'We've come to ask you some questions,' said Wallander. 'My name is Kurt Wallander, and this is Goran Boman from the Kristianstad police.'
'How exciting to have a visit from the police,' said the woman, still smiling. 'Nothing unusual ever happens here in Gladsax.'
'We just wanted to ask you whether you know a man named Johannes Lovgren,' said Wallander. She gave him a look of surprise. 'Johannes Lovgren? No. Who's he?' 'Are you sure?' 'Of course I'm sure!''He was murdered a few days ago along with his wife, in a village called Lunnarp. Maybe you read about it in the newspapers.' Her surprise looked genuine.
'I don't understand,' she said. 'I remember seeing something about it in the paper. But what does this have to do with me?'
Nothing, thought Wallander and glanced at Boman, who seemed to share his opinion. What could this woman have to do with Johannes Lovgren?
'In 1951 you had a son in Kristianstad,' said Boman. 'On all the documents in various records you listed the father as unknown. Is it possible that a man by the name of Johannes Lovgren might have been this unknown father?'She gazed at them for a long time before she answered.
'I don't understand why you're asking these questions,' she said. 'And I understand even less what this has to do with that murdered farmer. But if it's any help, I can tell you that Stefan's father was named Rune Stierna. He was married to someone else. I knew what I was getting into, and I chose to thank him for the child by keeping his identity secret. He died twelve years ago. And Stefan got along well with his father throughout his childhood.'
'I know that these questions must seem strange,' said Wallander. 'But sometimes we have to ask odd questions.'
They asked a few more questions and took some notes. Then it was over.
'I hope you will excuse us for disturbing you,' said Wallander, as he got to his feet.'Do you think I'm telling the truth?' she asked.
'Yes,' said Wallander. 'We think you're telling the truth. But if you're not, we'll find out. Sooner or later.'She burst out laughing. 'I'm telling the truth,' she said.
'I'm not a very good liar. But feel free to come back if you have more strange questions.'They left the house and went back to the car.'Well, that's that,' said Boman.
'She's not the one,' said Wallander.'Do we need to talk to the son in Ahus?'
'I think we can skip him. For the time being, at any rate.'
They got into Wallander's car and drove straight back to Kristianstad. The rain had stopped falling and the sky had begun to clear by the time they reached the hills around Brosarp. Outside the police station in Kristianstad they switched to a police car and continued.
'Margareta Velander,' said Boman, 'is 49, and owns a beauty shop called 'The Wave' on Krokarpsgatan. Three children, divorced, remarried, divorced again. Lives in a terrace house out towards Blekinge. Gave birth to a son in December 1958. The son's name is Nils. Evidently quite an entrepreneur. Used to go around to markets and sell imported knick-knacks. Also listed as the owner of a company dealing in women's novelty underwear. Lives in Solvesborg, of all places. Who the hell would buy women's novelty underwear sold by a mail order company from a town like that?''Plenty of people,' said Wallander.
'Once did time for assault and battery,' Boman continued. 'I haven't seen the report. But he got one year. That means the assault must have been pretty serious.'
'I want to see that report,' said Wallander. 'Where did it happen?'
'He was sentenced by the Kalmar district court. They're looking for the paperwork on the case.' 'When did it happen?'
'In 1981, I think.'
Wallander sat and thought while Boman drove through the town.
'So she was only 17 when the boy was born. And if we're taking Lovgren to be the father, there was a big age difference.''I've thought of that. But that could mean a lot of things.'
The beauty salon was in the basement of a block of flats on the outskirts of Kristianstad.
'Maybe I should come here,' said Boman. 'Who cuts your hair, by the way?'
Wallander was just about to say that Mona took care of that.'It varies,' he replied evasively.
There were three chairs in the salon. Each was occupied. Two women were sitting under hair dryers while a third was having her hair washed. The woman who was washing the customer's hair looked up at them in surprise.
'I only work by appointment,' she said. 'I'm booked up today. And tomorrow too if you want to make an appointment for your wives.''Margareta Velander?' asked Goran Boman.He showed her his identity card.'We'd like to talk to you,' he said.Wallander could see that she was frightened.'I can't leave right now,' she said.'We'd be happy to wait,' said Boman.
'You can wait in the back room,' said Margareta Velander. 'I won't be long.'
It was a very small room. A table covered with oilcloth and a couple of chairs took up practically all the space. Between some coffee cups and a grimy coffee maker on a shelf there was a stack of tabloid newspapers. Wallander studied a black-and-white photograph pinned to the wall. It was a blurred and faded image of a young man in a sailor's uniform. Wallander could read the word
Margareta Velander came into the room. She was drying her hands on a towel.'I've got a few minutes now,' she said. 'What's it about?'
'We wonder whether you know a man named Johannes Lovgren,' began Wallander.'Is that so?' she said. 'Would you like some coffee?'
They both declined, and Wallander was annoyed that she had turned her back to him when he asked the question.
'Johannes Lovgren,' he repeated. 'A farmer from a village outside of Ystad. Did you know him?'
'The man who was murdered?' she asked, looking him straight in the eye.
'Yes,' he said. 'The man who was murdered. That's the one.'
'No,' she replied, pouring coffee into a plastic cup. 'Why should I know him?'
The police officers exchanged glances. There was something about her voice that suggested she felt pressured.
'In December 1958 you gave birth to a son who was christened Nils,' said Wallander. 'You listed the father as unknown.'
The instant he mentioned the name of her son, she started to cry. The coffee cup tipped over and fell to the floor.'What has he done?' she asked. 'What has he done now?' They waited until she had calmed down.
'We're not here to bring you bad news,' Wallander assured her. 'But we'd like to know whether Johannes Lovgren was Nils's father.''No.'
Her answer was not convincing. 'Then we'd like you to tell us the name of his father.' 'Why do you want to know?' 'It's important for our investigation.' 'I've told you that I don't know anybody named Johannes Lovgren.' 'What's the name of Nils's father?' 'I can't tell you.'
'It won't go any further than this room.' She paused a little too long before she answered. 'I don't know who Nils's father was.' 'Women usually know.'
'I was sleeping with more than one man at the time. I don't know who it was. That's why I listed the father as unknown.'She stood up quickly.
'I've got to get back to work,' she said. 'The old ladies are going to be boiled alive under those dryers.' 'We can wait.'
