“No,” she said. “If he was that fat, I’d have remembered the guy. I’m dieting myself, you see. So I look at people.”
“Have you been away at all lately?”
“No.”
“Not even for an hour?”
“Well, I sometimes have to go out an errand.”
“Who does the check-out then?”
“Sven.”
Svedberg could feel any hope he had ebbing away. He thanked her for her assistance and wandered around the shop while waiting for the part-timer. As he did so, his mind was working overtime, trying to figure what to do if the lead given by the inscription on the cigarette lighter went nowhere. Where could he find another starting point?
The girl who worked Saturdays was young, barely more than seventeen. She was strikingly corpulent, and Svedberg dreaded having to talk with her about fat people. The manager introduced her as Annika Hagstrom. Svedberg was unsure how to start. The manager had withdrawn discreetly. They were standing by some shelves stacked high with food for dogs and cats.
“I gather you work here on Saturdays,” Svedberg began hesitantly.
“I’m out of work,” said Annika Hagstrom. “There aren’t any jobs. Sitting here on Saturdays is all I do.”
“It can be pretty bad just now,” said Svedberg, trying to sound understanding.
“Actually, I’ve wondered about becoming a cop,” said the girl.
Svedberg stared at her in astonishment.
“But I’m not sure I’m the type to wear a uniform,” she went on. “Why aren’t you wearing a uniform?”
“We don’t always have to,” said Svedberg.
“Maybe I’ll think again, then,” said the girl. “Anyway, what have I done?”
“Nothing,” said Svedberg. “I just wanted to ask if you’d seen a male personage in this shop who looked a little unusual.”
He groaned inwardly at his clumsy way of putting it.
“What do you mean, unusual?”
“A guy who is very fat, and speaks bad Swedish.”
“Oh, him,” she said immediately.
Svedberg stared at her.
“He was here last Saturday,” she continued.
Svedberg took a notebook out of his pocket.
“When?” he asked.
“Shortly after nine.”
“Was he alone?”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember what he bought?”
“Quite a lot. Several packets of tea, among other things. He filled four bags.”
That’s him, thought Svedberg. Russians drink tea like we drink coffee.
“How did he pay?”
“He was carrying money loose in his pocket.”
“How did he seem? Was he nervous? Or what?”
Her answers were all immediate and specific.
“He was in a hurry. He practically stuffed the food into the bags.”
“Did he say anything?”
“No.”
“How do you know he had a foreign accent, then?”
“He said hello and thank you. You could tell right away.”
Svedberg nodded. He had just one more question.
“You don’t happen to know where he lives, I suppose?” he wondered.
She furrowed her brow and thought hard.
Surely she can’t have an answer for that one as well, Svedberg thought quickly.
“He lives somewhere in the direction of the quarry,” she said.
“Quarry?”
“Do you know where the college is?”
Svedberg nodded. He knew.
“Drive past there then take a left,” she said. “Then left again.”
“How do you know he lives there?”
“Then next in line was an old guy called Holgerson,” she said. “He always gossips when he pays. He said he’d never seen a guy as fat as that before. Then he said he’d seen him outside a house down by the quarry. There are quite a few empty houses there. Holgerson knows about everything that happens in Tomelilla.”
Svedberg put his notebook away. He was in a hurry now.
“I’ll tell you something.” he said. “I guess you really should become a cop.”
“What did he do?” she asked.
“Nothing,” said Svedberg. “If he comes back it’s very important you don’t say somebody’s been asking about him. Least of all a cop.”
“I won’t say a word,” she said. “Would it be possible to come and see you at the police station some time?”
“Just call and ask for me,” said Svedberg. “Ask for Svedberg. That’s me. I’ll show you around.”
Her face lit up.
“I’ll do that,” she said.
“Not just now, though,” said Svedberg. “Wait a few weeks. We’re pretty busy right now.”
He left the store and followed the directions she had given him. When he came to an exit leading to the quarry, he stopped the car and got out. He had a pair of binoculars in the glove compartment. He walked to the quarry and climbed up onto an abandoned stone crusher.
There were two houses on the other side of the quarry, a fair distance apart. One of them was rather decrepit, but the other seemed to be in better condition. He could see no cars parked in the courtyard, and the house looked deserted. Even so, he had the feeling that this was the place. It was remote. There was no road nearby. Nobody would take that dead-end track unless they had business at the house.
He waited, binoculars ready. It started drizzling.
After nearly half an hour, the door suddenly opened. A woman stepped out. Tania, he thought. She stood quite still, smoking. Svedberg could not see her face because she was half-hidden by a tree.
He dropped his binoculars. It must be the place, he thought. The girl in the store had her eyes and ears about her, and a good memory as well. He climbed down from the stone crusher and went back to his car. It was already after ten. He decided to call the police station and report sick. He had no time to sit around in meetings.
Now he must talk to Wallander.
Tania threw down her cigarette and stubbed it out with her heel. She was standing out in the courtyard, in the drizzle. The weather was in tune with her mood. Konovalenko had withdrawn with the new African, and she had no interest in whatever they were talking about. Vladimir had kept her informed while he was alive. She knew some important politician in South Africa was going to be killed. But she had no idea who or why. No doubt Vladimir had told her, but she had forgotten.
She went out into the yard in order to have a few minutes to herself. She still had barely had time to work out the implications of Vladimir’s death. She was also surprised by the sorrow and pain she felt. Their marriage had never been more than a practical arrangement that suited them both. When they fled the collapsing Soviet Union, they were able to give each other some support. Afterwards, when they came to Sweden, she gave her life some purpose by helping Vladimir with his various undertakings. All that changed when Konovalenko suddenly turned up. At first Tania was quite attracted to him. His decisive manner, his self-confidence stood in sharp contrast to Vladimir’s personality, and she did not hesitate when Konovalenko started to take a serious interest in her. It did
