the square. He wasn't going to tackle his eating habits seriously today either.
At 12.45 he was back at the station. Since he had once again eaten too fast, he had an attack of diarrhoea and made for the men's room. When his stomach had settled somewhat, he handed the press release to one of the office clerks and then headed for Naslund's room.
'I can't get hold of Herdin,' said Naslund. 'He's on some kind of winter hike with a conservation group in Fyledalen.'
'Then I suppose we'll have to drive out there and look for him,' said Wallander.
'I thought I might as well do that, then you can check the safe-deposit boxes. If everything was so secret with this woman and their child, maybe there's something locked up there. We'll save time that way, I mean.'
Wallander nodded. Naslund was right. He was charging like a bull at a gate.
'OK, that's what we'll do,' he said. 'If we don't make it today we'll go up to Kristianstad tomorrow morning.'
Before he got into his car to drive down to the bank, he tried once more to get hold of Sten Widen. There was no answer this time either.He gave the number to Ebba at the reception desk.
'See if you can get an answer,' he said. 'Check whether this number is right. It's supposed to be in the name of Sten Widen. Or a racing stable with a name I don't know.'
'Hansson probably knows,' said Ebba.'I said racehorses, not trotters.''He bets on anything that moves,' said Ebba with a laugh.
'I'll be at the Union Bank if there's anything urgent,' said Wallander.
He parked across from the book shop on the square. The powerful wind almost blew the parking ticket out of his hand after he put the money in the machine. The town seemed abandoned. The winds were keeping people indoors.
He stopped at the electrical shop by the square. He was considering buying a video in an attempt to conquer the loneliness of his evenings. He looked at the prices and tried to work out whether he could afford to buy one this month. Or should he invest in a new stereo instead? After all, it was music he turned to when he lay tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
He tore himself away from the window and turned down the pedestrian street by the Chinese restaurant. The Union Bank was right next door. He walked in through the glass doors, finding only one customer inside the small lobby. A farmer with a hearing aid, complaining about interest rates in a high, shrill voice. To the left, an office door stood open. Inside a man sat studying a computer screen. Wallander assumed this was where he was supposed to go. As he appeared in the doorway, the man looked up quickly, as though he might be a bank robber. He walked into the room and introduced himself.
'We're not happy about this at all,' said the man. 'In all the years I've been at this bank we've never had any trouble with the police.'
Wallander was instantly annoyed by the man's attitude. Sweden had turned into a country where people seemed to be afraid of being bothered more than anything else. Nothing was more sacred than ingrained routine.
'It can't be helped,' said Wallander, handing over the documents that Anette Brolin had drawn up. The man read them carefully.
'Is this really necessary?' he asked. 'The whole point of a safe-deposit box is that it's protected from inspection.'
'Yes, it is necessary,' said Wallander. 'And I haven't got all day.'
With a sigh the man got up from his desk. Wallander could see that he had prepared himself for this visit. They passed through a barred doorway and entered the safe-deposit vault. Lovgren's box was at the bottom in one corner. Wallander unlocked it, pulled out the drawer, and put it on the table. He raised the lid and started going through the contents. There were some papers for burial arrangements and some title deeds to the farm in Lunnarp, some old photographs and a pale envelope with old stamps on it. That was all.Nothing, he thought. Nothing that I had hoped for.
The man stood to one side, watching him. Wallander wrote down the number of the title deed and the names on the burial documents. Then he closed the box.'Will that be all?'
'For the time being,' said Wallander. 'Now I'd like to take a look at the accounts that Lovgren had here at the bank.'
On the way out of the vault something occurred to him. 'Did anyone else besides Lovgren have access to his safe-deposit box?' he asked.'No,' replied the bank official.'Do you know whether he opened the box recendy?'
'I've checked the register,' was the reply. 'It has to be many years since he last opened the box.'
The farmer was still complaining when they returned to the lobby. He had started on a tirade about the declining price of grain.'I have all the information in my office,' said the man.
Wallander sat down by his desk and went through two sheets of print-outs. Johannes Lovgren had four different accounts. Maria Lovgren was a joint signatory on two of them. The total amount in these two accounts was 90,000 kronor. Neither of the accounts had been touched for a long time. In the past few days interest had been paid into the accounts. The third account was left over from Lovgren's days as a working farmer. The balance in that one was 132 kronor and 97 ore.
There was one more. Its balance was almost a million kronor. Maria Lovgren was not a signatory to it. On January 1, interest of more than 90,000 kronor had been paid into the account. On 4 January, Johannes Lovgren had withdrawn 27,000 kronor. Wallander looked up at the man sitting on the other side of the desk.
'How far back can you trace records for this account?' he asked.
'Theoretically, for ten years. But it'll take some time, of course. We'll have to run a computer search.'
'Start with last year. I'd like to see all activity in this account during 1989.'
The official rose and left the room. Wallander started studying the other document. It showed that Johannes Lovgren had almost 700,000 kronor in various mutual funds that the bank administered.So far Herdin's story seems to hold up, he thought.
He recalled the conversation with Nystrom, who had sworn that his neighbour didn't have any money. That's how much he knew about his neighbours.
After about 5 minutes the man came back from the lobby. He handed Wallander another print-out. On three occasions in 1989 Johannes Lovgren had taken out a total of 78,000 kronor. The withdrawals were made in January, July, and September.'May I keep these papers?' he asked.The man nodded.
'I'd very much like to speak with the clerk who paid out the money to Johannes Lovgren the last time,' he said.'Britta-Lena Boden,' said the man.
The woman who came into the office was quite young. Wallander thought she was hardly more than 20.'She knows what it's all about,' said the man.
Wallander nodded and introduced himself. 'Tell me what you know.'
'It was quite a lot of money,' said the young woman. 'Otherwise I wouldn't have remembered it.''Did he seem uneasy? Nervous?''Not that I recall.''How did he want the money?''In thousand-krona notes.'
'Only thousands?''He took a few five hundreds too.''What did he put the money in?'The young woman had a good memory.
'A brown briefcase. One of those old-fashioned ones with a strap around it.''Would you recognise it if you saw it again?''Maybe. The handle was tatty.''What do you mean by tatty?''The leather was cracked.'
Wallander nodded. The woman's memory was excellent. 'Do you remember anything else?' 'After he got the money, he left.' 'And he was alone?' 'Yes.'
'You didn't see whether anyone was waiting for him outside?''I wouldn't be able to see that from the counter.''Do you remember what time it was?'
The woman thought before she replied. 'I went to lunch straight afterwards. It was around midday.'
