One Step Behind (22 page)

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. When 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 Björk 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." Höglund 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 Höglund 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 Bärnsö, 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?

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 Sölvesborg. 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 Höglund 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.

When they took a break Wallander went to his office and called Dr Göransson, and told him about the fainting episode. Dr Göransson did not seem surprised.

"Your blood-sugar level will continue to fluctuate," he said. "It'll take us a while to get it stabilised. We may have to reduce your medication if it keeps happening, but until then keep an apple handy in case you get dizzy."

After that day Wallander walked around with lumps of sugar in his pocket, as if he were expecting to see a horse. He didn't tell anyone about his diabetes. It was still his secret.

The meeting dragged on until 5 p.m., but by then they had managed to go through every aspect of the investigation thoroughly. There was a new infusion of energy in the room. They decided to call for reinforcements from Malmö, although Wallander knew that it was the people gathered around the table who would remain the core members of the investigative team.

Thurnberg remained behind after everyone had filed out of the room, and Wallander realised he must want to have a word with him. As he made his way to the other side of the table, he thought regretfully of Per Åkeson, who was somewhere under an African sun.

"I've been expecting a debriefing for quite a while," Thurnberg said. His voice was high-pitched and always sounded on the verge of cracking.

"We should have done this earlier, of course," Wallander said in a friendly tone. "But the direction of the investigation has shifted dramatically over the last couple of days."

Thurnberg ignored Wallander's last comment. "In the future I expect to be continuously apprised of the situation without having to ask. The justice department is naturally very interested when a police officer is killed."

Wallander felt no need to answer. He waited for him to continue.

"The investigation up to this point can hardly be called successful or even as thorough as one would hope," Thurnberg said, gesturing to a long list of points he had written on a pad of paper in front of him. Wallander felt as if he was back at school being told he had failed a test.

"If the criticisms are warranted we'll take the steps necessary to remedy the situation," he said.

He tried hard to sound calm and friendly, but he knew he would be unable to conceal his anger much longer. Who did this visiting prosecutor from Örebro think he was? How old was he? He couldn't be more than 33.

"I'll see to it that you have my list of complaints about the handling of the case on your desk tomorrow morning," Thurnberg said. "I'll be expecting a written response from you."

Wallander stared back at him quizzically. "Do you really mean you want us to waste time writing letters to each other while a killer who's committed five brutal murders is still running around out there?"

"What I mean is that the investigation so far has not been satisfactory."

Wallander hit the table with his fist and got up so violently that the chair fell to the ground. "There are no perfect investigations!" he roared. "But no one is going to accuse me or my colleagues of not having done everything that we can."

Thurnberg's expression finally changed. His face drained of all colour.

"Go ahead and send me your little note," Wallander said. "If you are right, we'll do as you say. But don't expect me to write you any letters in reply."

Wallander left the room and slammed the door shut behind him.

Höglund was on her way into her office and turned around when she heard the noise.

"What was that all about?" she asked.

"It's Thurnberg," Wallander said. "The bastard's whining about the investigation."

"Why?"

"He doesn't think we're thorough enough. How could we possibly have done more?"

"He probably just wants to show you who's boss."

"In that case he's picked the wrong man."

Wallander went into her office and sat down heavily in her visitor's chair.

"What happened in there?" she asked. "When you fainted."

"I haven't been sleeping well," he said, dodging her question. "But I feel fine now."

He got the same feeling he had when he was in Gotland with Linda. She didn't believe him either. Martinsson poked his head round the door.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, it's good that you're here," Wallander said. "We should talk. Where's Hansson?"

"He's working on the cars."

"He should be here too," Wallander said. "But you'll have to fill him in later."

He gestured to Martinsson to close the door, then told them about his conversation with Sundelius, and his feeling that Svedberg might have been gay after all.

"Not that it matters one way or the other," he added. "Police officers are allowed to have whatever sexual orientation they like. The reason I'm not going public with this is that I don't want to start unnecessary rumours. Since Svedberg didn't talk about his sexuality while he was alive, I don't see the need for public speculation now that he's dead."

"It complicates this matter with Louise," Martinsson said.

"He may have been a man of many interests. But what is it that Sundelius knows? I had a strong feeling that he wasn't telling me everything. That means we have to dig deeper into both their lives. Are there other secrets? We have to do the same thing with these young people. Somewhere there's a point of intersection. A person who is a shadow to us right now, but who is there just the same."

"I have a vague recollection that someone lodged a complaint against Svedberg with the justice department's ombudsman a number of years ago," Martinsson said. "I forget what it was about."

"We should look into it, like everything else," Wallander said. "I thought we could divide these things up. I'll take Svedberg and Sundelius. I also have to talk to Björklund again, since he's the only one who knows anything about Louise."

"It's incomprehensible that no one's seen her," said Höglund.

"It's not just incomprehensible," Wallander said. "It's an impossibility. We just have to find out why."

"Haven't we gone a little easy on Björklund?" Martinsson asked. "After all, we found Svedberg's telescope at his house."

"He's innocent until proven guilty," Wallander said. "It's a hackneyed phrase, but there's some truth to it."

He got up. "Remember to tell Hansson about this," he said and left the room.

It was 5.30 p.m. and he hadn't eaten anything all day except the dry old biscuits in the canteen. The thought of going home and cooking a meal was too overwhelming. Instead he went down to the Chinese restaurant on the main square. He drank a beer while he was waiting. Then another. When the food came he ate too fast, as usual. He was about to order dessert when he stopped himself, and headed home. It was another warm evening and he opened the door to the balcony. He tried to call Linda three times, then gave up. Her phone was constantly busy. He was too tired to think. The TV was on, with the sound down. He lay down on the sofa and stared up at the ceiling. Shortly before 9 p.m. the phone rang. It was Lisa Holgersson.

"I think we have a problem," she said. "Thurnberg spoke to me after your argument."

Wallander grimaced, sensing what she was about to say. "Thurnberg was probably upset because I shouted at him. I made a lot of noise, thumped my fist on the table, that sort of thing."

"It's worse than that," she said. "He says you're not fit to be in charge of the investigation."

That came as a surprise. Wallander hadn't thought Thurnberg would go so far. He should have felt angry, but instead he was frightened. It was one thing to question your own abilities, but had it never occurred to him that someone else might do so.

"What were his reasons?"

"Mostly things to do with the running of the investigation. He's particularly concerned about the fact that he's been kept so poorly informed."

Wallander protested. What more could they have done?

"I'm just telling you what he said. He also thinks it was a serious lapse of judgment not to contact the police in Norrköping before you went up to Östergötland. He questions the validity of the trip itself, in fact."

"But what about the fact that I found Isa?"

"He thinks the police in Norrköping could have done that, while you were down here leading the team, and he seems to imply that she might have lived if this had been the case."

"That's absurd," Wallander said flatly. "I hope that's what you told him."

"There's one last thing," she said. "Your health."

"I'm not sick."

"Look, you fainted right in front of everyone. In the middle of a meeting."

"That could happen to anyone who is overworked."

"I'm telling you what he said."

"But what did you say to him?"

"That I would speak to you. And consider it."

Suddenly Wallander felt unsure of her opinion. Could he still assume she was on his side? His suspicion flared up in an instant, and it was strong.

"So now you've talked to me," he said. "What do you think?"

"What do you think?"

"That Thurnberg is an annoying little man who doesn't like me or any of the others. Which is mutual, by the way. I think he looks on his time here simply as a springboard to greater things."

"That's hardly an objective statement."

"But true. I believe I did the right thing in going up to Bärnsö Island. The investigation here continued just the same. There was no reason to notify the police in Norrköping because no crime had been committed, nor was there any reason to assume one would occur. On the contrary, there was every reason in the world to keep things quiet. Isa Edengren could easily have become even more frightened."

"Thurnberg understands all that," she said. "And I agree with you that he can seem very arrogant. What seems to worry him most is your health."

"I don't think he's worried about anyone but himself. The day I'm no longer up to leading the investigation I promise you'll be the first to know."

"I suppose Thurnberg will have to accept that as his answer for now. But it might be best if you kept him better informed from now on."

"It's going to be hard for me to trust him in the future," Wallander said. "I can stand a lot of things, but I hate it when people go behind my back."

"He hasn't gone behind your back. Telling me about his concerns was the right thing to do."

"No one can force me to like him."

"That's not what this is about. But I think he's going to react to any signs of weakness from now on."

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

The sudden flare of anger came from nowhere, and Wallander didn't manage to control it.

"You don't have to get upset. I'm just telling you what's happened."

"We have five murders to solve," Wallander said. "And a killer who's cold-blooded and well-organised. There are no apparent motives and we don't know if he's going to strike again. One of the victims was a close colleague. You have to assume people are going to get a little upset. This investigation isn't exactly a tea party."

She laughed. "I haven't heard that expression used before in this context."

"Just so you understand where I'm coming from," Wallander said. "That's all."

"I wanted to let you know about this as soon as possible."

"I know, I'm grateful that you did."

When the conversation was over, Wallander went back to the sofa. His suspicions still hadn't left him, and he was already plotting how he would get even with Thurnberg. Perhaps it was out of self-defence, perhaps self-pity. The thought of being relieved of his responsibilities frightened him. Being in charge of an investigation like this meant being under an almost unbearable strain, but the thought of humiliation was worse.

Wallander felt a great desire to talk to someone, anyone who could give him the kind of moral support he needed. It was 9.15 p.m. Who could he call? Martinsson or Höglund? Most of all he wanted to talk to Rydberg, but he lay in his grave and couldn't speak. He thought of Nyberg. They never really talked about private matters, but Wallander knew Nyberg would understand. His irascible and outspoken nature was an advantage in this situation. Above all, Wallander knew Nyberg respected his abilities. He doubted that Nyberg would be able to stand working under anyone else.

Wallander dialled Nyberg's home number. As usual he answered the phone in an irritable voice. Wallander often said to Martinsson that he'd never heard Nyberg sound friendly on the phone.