The Pyramid

by Henning Mankell

  Martinsson turned to Nyberg.

  'The technicians have worked quickly,' he said. 'Both the Eberhardsson sisters and Holm were shot with a weapon of that calibre.'

  Wallander caught his breath.

  'What's the name of the dealer?'

  'Nilsmark. But he's known as Hilton.'

  'Is it the same pistol?'

  'We can't answer that question yet. But the possibility exists.'

  Wallander nodded.

  'Good,' he said. 'This may be our breakthrough. And then we have a shot at wrapping this up before the new year.'

  CHAPTER 11

  They worked intensively for three days, until New Year's Eve. Wallander and Nyberg drove into Malmö on the morning of the twenty-eighth. Nyberg went in order to talk to the Malmö police technicians, Wallander in order to take part, and in part to take over, the questioning of the drug dealer known as Hilton. He turned out to be a man in his fifties, overweight yet able to move with a surprising agility. He was dressed in a suit and tie and appeared bored. Before the start of his questioning, Wallander had been briefed on the man's history by a detective inspector named Hyttner, whom Wallander had met before.

  Hilton had done some time at the beginning of the 1980s for dealing drugs. But Hyttner was convinced that the police and prosecutors had only been able to skim the surface that time and put him away for just a small portion of his criminal activities. He had clearly been able to retain control of his business from the prison in Norrköping where he had served his time. During his absence, the Malmö police had not been able to detect a power struggle among those who controlled the drug supply into the southern parts of Sweden.

  When Hilton had got out of prison he had immediately celebrated the event by getting divorced and marrying a young Bolivian beauty. Thereafter he had moved to a large estate just north of Trelleborg. What they also knew was that he had started to extend his hunting grounds as far as Ystad and Simrishamn and was on his way to establishing himself in Kristianstad. On the twenty-eighth of December, the police felt they had enough evidence against him to get the public prosecutor to issue a search warrant for his estate. That was when they found the gun. Hilton had immediately confessed that he had no licence for the weapon. He explained that he had bought it in order to defend himself since his home was so remotely located. But he had firmly denied any involvement in the murders of the Eberhardsson sisters and Yngve Leonard Holm.

  Wallander sat in on the drawn-out questioning of Hilton. Towards the end he posed some of his own questions, among them what exactly Hilton had been doing on the two dates in question. In the case of the Eberhardssons, the timetable was very precise. It was less certain when Holm had been shot. Hilton claimed to have been in Copenhagen when the Eberhardssons were killed. Since he had travelled alone, it would take time to confirm this claim. During the time that had elapsed between Holm going missing and when he had been found murdered, Hilton had done many different things.

  Wallander wished Rydberg was there. Wallander could usually tell fairly quickly if the person before him was telling the truth or not. But it was hard with Hilton. If Rydberg had been there they could have compared their impressions. After the session, Wallander had coffee with Hyttner.

  'We've never been able to link him to any violent incidents before,' Hyttner said. 'He has always used other boys when needed. And they haven't always been the same ones. From what we can tell, he's brought in people from the Continent when he's had to break someone's leg who hasn't performed up to snuff.'

  'All of them will have to be tracked down,' Wallander said, 'if it turns out that the weapon matches.'

  'I have a hard time believing that it's him,' Hyttner said. 'He's not the type. He has no qualms about selling heroin to schoolkids. But he's also the kind who faints when he has to give a blood sample.'

  Wallander returned to Ystad at the start of the afternoon. Nyberg remained in Malmö. Wallander noticed that he was hoping more than he believed that they were nearer to solving the case.

  At the same time another thought had started to gnaw at him. Something he had overlooked. A conclusion he should have drawn, or an assumption he should have made. He searched his mind without finding an answer.

  On his way back to Ystad he turned off by Stjärnsund and stopped for a while at Sten Widén's horse ranch. He found Widén out in the stables with an older woman who apparently owned one of the horses being trained. She was on her way out when Wallander arrived. Together, he and Widén watched the BMW drive away.

  'She's nice,' Sten Widén said. 'But the horses that she is swindled into buying don't make anybody happy. I always tell her to ask me for advice before she buys. But she thinks she knows best. Now she has one called Jupiter who is guaranteed never to win a race.'

  Widén threw his arms out.

  'But she keeps me alive,' he said.

  'La Trottiata,' Wallander said. 'I'd like to see her.'

  They walked back through the stables where the horses were stomping in various boxes. Sten Widén stopped next to one of the horses and stroked its muzzle.

  'La Trottiata,' he said. 'Not particularly wanton, I have to say. She's mostly just afraid of the stallions.'

  'Is she any good?'

  'Could be. But she has frail hind legs. We'll have to see.'

  They walked outside again. Wallander had picked up a faint trace of alcohol on Widén's breath when they were in the stables. Widén wanted to invite him in for a cup of coffee but Wallander said no.

  'I have a triple homicide to solve,' he said. 'I assume you've read about it in the papers.'

  'I only read the sport pages,' Sten Widén answered.

  Wallander left Stjärnsund. He wondered if he and Sten would ever find their way back to the ease of understanding that had once existed between them.

  When Wallander came back to the station he bumped into Björk in the reception area.

  'I hear you've solved those murders,' he said.

  'No,' Wallander said firmly. 'Nothing has been solved.'

  'Then we'll have to continue to hope,' Björk said.

  Björk left through the front doors. It is as if our confrontation had never taken place, Wallander thought. Or else he's more afraid of conflict than I am. Or nurses a grudge longer.

  Wallander gathered the squad together and reviewed the developments in Malmö.

  'Do you think it's him?' Rydberg asked when Wallander was finished.

  'I don't know,' Wallander answered.

  'That means, in other words, that you don't think it's him?'

  Wallander did not answer. He only shrugged somewhat despondently.

  As they ended the meeting, Martinsson asked if Wallander would consider switching New Year's Eve duty with him. Martinsson was on duty and would rather get out of it if he could. Wallander thought it over. Perhaps it would be best to work and keep his hands busy instead of thinking of Mona the whole time, but he had promised his father he would spend the evening in Löderup. That carried the most weight.

  'I've promised to be with my father,' he said. 'You'll have to try someone else.'

  Wallander stayed behind in the conference room after Martinsson had left. He searched for the thought that had started nagging at him on the way back from Malmö. He went over to the window and stared absent-mindedly out across the car park to the water tower. Slowly he reviewed all of the events in his mind. Tried to catch something he had missed. But it was in vain.

  The rest of the day, nothing significant occurred. Everyone was waiting. Nyberg returned from Malmö. The forensic ballistics specialists were working at full speed on the weapon. Martinsson managed to switch his New Year's Eve with Näslund, who was on bad terms with his wife and wanted to avoid being home. Wallander walked to and fro in the corridor. He kept searching for the thought that was just out of reach. It continued to gnaw on his subconscious. He knew enough to realise it was only a detail that had flashed by. Perhaps a single word that he should have caught and examined more closely. />
  It was six o'clock. Rydberg left without saying anything. Together, Wallander and Martinsson reviewed everything they knew about Yngve Leonard Holm. He was born in Brösarp and, as far as they could tell, had never held down a real job in his life. Small-time stealing in his youth had led to increasingly serious crimes. But no violence. In this he reminded them of Nilsmark. Martinsson excused himself and left. Hansson was absorbed in his racing tables, which he quickly stuffed into a drawer if anyone came into his office. In the break room Wallander talked with a couple of officers who were going to run a drunk-driving campaign over New Year. They were going to focus on the smaller roads, the 'alcohol routes' that were used by drivers with good local knowledge who were over the legal limit and still planned to drive themselves home. At seven o'clock Wallander called Malmö and spoke to Hyttner. Nothing had happened there either. But the heroin was now flowing as far north as Varberg. There, the drug trade controlled from Gothenburg took over.

  Wallander went home. The washing machine had still not been repaired. And the dirty laundry was still in his car. He angrily returned to the station and stuffed the washer full. Then he sat doodling in his notebook. Thought about Radwan and the mighty pyramids. By the time his laundry was dry it was past nine o'clock. He went home, opened a can of hash and ate in front of the TV while he watched an old Swedish film. He vaguely remembered it from his youth. He had seen it with a girl who had not allowed him to place a hand on her thigh.

  Before he went to bed he called Linda. This time it was Mona who answered. He could immediately tell from her voice that he had called at the wrong time. Linda was out. Wallander simply asked Mona to give Linda his greetings. The conversation was over before it had even begun.

  He had just crawled into bed when Emma Lundin called. Wallander pretended to have been woken up. She apologised for disturbing him. Then she asked him about New Year's Eve. Wallander told her he was planning to spend it with his father. They arranged to get together on New Year's Day. Wallander regretted this even before he replaced the receiver.

  The following day, the twenty-ninth of December, nothing happened other than that Björk was in a minor traffic accident. It was a smirking Martinsson who delivered the news. Björk had seen a car too late as he was making a left turn. It had been slick and the cars had skidded into each other and received some superficial damage.

  Nyberg was still waiting for the forensic ballistics report. Wallander spent the day trying to work through his piles of paper. In the afternoon Per Åkeson came into his office and asked for an update on the latest developments. Wallander told him the truth, that they were just hoping they were on the right track. But there was still a great deal of groundwork to be done.

  It was Åkeson's last day of work before his leave of absence.

  'My replacement is a woman,' he said. 'But I've already told you that, haven't I? Her name is Anette Brolin and she's coming down from Stockholm. You should be happy. She's much more attractive than I am.'

  'We'll see,' Wallander said. 'But I expect we'll miss you.'

  'Not Hansson,' Per Åkeson said. 'He's never liked me. Why, I don't know. The same goes for Svedberg.'

  'I'll try to find out why that is while you're gone.'

  They wished each other a happy new year and promised to stay in touch.

  That evening Wallander talked to Linda for a long time on the phone. She was planning to celebrate New Year's Eve with friends in Lund. Wallander was disappointed. He had thought, or at least hoped, that she would join them in Löderup.

  'Two old men,' she said kindly. 'I can think of a more exciting way to spend the evening.'

  After the call, Wallander realised that he had forgotten to buy the bottle of cognac his father had asked for. He should also buy a bottle of champagne. He wrote two notes. He put one on the kitchen table and one in his shoe. That night he sat up for a long time listening to an old recording of Turandot with Maria Callas. For some strange reason his thoughts wandered to the horses in Sten Widén's stables. Only when the time was close to three did he fall asleep.

  On the morning of the thirtieth there was a heavy snowfall over Ystad. It could be a chaotic New Year's Eve if the weather did not improve. But already at ten o'clock the skies cleared and the snow started to melt away. Wallander wondered why the ballistics team was taking such an inordinate amount of time to decide whether it was the same weapon. Nyberg grew angry and said that forensic technicians did not earn their measly wages by performing substandard work. Wallander immediately crawled on his knees. They made up and then spent some time talking about the low wages of the police. Not even Björk had a particularly good salary.

  In the afternoon, the investigative squad assembled for what turned out to be a slow-moving meeting since there were so few new items. The police in Marbella had sent an impressively detailed report of their search of the Eberhardsson sisters' villa. They had even included a photograph. The picture was now passed around the table. The house really was palatial. But nonetheless the report did not yield anything new to the investigation. There was no breakthrough, only this waiting.

  Their hopes were dashed on the morning of the thirty-first. The forensic ballistic specialists were able to determine that the weapon that had been found in Nilsmark's home had not been the one used to kill either the Eberhardsson sisters or Holm. For a moment, the investigative squad was deflated. Only Rydberg and Wallander had suspected that the message would most likely be in the negative. The Malmö police had also been able to confirm Nilsmark's trip to Copenhagen. He could not have been in Ystad when the sisters were slain. Hyttner also believed that Nilsmark would be able to produce an alibi for the time period of Holm's death.

  'That puts us back at square one,' Wallander said. 'In the new year we are going to have to start again at full speed. Review the material again and work deeper.'

  No one made any more comments. During the new year's holiday, the investigation would be put on hold. Since they had no immediate leads Wallander felt that what they needed most was to rest. Then they wished one another a happy new year. Finally, only Rydberg and Wallander were left.

  'We knew this,' Rydberg said. 'Both you and I. That it would have been too easy with that Nilsmark. Why the hell would he have kept the weapon? It was wrong from the start.'

  'But we still had to look into it.'

  'Police work often consists of doing what one knows from the start to be meaningless,' Rydberg said. 'But it is as you say. No stone can be left unturned.'

  Then they talked about New Year's Eve.

  'I don't envy my colleagues in the big cities,' Rydberg said.

  'It can get messy here too.'

  Rydberg asked Wallander what he was going to do.

  'I'll be out with the old man in Löderup. He wants cognac, we'll have a bite to eat, play cards, yawn and then drink a toast at midnight. Then I'll go home.'

  'I try to avoid staying up,' Rydberg said. 'New Year's Eve is a ghost. It's one of the few times during the year that I take a sleeping pill.'

  Wallander wanted to ask how Rydberg was feeling, but he decided to let it be.

  They shook hands, as if to mark the day as special.

  Then Wallander went to his office, put out an almanac for 1990 and cleaned out his drawers. It was a habit he had acquired over the past few years. New Year's Eve was for cleaning out drawers, to rid himself of old paper.

  Wallander was amazed at all the old junk he found. A bottle of glue had leaked in one of the drawers. He fetched a knife from the break room and started to scrape it away. From the corridor he could hear an outraged drunk let it be known that he did not have time to waste at the station because he was on his way to a party. It's already started, Wallander thought, and he took the knife back to the break room. He threw the bottle of glue into the bin.