Here we are, Episode 6 out of 10, and it seems we have a culprit.
Stefan Lindberg, the eccentric vigilante, who swerves between looking after abandoned women, and bludgeoning a bad un to death and wrapping him up in the bedroom carpet – has been a dodgy one from the start, with his propensity for popping up wherever there’s a murder, and now even his eyes match a hastily drawn witness sketch (by a paranoid schizophrenic with a sword himself, but still…)
And a whole stash of medicine in his flat that, as detective Martin Rohde points out, isn’t on its way to Africa. Our Stefan’s banged to rights, surely.
I’m kind of hoping it’s not, and not just because I’ve got a massive soft spot for his ridiculously long collars, sideburns and Professor Snape-esque sneer. It’s because if it is, it’s all a bit Columbo meets Prime Suspect, where the rest of the series is just police housekeeping and a big fat sting at the end.
There’s hope, though, that this is your run-of-the-mill 2/3-of-the-way-through red herring. There’s talk of a leak at the station because only the police knew they were they seeking runaway Anja, and now she’s in a pool of blood in a car park.
And the side-plots are coming through thick and thin, with dead teenager’s brother Saif locking up one of the wayward police officers responsible for his brother’s death, and dishing out his own form of justice. We’ve had mental illness, now it’s immigration, underlining the skill of the writers to intersperse important social themes between the plot’s already-strong layers.
Meanwhile, posturing journalist Daniel Ferbe is – dare we think it – having a crisis of confidence – he’s named and shamed the wrong man, and that’s only the beginning of his ills.
Even better, we’re getting into the complexities of Saga Noren – whether she’s realising how much in common she has with the “truth terrorist” or revealing to colleague Martin Rohde her sister’s teenage suicide.
It seems to be the fashion to depict female crime-busters as women functioning through the prism of their disorders – Homeland’s Carrie praised by mental health officials for her depiction of bipolar disorder – but The Bridge has opted to add a lighter, more comedic element to Saga’s Asberger’s.
She happily tells Martin about her evening – “I had sex as well” and sits down to dinner with his wife and impressed son – “it wasn’t tasty”.
As she calmly tells her colleague, “I don’t pick up on signs.”
And best of all, Martin Rohde’s personal and professional ethics are proving as ‘short-cutted’ as those of any culprit – from ending up in bed with a witness (the delightfully de-wigged Charlotte), wandering into Stefan’s apartment while Saga battles for a search warrant, to whipping the SIM card out of the journalist’s card after spilling coffee on him.
Detective Rohde is a one-man Leveson inquiry, with only four more episodes to redeem himself, and vindicate our long-collared, sideburned friend while he's at it.