagers came out of Duquesne Street noisyly, and the noise echoed among the old buildings. Ingrid walked with her father's arm on her arm.The tall and thin Ingrid has long legs. Martin Baker thought she was too thin, but he kept hearing her clamoring to lose weight. "Would you like to come up and sit?" Martin Baker asked as the two walked towards the hills of the Comandoc.

"Okay, but I'll just go up and hail a taxi. It's late, you should go to bed." Martin Baker yawned. "I'm really tired." A man squatted under a statue of St. George and the dragon and seemed to be asleep, his forehead resting on his knees. As Ingrid and Martin Baker passed by, the man raised his head, muttered something vaguely in a high voice, stretched his legs, dropped his chin to his chest, and fell asleep again. "Shouldn't he be sleeping in a shelter?" Ingrid said. "It's cold outside." "Sooner or later," said Martin Baker, "if there's room there. But I've been out of drunks for a long time."

The two walked silently to Corman Street. Martin Baker thought of the summer twenty years ago when he was still a patrolman in the Nicola District.Stockholm was not the same as it is today. Old Stan used to be a poetic rural town. Of course there were more drunks and poor people than now, but the government vigorously cleared the slums and rebuilt the town houses. After the rent rose to the point where the old tenants could no longer afford it Instead, living here has become a fashion, and he himself is now one of the privileged few. The father and daughter took the elevator to the top floor, which was added when they renovated the building, and it was a rare top floor in Old Stan.The apartment was very modern in design and consisted of a living room, a kitchenette, bathroom, and two rooms with east-facing windows facing a large courtyard.

The large and small rooms are warm, with deep bay windows and low ceilings, the first room is furnished with comfortable easy chairs and low tables, and has a fireplace; There were shelves and cupboards, and by the window was a large desk with rows of drawers. Without taking off her coat, Ingrid walked to the desk in the room, picked up the receiver and called a taxi. "Won't you stay a while?" cried Martin Baker from the kitchen. "No, I have to go home and sleep. I'm exhausted. You're not the same." Martin Baker didn't protest. He suddenly felt sleepy, but he had been yawning all night. Just now, when the father and daughter went to see Truffaut's "The Four Hundred Blows", they had fallen asleep several times.

Ingrid finally hailed a taxi, went to the kitchen, and kissed her father on the cheek. "Thank you, I'm very happy tonight. If we don't see each other again recently, let's meet on Love's birthday. Get a good sleep." Martin Baker walks his daughter up the elevator, murmurs goodbye, watches the doors close, and heads back to his apartment. He took out a beer pouring glass from the refrigerator, went into the room and put the glass on the desk, then walked to the stereo next to the fireplace, picked out a piece of Bach's "Brandenburg Concerto" and put it on the record player.The building is so self-contained that Martin Baker knows that even if the volume is turned up high, it won't disturb the neighbors.He sat at the table drinking beer, the cold and refreshing beer washed away the sweetness of the fruit wine.He slipped the filter over the cigarette, bit it between his teeth, and struck the match.Martin Baker propped his chin on his hand and looked out the window. The deep blue starry sky in the spring night covered the courtyard, and the roof was glowing with blue light. Martin Baker listened to the music, let his thoughts run freely, and felt infinitely relaxed and self-sufficient. After turning over the records, he walked to the shelf next to the bed, took down a half-finished model of the Feiyun sailing ship, and slowly made the mast and the long post for the sail.After more than an hour, he put the model back on the shelf. While changing his clothes, Martin Baker proudly admired the two models he had made - the T-Shirt and the training ship Denmark.Soon there was only the rope part left on the Feiyun, which was the most difficult and annoying part. He walked out of the kitchen naked, put the ashtray and beer glasses on the counter next to the sink, and turned off all the lights except the one next to the pillow.Martin Baker closed the bedroom door and went back to bed. He adjusted the clock, and the hands pointed to two thirty-five.Then he checked to see if the alarm button was on.Hopefully tonight is okay so he can sleep until he wakes up naturally. Kurt Bejengren's "Steamboat Structure" was lying on the bedside table. Martin Baker flipped through it quickly, looked at the photos he had carefully studied before, occasionally read a short explanation, looked at the picture captions, and relive old dreams Fan.The book was thick and not suitable for reading in bed, and soon his hands were sore from the pressure of the book.He put the book aside and reached out to turn off the bedside lamp. Then the phone rang.