The Man Who Smiled - Wallander 04

by Henning Mankell

  "I've invented a pack of lies," he said, "but you can meet her in Simrishamn an hour from now. I told her to take a taxi and that you'd pay. There's a cafe on the hill leading down to the harbour. Do you know the one I mean?"

  Wallander did.

  "She hasn't got much time," Widén said. "Take some forms with you so that she can pretend to fill them in." "Do you think she's under suspicion?" "How the devil should I know?" "Thanks for your help anyway."

  "You'll have to give her money for her taxi back to the castle as well." "I'll leave right away," Wallander said. "What's happened?" Widén said.

  "I'll tell you when I know," Wallander said. "I'll phone."

  Wallander left the police station at exactly 5 p.m. When he got to Simrishamn he parked by the harbour and walked up the hill to the cafe. As he had hoped, she was not yet there. He crossed the road and continued up the street. He stopped to look in a shop window while keeping an eye on the cafe. Not more than five minutes passed before he saw her coming up the street from the harbour, where she must have left the taxi. She went into the cafe. Wallander scrutinised the passers-by, and when he was as sure as he could be that she was not being followed, he went into the cafe. He should have taken somebody with him, to keep a lookout. She was sitting at a table in the corner. She watched him approach her table without greeting him.

  "I'm sorry I'm late," he said.

  "So am I," she said. "What do you want? I have to get back to the castle as quickly as possible. Aren't you going to pay for the taxi?"

  Wallander took out his wallet and gave her a 500-kronor note. "Is that enough?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "I need a thousand," she said.

  "What? It costs a thousand kronor to get to Simrishamn and back?" He gave her another 500-kronor note, thinking that she was probably conning him. He was annoyed, but there was no time for that.

  "What would you like?" he said. "Or have you already ordered?"

  "I wouldn't mind a coffee," she said. "And a bun."

  Wallander went to the counter and ordered. When he paid he asked for a receipt. He went back to the table with his tray.

  Sofia was looking at him with an expression which Wallander recognised as being full of contempt.

  "Roger Lundin," she said. "I don't know what your real name is, and I don't care either. But it's not Roger Lundin. And you're a policeman."

  Wallander thought he may as well tell her the truth. "You're right, I'm not Roger Lundin. And I am a police officer. But you don't need to know my real name."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I say so," Wallander said, making it clear that he would brook no discussion. She noticed his attitude changed towards her, and she regarded him with something that might even be of interest.

  "Listen carefully," Wallander said. "One day I'll explain to you why all this secrecy stuff is necessary. For now all I will say is that I'm a police officer investigating a bloody murder. Just so you realise this isn't a game. OK?" "Perhaps," she said.

  "Right now you're going to answer some questions," Wallander said. "And then you can go back to the castle."

  He remembered the forms he had in his pocket. He put them on the table and passed her a pen.

  "It could be that somebody's been following you," he said. "That's why you're now going to fill in these forms. Pretend this is what our meeting is about. Write your name at the top."

  "Who's following me?" she said, looking round the cafe.

  "Look at me," Wallander snapped. "Don't look anywhere else. If there is anybody following you we can be quite sure he can see you and that you won't see him."

  "How do you know it's a man?"

  "I don't."

  "This is ridiculous."

  "Drink your coffee, eat your bun, write in the form and look at me," Wallander said. "If you don't do as I say I'll make damn sure you never get back to Widén again."

  She seemed to believe him. She did as she was told.

  "Why do you think they're planning to move out of the castle?" he said.

  "I was told I'd only be working there for a month, and that would be it. They'd be leaving the castle." "Who told you that?" "A man came to the stables." "What did he look like?" "He was sort of black." "A black man?"

  "No, but he was wearing dark clothes and had black hair."

  "A foreigner?"

  "He spoke Swedish."

  "With a foreign accent?"

  "Could be."

  "Do you know his name?"

  "No."

  "Do you know what he does?" "No."

  "But he works at the castle?"

  "I suppose he must do."

  "What else did he say?"

  "I didn't like him. In fact, he was horrible."

  "In what way?"

  "He wandered about the stables, watching me grooming one of the horses. He asked me where I was from." "What did you say?"

  "I said I'd applied for the job because I couldn't stay on with Sten."

  "Did he ask anything else?"

  "No."

  "Why was he horrible?"

  She thought before answering. "He asked questions in a way that made it seem he didn't want me to notice he was asking anything." "Have you met anybody else?" "Only the woman who took me on." "Anita Karlén."

  "I think that was her name, yes."

  "Nobody else?"

  "No."

  "Is there nobody else looking after the horses?" "No, only me. Two horses aren't much of a problem." "Who looked after them before?" "I don't know."

  "Did they say why they suddenly needed a new stable-girl?" "The Karlén woman said something about somebody being ill." "But you didn't meet them?" "No."

  "What else have you seen?" "What do you mean?"

  "You must have seen other people. Cars coming or going."

  "The stables are apart, out of the way. I can only see one of the gables. The paddock is further away in the other direction. And anyway, I'm not allowed to go to the castle itself."

  "Who told you that?"

  "Anita Karlén. I'd be sacked on the spot if I broke any rule. And I have to phone and get permission if I want to leave the castle." "Where did the taxi pick you up?" "At the gates."

  "Is there anything else that you think might be of interest to me?"

  "How do I know what you're interested in?"

  He sensed that there was something else, but that she wasn't sure whether to mention it or not. He paused for a moment before going on, cautiously, as if he were feeling his way in the dark.

  "Let's go back a bit," he said. "To that man who came to see you in the stables. Did he say anything else?"

  "No."

  "He didn't say anything about them leaving Farnholm Castle and moving abroad?" "No."

  That's true, Wallander thought. She's telling the truth. And I don't need to worry about her remembering wrongly, but there is something else.

  "Tell me about the horses," he said.

  "They are two really beautiful riding horses," she said. "One of them, Aphrodite, is nine years old. She's light brown. The other, Juno, is seven and black. It's ages since anybody has ridden them, that's for sure."

  "How would you know that? I know very little about horses."

  "I gathered."

  Wallander smiled at her comment. But he didn't say anything, just waited for her to continue.

  "They got really excited when I came with the saddles," she said. "You could see they were dying to have a gallop."

  "And you gave them their heads?"

  "Yes."

  "You rode in the estate's grounds, I suppose?" "I'd been told which paths I could go on."

  A slight change of tone, barely perceptible, a hint of anxiety made Wallander prick up his ears. He was getting close to what she was wondering whether to mention or not.

  "So you rode off."

  "I started with Aphrodite," she said. "Meanwhile, Juno was careering round the paddock."

  "How long were you out on Aphrodite?" "Half an hour. The
grounds are huge." "Then you came back?"

  "I let Aphrodite loose and saddled up Juno. Half an hour later I was back."

  Wallander knew at once. It was while she was out with the second horse that something had happened. Her answer came much too quickly, as if she had been steeling herself to get past a frightening obstacle. The only thing to do, he decided, was to come straight to the point.

  "I'm sure that everything you're telling me is true," he said, sounding as friendly as possible.

  "I've nothing else to say. I have to be going now. If I'm late I'll get the sack."

  "You can leave in a couple of minutes. Just a few more questions. Let's go back to the stables and that man who came to see you. I don't think you told me quite everything he said. Is that right? Didn't he also say that there were certain places you weren't to go anywhere near?"

  "It was Miss Karlén who said that."

  "Maybe she did too. But the man in the stables said it in such a way that you were frightened? Am I right?" She looked away and nodded slowly.

  "But when you were out with Juno you took a wrong turning. Or maybe out of curiosity you took another path? It hasn't escaped my notice that you like to do whatever you want. Is that what happened?"

  "I took a wrong turning." She was now speaking so softly that Wallander had to lean over the table to hear what she was saying.

  "I believe you," he said. "Tell me what happened on that path."

  "Juno suddenly reared up and threw me off. It was only when I was lying there that I saw what had scared him. It looked as if somebody had fallen on the path. I thought it was a dead body. But when I went to look I saw it was a human-sized doll."

  Wallander could see she was still fearful. He recalled what Gustaf Torstensson had said to Mrs Dunér, about Harderberg having a macabre sense of humour.

  "I'd have been frightened to death as well," he said. "But nothing's going to happen to you. Not if you keep in touch with me."

  "I like the horses," Sofia said. "But not the rest of it."

  "Stick to the horses," Wallander said. "And remember which paths you're not supposed to ride on."

  He could see she felt relieved, now that she had told him what had happened.

  "Go back now," he said, gathering up the papers on the table. "I'll stay here for a while. You're right, you mustn't be late."

  She stood up and left. Half a minute later Wallander followed her into the street. He supposed she would have gone down to the harbour to get a taxi from there, but he was just in time to see her get into a taxi next to the newspaper stall. The car drove away, and he waited to make sure it was not followed. Then he went to his own car and drove back to Ystad, thinking about what she had said. He certainly could not, on her evidence, be sure about Harderberg's plans.

  The pilots, he thought. And the flight plans. We have to be one step ahead of him if he really is going to move abroad.

  It was time for another visit to Farnholm Castle. He wanted to talk to Harderberg himself again.

  Wallander was at the police station by 7.45. He bumped into Höglund in the corridor. She nodded at him, curtly, and disappeared into her office. Wallander stopped in mid-stride, bewildered. Why had she been so abrupt? He turned back and knocked on her office door. When she responded he opened the door but did not go in.

  "It's customary to say 'hello' in this police station," he said.

  She went on poring over a file.

  "What's the matter?"

  She looked up at him. "I wouldn't have thought you needed to ask me that," she said.

  Wallander stepped inside her office. "I don't understand," he said. "What have I done?"

  "I thought you were different," she said, "but now I see that you're the same as all the rest of them."

  "I still don't get it," Wallander said. "Would you mind explaining?"

  "I've nothing else to say. I'd prefer you to leave."

  "Not until I've had an explanation."

  Wallander was not sure if she was about to throw a fit of rage, or burst into tears.

  "I thought we were well on the way to becoming friends," he said, "not just colleagues."

  "So did I," she said. "But no longer." "Explain!"

  "I'll be honest with you," she said, "even though that's the very opposite of what you've been with me. I thought you were someone I could trust, but you're not. It may take me some time to get used to that."

  Wallander flung his arms out wide. "Do please explain."

  "Hanson came back today," she said. "You must know that because he came to my office and told me about a conversation he had just had with you."

  "What did he say?"

  "That you were glad he was back."

  "So I am. We need every officer we can get."

  "The more so since you're disappointed in me."

  Wallander stared at her in bewilderment. "He said that? That I was disappointed in you? He said I'd told him that?"

  "I only wish you'd said it to me first."

  "But it's not true. I said exactly the opposite. I told him you'd already proved yourself to be a good police officer." "He sounded very convincing."

  Wallander was furious. "That bloody Hanson!" he almost shouted. "If you like I'll phone him and tell him to get himself in here this minute. Surely you accept that not a word of what he said is true?"

  "Why did he say it then?"

  "Because he's nervous."

  "Of me?"

  "Why do you think he's away on courses all the time? Because he's afraid you'll overtake him. He hates to think that you are going to prove to be a better police officer than he is."

  He could tell that she was beginning to believe him. "It's true," he said. "Tomorrow you and I are going to have a little talk with Mr Hanson. And it's not going to be a pleasant little talk as far as he's concerned, I can promise you that."

  She looked up at him. "In that case, I apologise," she said.

  "He's the one who needs to apologise," Wallander said. "Not you."

  But the following day, Friday, November 26, the frost white on the trees outside the police station, Höglund asked Wallander not to say anything to Hanson. After sleeping on it, she had decided that she would prefer to speak to him herself, at some stage in the future, when she had had a chance to distance herself from it. Wallander was persuaded that she believed him now, so he raised no objection. Which did not mean that he would forget what Hanson had done. Later in the morning, with everybody seeming to be frozen stiff" and out of sorts, apart from Åkeson who was fighting fit again, Wallander called a meeting. He told the team about his meeting with Sofia in Simrishamn, but it did not seem to improve the mood of his colleagues. On the other hand, Svedberg produced a map of the Farnholm Castle estate. It was very big. Svedberg told them that the extensive grounds had been acquired in the late nineteenth century when the castle belonged to a family with the strikingly unnoble name of Mårtensson. The head of the household had made a fortune building houses in Stockholm and then he had built what some would call a folly. Apparently, he was not only obsessed with grandeur, but may even have been close to actual lunacy. When Svedberg had exhausted all he had discovered about the castle, they continued to cross off their list aspects of the investigation that either had proved to be insignificant, or at the least could be put to one side for the present, being of little importance. Höglund had finally managed to have a detailed conversation with Kim Sung-Lee, the cleaner at the Torstensson offices. As anticipated, she had nothing of significance to say, and her papers had proved to be in order and her presence in Sweden totally legal. Höglund had also on her own initiative talked to the clerk, Sonia Lundin. Wallander could not help being pleased to note that Hanson was unable to conceal his disapproval of the way she had acted on her own initiative. Unfortunately, Sonia Lundin had nothing helpful to say either. One more possible lead could be crossed off. Eventually, when everybody appeared to be still more out of sorts and inert, and a grey fog seemed to have settled over the conference table,
Wallander tried to bring them back to life by urging them to concentrate on the flight plans of Harderberg's Gulfstream. He also suggested that Hanson should make discreet enquiries about the two pilots. But he failed to blow away the fog, the inertia that had started to worry him, and it now seemed to him that their only hope was that the financial experts with all their computer expertise might be able to breathe new life into the investigation. They had undertaken a thorough investigation into the Harderberg empire, but they had been forced to ask for an extension of the deadline, and the meeting had been postponed until the following Monday, November 29.

  Wallander had just decided to declare the meeting closed when Åkeson put his hand up. "We must talk about the state of play in the investigation," he said. "I've allowed you to concentrate on Alfred Harderberg for another month, but at the same time I can't ignore the fact that we have only extremely thin evidence to justify it. It's as if we're drifting further from something crucial with every day that passes. I think we'd all benefit from making one more clear and simple summary of where we've got to, based exclusively on the facts. Nothing else."

  Everybody looked at Wallander. Åkeson's comments came as no surprise, even if Wallander would have rather not been confronted by them.

  "You're right," he said. "We need to see where we are. Even without any results from the fraud squads' analyses."

  "Unravelling a financial empire doesn't necessarily identify a murderer, let alone several," Åkeson said.

  "I know that," Wallander said, "but nevertheless, the picture is not complete without their information."

  "There is no complete picture," Martinsson said glumly. "There's no picture at all."

  Wallander could see he would need to get a grip on the situation before it slid out of control. To give himself time to gather his thoughts he suggested they should have a short break and air the room. When they reassembled, he was firm and decisive.

  "I can see a possible pattern," he began, "just as you all can. But let's approach it from a different angle and begin by taking a look at what this case isn't. There's nothing to convince us that we're dealing with a madman. It's true, of course, that a clever psychopath could have planned a murder disguised as a car accident, but there are no apparent motives, and what happened to Sten Torstensson doesn't seem to hang together with what happened to his father, from a psychopathic point of view. Nor do the attempts to blow up Mrs Dunér and me. I say me rather than Höglund because I think that's the way it was. Which brings me to the pattern that revolves around Farnholm Castle and Alfred Harderberg. Let's go back in time. Let's start with the day about five years ago when Gustaf Torstensson was first approached by Alfred Harderberg."