In the middle of March he managed to entice Anette Brolin to go to Copenhagen with him to see an opera. They had spent the night together. But when he told her that he loved her, she shied away. It was what it was. Nothing more.
On the weekend of 17 and 18 March, his daughter came to visit. She came alone, without the Kenyan medical student, and Wallander met her at the railway station. Ebba had sent a friend of hers over the day before to give his flat in Mariagatan a good clean.
Finally he felt that he had his daughter back. They took a long walk along the beach by Osterleden, ate lunch at Lilla Vik, and then stayed up talking till 5 a.m. They visited Wallander's father, and he surprised them both by telling funny stories about Kurt as a child. On Monday morning he took her to the train. He seemed to have regained her trust a little.
He was back in his office, poring over the investigative material, when Rydberg came in. He sat down in the wooden chair by the window and told Wallander straight out that he had been diagnosed with prostate cancer. Now he was going in for radiation treatment and chemotherapy, which could last for a long time and might not do any good. He wouldn't allow sympathy. He had merely come to remind Wallander about Maria Lovgren's last words. And the noose. Then he stood up, shook Wallander's hand, and left.
Wallander was left alone with his pain and his investigation. Bjork thought that for the time being he ought to work alone, since the police were swamped.
Nothing happened in March. Or in April either. The reports on the status of Rydberg's health varied. Ebba was the unflagging messenger.
Early in May, Wallander went into Bjork's office and suggested that someone else take over the investigation. But Bjork refused. Wallander would have to continue at least until the summer holiday period was over. Then they would re-evaluate the situation.
Time after time Wallander started again. Retraced, prying and twisting at the material, trying to make it come alive. But the stones he was walking on remained cold.
At the beginning of June he traded in his Peugeot for a Nissan. On 8 June he went on holiday and drove up to Stockholm to see his daughter. Together they drove all the way to the North Cape. Herman Mboya was in Kenya but would be coming back in August.
On Monday, 9 July, Wallander was back on duty. A memo from Bjork informed him that he was to continue with his investigation until Bjork returned in early August. Then they would decide what to do.
He also received a message from Ebba that Rydberg was much better. The doctors might be able to control the cancer after all.
Tuesday, 10 July was a beautiful day in Ystad. At lunch-time Wallander went downtown and strolled around. He went into the electrical shop by the square and decided to buy a new stereo.
He remembered that he had some Norwegian notes in his wallet that he had forgotten to exchange. He had been carrying them around since the trip to the North Cape. He went down to the Union Bank and stood in line for the only window that was open.
He didn't recognise the woman behind the counter. It wasn't Britta-Lena Bod?n, the young woman with the good memory, or any of the other clerks he had met before. It must be a summer temp, he thought.
The man in front of him in line made a large withdrawal. Wallander wondered idly what he was going to use such a large amount of money for. While the man counted up the cash, Wallander absentmindedly read the name on the driver's licence that he had placed on the counter.
Then it was his turn, and he exchanged his Norwegian money. Behind him in the line he heard a tourist speaking Italian or Spanish.
As he emerged onto the street, an idea hit him. He stood there motionless, as if he were frozen solid by his inspiration. Then he went back inside the bank. He waited until the tourists had exchanged their money, and showed his identity card to the clerk.'Britta-Lena Boden,' he said, smiling. 'Is she on holiday?'
'She's probably with her parents in Simrishamn,' said the teller. 'She has two weeks of holiday left.''Boden,' he said. 'Is that her parents' name too?'
'Her father runs a petrol station in Simrishamn. I think it's the one called Statoil nowadays.'
'Thank you,' said Wallander. 'I just have some routine questions to ask her.'
'I remember you,' said the clerk. 'So you haven't been able to solve that awful crime yet?''No,' said Wallander. 'It's terrible, isn't it?'
He practically ran back to the station, jumped into his car, and drove to Simrishamn. From Britta-Lena Boden's father he learned that she was spending the day with friends at the beach at Sandhammaren. He searched a long time before he found her, well-hidden behind a sand dune. She was playing backgammon with her friends, and all of them gave Wallander an astonished look as he came trudging through the sand.
'I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't important,' he said.
Britta-Lena Boden seemed to grasp his serious mood and got up. She was dressed in a minuscule bathing suit, and Wallander averted his eyes. They sat down a little way from the others, so they wouldn't be disturbed.
'That day in January,' said Wallander. 'I want to ask you about it again. I'd like you to think back, and try to remember whether there was anyone else in the bank when Johannes Lovgren made his large withdrawal.'Her memory was still excellent.'No,' she said. 'He was alone.'He knew that what she said was true.
'Keep going,' he continued. 'Lovgren went out the door. The door closed behind him. What happened then?'Her reply was quick and firm. 'The door didn't close.''Another customer came in?''Two of them.''Did you know them?''No.'The next question was crucial.'Because they were foreigners?'She looked at him in astonishment.'Yes. How did you know?''I didn't until now. Keep thinking.''There were two men. Quite young.''What did they want?''They wanted to change some money.''Do you remember what currency?''Dollars.''Did they speak English? Were they Americans?'
She shook her head. 'Not English. I don't know what language they were speaking.''Then what happened? Try to picture it in your mind.' 'They came up to the counter.' 'Both of them?'
She thought carefully before she answered. The warm wind was ruffling her hair.
'One of them came up and put the money on the counter. I think it was 100 dollars. I asked him if he wanted to change it. He nodded.''What was the other man doing?'She thought again.
'He dropped something on the floor, which he bent over and picked up. A glove, I think.'He went back a step with his questions.
'Johannes Lovgren had just left,' he said. 'He had received a large amount of cash which he put into his briefcase. Did he receive anything else?''He got a receipt for his money.''Which he put in the briefcase?'For the first time she was hesitant.'I think so.'
'If he didn't put the receipt in his briefcase, then what happened to it?' She thought again.
'There was nothing lying on the counter. I'm sure of that. Otherwise I would have picked it up.' 'Could it have slipped onto the floor?' 'Possibly.'
'And the man who bent over for the glove could have picked it up?' 'Perhaps.''What was on the receipt?
'The amount. His name and address.'Wallander held his breath.'All that was on it? Are you sure?'
'He filled out his withdrawal slip in big letters. I know that he wrote down his address too, even though it wasn't required.'
Wallander went back again. 'Lovgren takes his money and leaves. In the doorway he runs into two unknown men. One of them bends down and picks up a glove, and maybe the withdrawal slip too. It says that Johannes Lovgren has just withdrawn 27,000 kronor. Is that correct?'Suddenly she understood. 'Are they the ones that did it?''I don't know. Think back again.'
'I exchanged the money. He put the notes in his pocket. They left.''How long did it take?''Three, four