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Summary
There's something that Carl Morck wants. Needs, even. Unfortunately, Carl has never been good at asking for what he wants.
“DCI Morck,” he asked in a low voice, “Are you incapable of focusing on your work today?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Carl replied, grinning crookedly.
Akram looked at him.
“Why?”
“It’s Thursday,” Carl said, as though that explained everything. Akram didn’t reply, just let the silence stretch, the way he might when trying to get a suspect to talk.
“Thursday is music lessons,” Carl explained, “Means we’ll have two hours to ourselves before the girls get home.”