One Step Behind (1997) kw-7

by Henning Mankell

  "Members of the public were asked to call the police if they had any information regarding who she was."

  Wallander nodded. Sundelius laid the photograph back on the table.

  "So I should already have contacted you if I had known anything about her."

  "Do you?"

  "No. And I have a gift for faces. It's a necessity for a banker."

  Wallander couldn't help himself. Why would bank directors need to have a gift for faces? He asked the question and got another long answer.

  "There was a time when I was young when it was the only kind of credit information there was," Sundelius said. "That was before our society started recording its citizens' every move. We speak of before and after the birth of Christ, but it would be more accurate to speak of before and after the invention of personal identification numbers. When I was young, you had to make your decision on the spot. Was the person standing before you honest? Did he mean what he said? Did he have integrity, or was he a liar? I remember an old clerk in Vadstena who never gathered any credit reports on his clients, and this even after the regulations were tightened and it was easier to collect such information. However large the loan in question, he would simply study the person's face. And he was never wrong, not once over the course of his whole career. He rejected the scoundrels, and helped the honest and hardworking. Of course, he could never foresee a person's luck."

  Wallander nodded and continued. "This woman has been connected with Kalle," he said. "According to reliable information, they saw each other for about ten years. Or, to be more precise, they had a relationship for ten years. Kalle remained a bachelor, but he was apparently involved with this woman for a very long time."

  Sundelius froze with the coffee cup halfway to his mouth. When Wallander finished speaking, he slowly lowered it onto the saucer.

  "That was not very reliable information," he said. "You're wrong."

  "In what way?"

  "In all ways. Kalle didn't have a girlfriend."

  "We know these meetings took place in secret."

  "They didn't take place at all."

  Sundelius was sure of himself. But Wallander also sensed something else in the tone of his voice. At first he couldn't tell what it was. Then he realised that Sundelius was upset. He maintained his self-control, but an edge had crept into his voice.

  "Let me make it clear that none of his colleagues nor anyone else knew about this woman," Wallander said. "Only one person knew about her. So we're all very surprised."

  "Who knew about her?"

  "I'd rather not tell you for now."

  Sundelius looked at Wallander. There was something resolute and yet vacant in his gaze. But Wallander was sure: the indignation and irritation were there. It was not his imagination.

  "Let us leave this unknown woman for a while," Wallander said. "How did you meet?"

  Sundelius's manner was altered. Now his answers came reluctantly and without his previous fluency. He had been led into an area where he hadn't been expecting to go.

  "We met in the home of mutual friends in Malmo."

  "Is that what it says in your notebook?"

  "I really don't know why the police would be interested in what my calendar does or does not say."

  Now he's completely dismissive, Wallander thought. A photograph of an unknown woman changes everything. He continued carefully.

  "But it was at that time that you started maintaining a friendship?"

  Sundelius seemed to have realised that his new attitude was noticeable. He resumed his calm and friendly manner, but Wallander still felt his attention was elsewhere.

  "We would study the night sky together. That was all."

  "Where did you go?"

  "Out into the countryside, where it's dark. Especially in the autumn. We would go to Fyledalen, among other places."

  Wallander thought for a moment. "You were surprised when I first contacted you," he said. "You said you were surprised that I hadn't been in touch earlier, since Kalle didn't have many close friends. Did you count yourself among them?"

  "I remember what I said."

  "But now you describe a relationship based on a mutual interest in the night sky. Was that all it was?"

  "Neither he nor I was the intrusive type."

  "But it hardly qualifies you as a close friend, does it? Nor as the kind of friend we as his colleagues would have heard about."

  "It was what it was."

  No, Wallander thought. It wasn't. But I still don't know what it was.

  "When was the last time you saw each other?"

  "In the middle of July. The 16th, to be precise."

  "You went to look at the stars?"

  "We went out to Osterlen. It was a very clear night, although summer is not the best time."

  "How was he?"

  Sundelius looked at him blankly. "I don't understand the question."

  "Was he his normal self? Did he say anything unexpected?"

  "He was exactly as he always was. You don't talk much when you look at stars. At least we never did."

  "And after that?"

  "We didn't see each other again."

  "Had you decided when you would see each other again?"

  "He said he was going away for a few days and that he had a lot to do. We said we would be in touch in August, when he was due to take his holidays."

  Wallander held his breath. Three days later Svedberg had gone to Barnso. What Sundelius had just said seemed to indicate that Svedberg had already decided to go. He'd said he had a lot to do, and that he was due to take his holiday in August, although he was actually in the middle of his holiday already.

  Svedberg was lying, Wallander thought. Even to Sundelius, who was his friend, he had lied about the way he was spending his holiday. He didn't tell people at work either. For the first time Wallander felt that he was very close to a revelation. But he still didn't see what it could be.

  Wallander thanked him for the coffee. Sundelius followed him to the door.

  "I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again," Wallander said as he took his leave. Sundelius had completely regained his composure.

  "I'd be grateful if you would let me know when the funeral is going to be."

  Wallander promised him he would be notified. He walked along Vadergrand and sat down on a bench outside Cafe Backahasten. As he watched the ducks swimming in the pond, he went over his conversation with Sundelius. There were two moments of particular significance: one when Wallander had showed him the photograph, the other when he had realised that Svedberg was lying. He stayed with the photograph for a moment. It wasn't just the picture that had upset him; it was also the fact that Wallander had spoken of a ten-year love affair.

  Perhaps it's that easy, he thought. Maybe there wasn't one love affair but two. Could Sundelius and Svedberg have had a relationship? Was there something to the rumour that Svedberg was gay? Wallander grabbed a handful of gravel and let it fall through his fingers. He still had doubts. The photograph was of a woman, and Sture Bjorklund was very sure of the fact that a woman called Louise had long been a part of Svedberg's life. That raised another important question. Why did Sture Bjorklund know about this woman when no one else did?

  Wallander wiped off his hands and got up. He remembered the prescription, and stopped at a pharmacy to have it filled. When he took out the prescription slip, he noticed that his phone was turned off. He continued on to the station at a more rapid clip. His conversation with Sundelius had propelled him deeper into the investigation.

  When Wallander walked through the station doors, Ebba told him that everyone was looking for him. He told her to tell people that they were meeting in half an hour. On his way to his office he bumped into Hansson.

  "I was just coming to find you. Some results have come in from Lund."

  "Can the pathologist give us a time of death?"

  "It seems like it."

  "Then let's have a look."

  Wallander followed Hansson to his office. Whe
n they walked past Svedberg's office, he noticed to his surprise that the nameplate was already gone. His surprise turned into dismay, then anger.

  "Who removed Svedberg's nameplate?"

  "I don't know."

  "Couldn't the bastards at least have waited until after the funeral?"

  "The funeral is on Tuesday," Hansson said. "Lisa said that the minister of justice will be attending."

  Wallander knew her from her TV appearances to be a very determined and self-confident woman. Right now her name escaped him. Hansson hastily brushed some racing forms off his desk and got out the pathologist's report. Wallander leaned against the wall while Hansson was rifling through the report.

  "Here we are," he said finally.

  "Let's start with Svedberg."

  "He was hit with two shots from the front. Death was instantaneous."

  "But when?" Wallander said impatiently. "Skip the rest unless it's important. I want a time."

  "When you and Martinsson found him he couldn't have been dead more than 24 hours, and not less than ten."

  "Are they sure? Or will they change their minds?"

  "They seem sure. And just as sure that Svedberg was sober when he died."

  "Were there speculations to the contrary?"

  "I'm just stating what the report says. His last meal, taken a couple of hours before he died, was of yogurt."

  "That suggests he died in the morning."

  Hansson nodded. Everyone knew that Svedberg ate yogurt for breakfast. When he was forced to work a night shift he always put a container of yogurt in the fridge in the canteen.

  "There it is," Wallander said.

  "There's a lot more," Hansson continued. "Do you want the details?"

  "I'll go over those myself later," Wallander said. "What does it say about the three young people?"

  "That it's difficult to ascertain their time of death."

  "We knew that already. But what's their conclusion?"

  "Their tentative conclusion is that there needs to be further research done, but they don't rule out the possibility that the victims could have been killed as early as 21 June, Midsummer's Eve, with one stipulation."

  "That the bodies weren't left out in the open air."

  "Exactly. Of course, they're not sure."

  "But I am. Now we can finally draw up a time frame. We'll start with that at the meeting."

  "I haven't located the cars yet," Hansson said. "The killer must have disposed of them too somehow."

  "Maybe he buried them as well," Wallander said. "Whatever he did with them, they have to be found as soon as possible."

  He walked back to his office, got out his medication, and read the label. It was called Amaryl, and the instructions said to take it with food. Wallander wondered when he would have a chance to eat next. He got up with a heavy sigh and walked to the canteen, where he found some old biscuits on a plate. He managed to get them down and took his pills when he was finished.

  He returned to his office, gathered up his papers, and went to the conference room. Just as Martinsson was about to close the door, Lisa Holgersson turned up with Thurnberg, the chief prosecutor, in tow. Wallander realised when he saw him that he hadn't really kept him informed of the investigation's progress. As might be expected, Thurnberg had a disapproving look on his face. He sat as far from Wallander as he could get.

  Holgersson told them that Svedberg's funeral was to be held on Tuesday, 20 August, at 2 p.m.

  She looked at Wallander. "I'll give a speech," she said. "So will the minister of justice and the national chief of police. But I wonder if one of you shouldn't also say a few words. I'm thinking especially of you, Kurt, since you've been here the longest."

  Wallander held up his hands. "I can't give a speech," he said. "Standing in church next to Svedberg's coffin, I won't be able to get a single word out."

  "You made a great speech when Bjork retired," Martinsson said. "One of us should say something, and it ought to be you."

  Wallander knew he couldn't do it. Funerals terrified him.

  "It's not that I don't want to do it," he said pleadingly. "I'll even write the speech. I'm just not going to be able to deliver it."

  "I'll do it if you write it." Hoglund said. "I don't think anyone should be forced to speak at a funeral unless they want to. It can be so overwhelming. I can give the speech, unless anyone objects."

  Wallander was sure that neither Hansson nor Martinsson actually thought this was the best solution. But neither one of them said so, and it was agreed that Hoglund would speak.

  Wallander quickly turned the discussion to the case. Thurnberg sat motionless at his end of the table, an inscrutable expression on his face. His presence made Wallander nervous. There was something disdainful, even hostile, in his manner.

  They went through the latest developments. Wallander gave them an abbreviated version of his conversation with Sundelius, completely leaving out Sundelius's reaction to hearing of Svedberg's ten-year relationship with an unknown woman.

  Leads kept being phoned in to the station, but there were no credible reports about the woman's identity yet. Everyone agreed that this was unusual. They decided to send the picture to the Danish papers, as well as to Interpol. After a couple of hours, they reached the matter of the pathologist's report and Wallander suggested they take a short break. Thurnberg got up immediately and left the room. He hadn't said a single word. Lisa Holgersson lingered after the others had left.

  "He doesn't seem very happy," Wallander said, referring to Thurnberg.

  "No, I don't think he is," she answered. "I think you should talk to him. He thinks this is taking too long."

  "We're working as hard as we can."

  "But do we need reinforcements?"

  "We'll discuss this issue, of course, but I can tell you right now that I for one am not going to oppose it."

  His answer seemed to relieve her. He went out and got a cup of coffee. Then they all filed back into the room. Thurnberg returned to the same seat, his face as blank as before. They began to go through the autopsy report. Wallander sketched the possible time frame on the board.

  "Svedberg was killed not more than 24 hours before we found him. Everything indicates that he was killed in the morning. As far as the young people go, it turns out that our hypothesis works better than we had imagined. It doesn't supply us with a motive or a killer, but it does tell us something significant."

  He sat down before he continued. "These young people made the arrangement for their celebration in secret. They chose a place where they were sure they would be left alone. But someone knew about their plans. Someone kept himself incredibly well informed, and had the time to make meticulous preparations. We still have no motive for what happened in the nature reserve, but we have a killer who didn't give up until he had traced the only remaining survivor of this night and killed her too. Isa Edengren. He knew she fled to Barnso, and he found her out there among all those islands. This gives us a place to start. We're looking for a person who knew about the plans for the Midsummer celebration. Someone close to the source."

  No one spoke for a long time.

  "Where do we find this person who had access to so much information?" Wallander said. "That's where we have to start. If we do, then sooner or later we'll find out where Svedberg fits into the picture."

  "We already have," Hansson said. "We know he started his investigation only a few days after Midsummer."

  "I think we can say more than that," Wallander said. "I think Svedberg had a definite suspicion who killed, or was about to kill, the young people in the reserve."

  "Why did the killer wait so long to kill Isa Edengren?" Martinsson asked. "He took more than a month to do it."

  "We don't know why," Wallander agreed. "She wasn't particularly hard to find."

  "And one more thing," Martinsson added. "Why did he dig up the bodies? Did he want them to be discovered?"

  "There's no other explanation," Wallander said. "But it raises another set of
questions about what motivates this killer. And in what way he and Svedberg had anything to do with each other."

  Wallander sat back and looked at everyone gathered around the table.

  Svedberg knew what had happened to the young people when they didn't return after Midsummer, he thought. Svedberg knew who the killer was, or at least had a very strong suspicion. That's why he was killed. There just isn't any other explanation. Which brings us to the most important question of all. Why didn't he want to tell us who the killer was?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Shortly after 2 p.m., Wallander asked Martinsson a question regarding a call that had come in from a man who had a news-stand in Solvesborg. This man had stopped at Hagestad's nature reserve on the afternoon of Midsummer's Eve on his way to a party in Falsterbo. He had realised he was going to be too early, and had stopped to take a break. He thought he remembered two cars parked at the entrance. But Wallander never heard what additional details the man remembered. When he finished asking Martinsson his question, he fainted.

  One moment he was waving his pencil in Martinsson's direction. The next he fell back in his chair, his chin to his chest. For a split second no one knew what had happened. Then Holgersson and Hoglund reacted almost simultaneously, before the others. Hansson later confessed that he had thought Wallander had had a stroke and died. What the rest of them thought, or feared, he never heard. They dragged him out of the chair and laid him out on the floor, loosened his collar, and took his pulse. Someone grabbed a phone and called an ambulance. But Wallander came to before it arrived. As they helped him to his feet, he was already thinking that his blood-sugar level must have dropped. He drank some water and took some lumps of sugar from a tray on the table. He was starting to feel his normal self again.

  Everyone around him looked worried. They thought he should go down to the hospital for an examination or at the very least go home and rest. But Wallander didn't want to do either. He excused the episode as due to lack of sleep and then returned to the matter at hand with such determined energy the others had to back down.

  The only one who didn't show signs of either worry or fear was Thurnberg. He hardly had any reaction at all. He stood up when Wallander was laid on the ground, but he didn't leave his place. No one really noticed a significant shift in expression either.