off. By the way, how much do you think Swedish Television pays policemen for leaks?'
'Probably far too much,' said Rydberg. 'That's why they don't have money for any good programmes.'He got up from his chair.
'Don't forget one thing,' he said as he stood with his hand on the doorframe. 'A policeman who snitches can snitch again.''What does that mean?'
'He can insist that one of our leads does point to foreigners. It's true, after all.'
'It's not even a lead,' said Wallander. 'It's the last confused words of a dying woman.' Rydberg shrugged.'Do as you like,' he said. 'See you in a while.'
The case meeting went as badly as it could have. Wallander had decided to start with the leak and its possible consequences. He would describe the anonymous call he had received and then invite suggestions on a plan of action before the deadline. But when he announced angrily that there was someone at the meeting disloyal enough to betray confidential information, possibly for money, he was met by equally furious protests. Several officers said that the leak could have come from the hospital. Hadn't doctors and nurses been present when the old woman uttered those last words?
Wallander tried to refute their objections, but they kept protesting. By the time he finally managed to steer the discussion to the investigation itself, a sullen mood had settled over the meeting. Yesterday's optimism had been replaced by a slack, uninspired atmosphere. Wallander had got off on the wrong foot.
The effort to identify the car with which the lorry driver had almost collided had yielded no results. An additional man was assigned to concentrate on this.
The investigation of Lars Herdin's past was continuing. On the first check nothing remarkable had come to light. He had no police record and no conspicuous debts.
'We're going to run a vacuum cleaner over this man,' said Wallander. 'We have to know everything there is to know. I'm going to meet the prosecutor in a few minutes. I'll ask for authorisation to go into the bank.'Peters delivered the biggest news of the day.'Lovgren had two safe-deposit boxes,' he said. 'One at the Union Bank and one at the Merchants' Bank. I went through the keys on his key ring.'
'Good,' said Wallander. 'We'll check them out later today.'
The charting of Lovgren's family, friends and relatives would go on.
It was decided that Rydberg should take care of the daughter who lived in Canada, who would be arriving at the hovercraft terminal in Malmo just after 3 p.m.
'Where's the other one?' asked Wallander. 'The handball player?'
'She's already arrived,' said Svedberg. 'She's staying with relatives.'
'You go and talk to her,' said Wallander. 'Do we have any other tip-offs that might produce something? Ask the daughters if either of them was given a wall clock, by the way.
Martinsson had sifted through the tip-offs. Everything that the police learnt was fed into a computer. Then he did a rough sort. The most ridiculous ones never got beyond the print-outs.
'Hulda Yngveson phoned from Vallby and said that it was the disapproving hand of God that dealt the blow,' said Martinsson.
'She always calls,' sighed Rydberg. 'If a calf runs off, it's because God is displeased.''I put her on the C.F. list,' said Martinsson.
The sullen atmosphere was broken by a little amusement when Martinsson explained that C.F. stood for 'crazy fools'.
They had received no tip-offs of immediate interest. But every one would be checked. Finally there was the question of Johannes Lovgren's secret relationship in
Kristianstad and the child that they had together.
Wallander looked around the room. Thomas Naslund, a 30-year veteran who seldom called attention to himself but who did solid, thorough work, was sitting in a corner, pulling on his lower lip as he listened.
'You can come with me,' said Wallander. 'See if you can do a little footwork first. Ring Herdin and pump him for everything you can about this woman in Kristianstad. And the child too, of course.'
The press conference was fixed for 4 p.m. By then Wallander and Naslund hoped to be back from Kristianstad. Rydberg had agreed to preside if they were late.
'I'll write the press release,' said Wallander. 'If no-one has anything more, we'll adjourn.'
It was 11.25 a.m. when he knocked on Per Akeson's door in another part of the police building. The woman who opened the door was very striking and very young. Wallander stared at her.
'Seen enough yet?' she said. 'You're half an hour late, by the way.''I told you the meeting might run over,' he replied.
He hardly recognised the office. Per Akeson's spartan, colourless space had been transformed into a room with pretty curtains and potted plants round the walls.
He followed her with his eyes as she sat down behind her desk. She couldn't be more than 30. She was wearing a rust-brown suit that he was sure was of good quality and no doubt quite expensive.
'Have a seat,' she said. 'Maybe we ought to shake hands, by the way. I'll be filling in for Akeson all the time he's away. So we'll be working together for quite a while.'
He put out his hand and noticed at the same time that she was wearing a wedding ring. To his surprise, he realised that he felt disappointed. She had dark brown hair, cut short and framing her face. A lock of bleached hair curled down beside one ear.
'I'd like welcome you to Ystad,' he said. 'I have to admit that I quite forgot that Per was on leave.''I assume we'll be using our first names. Mine is Anette.''Kurt. How do you like Ystad?'
She shook off the question brusquely. 'I don't really know yet. Stockholmers no doubt have a hard time getting used to the leisurely pace of Skane.''Leisurely?''You're half an hour late.'
Wallander could feel himself getting angry. Was she provoking him? Didn't she understand that a case meeting might run over? Did she regard all Scanians as leisurely?
'I don't think Scanians are any lazier than anyone else,' he said. 'All Stockholmers aren't stuck-up, are they?''I beg your pardon?''Forget it.'
She leaned back in her chair. He was having difficulty looking her in the eye.
'Perhaps you would give me a summary of the case,' she said.
Wallander tried to make his report as concise as possible. He could tell that, without intending to, he had wound up in a defensive position. He avoided mentioning the leak in the police department. She asked a few brief questions, which he answered. He could see that despite her youth she did have professional experience.
'We have to take a look at Lovgren's bank statements,' he said. 'He also has two safe-deposit boxes we want to open.'She wrote out the documents he needed.
'Shouldn't a judge look at this?' asked Wallander as she pushed them over to him.
'We'll do that later,' she said. 'And I'd appreciate receiving copies of all the investigative material.'He nodded and got up to leave.
'This article in the papers,' she inquired. 'About foreigners who may have been involved?''Rumour,' replied Wallander. 'You know how it is.'
'I do?' she asked.
When he left her office he noticed that he was sweating. What a babe, he thought. How the hell can someone like that become a prosecutor? Devote her life to catching small-time crooks and keeping the streets clean?
He stopped in the reception area of the station, unable to decide what to do next. Eat, he decided. If I don't get some food now, I never will. I can write the press release over lunch.
When he walked out of the police station he was almost blown over. The storm had not died down.
He ought to drive home and make himself a simple salad. Despite the fact that he had hardly had a thing all day, his stomach felt heavy and bloated. But instead he allowed himself to be tempted by the Hornpiper down by
