'Is there anything that encourages you to believe that it wasn't a robbery?' 'No.'
Wallander could feel that he was sweating in the overheated room. He remembered how as a young policeman he had dreamt of holding press conferences. But they had never been stuffy and sweaty in his dreams.
'I asked a question,' he heard one of the reporters say from the back of the room.'I didn't hear it,' said Wallander.
'Do the police regard this as an important crime?' asked the reporter.Wallander was surprised at the question.
'Naturally it's important that we solve this murder,' he said. 'Why shouldn't it be?''Will you be needing extra resources?'
'It's too early to comment on that. Of course we're hoping for a quick solution. I don't understand your question.'
A very young reporter with the thick glasses pushed his way forwards. Wallander had never seen him before.
'In my opinion, no-one in Sweden cares about the elderly these days.'
He stood up. 'We'll let you know when we have more to report,' he said. 'Thank you for coming.'
The young woman from the local radio station blocked his path as he was leaving the room.'I have nothing more to say,' he told her.'I know your daughter Linda,' she said.Wallander stopped. 'You do? How?''We've met a few times. Here and there.'
Wallander tried to think whether he knew her. Had the girls been classmates?She shook her head as if reading his mind.
'You and I have never met,' she said. 'You don't know me. Linda and I ran into each other in Malmo.''I see,' said Wallander. 'That's nice.''I think she's great. Could I ask you some questions now?'
Wallander repeated into her microphone what he had said earlier. Most of all he wanted to talk about Linda, but he didn't have a chance.
'Say hello to her,' she said, packing up her tape recorder. 'Say hello from Cathrin. Or Cattis.''I will,' said Wallander. 'I promise.'
When he went back to his office he could feel a gnawing in his stomach. But was it hunger or anxiety? I've got to stop this, he thought. I've got to accept that my wife has left me. I've got to admit that all I can do is wait for Linda to contact me herself. I've got to take life as it comes ...
Just before 6 p.m. the investigative team gathered for another meeting. There was no news from the hospital. Wallander quickly drew up a roster for the night.
'Is that necessary?' wondered Hansson. 'Just put a tape recorder in the room, then any nurse can turn it on if the old lady wakes up.'
'It is necessary,' said Wallander. 'I can take midnight to six myself. Any volunteers until midnight?'
Rydberg nodded. 'I can sit at the hospital just as well as anywhere,' he said.
Wallander looked around. Everyone seemed pale in the glare from the fluorescent lights.'Did we get anywhere?' he asked.
'We've checked out Lunnarp,' said Peters, who had led the door-to-door inquiry. 'Everybody says they didn't see a thing. But it usually takes a few days before people really think. People are pretty scared up there. It's damned unpleasant. Almost everyone is old. Except for a terrified young Polish family, who are probably here illegally. But I didn't bother them. We'll have to keep trying tomorrow.'Wallander nodded and looked at Rydberg.
'There were plenty of fingerprints at the scene,' he said. 'Maybe that will produce something. But I doubt it. It's mostly the knot that interests me.'Wallander gave him a searching look. 'What knot?''The knot on the noose.''What about it?''It's unusual. I've never seen a knot like it.'
'Have you ever seen a noose before?' interrupted Hansson, who was standing in the doorway, itching to leave.
'Yes, I have,' replied Rydberg. 'We'll see what this knot can tell us.'
Wallander knew that Rydberg didn't want to say more. But if the knot interested him, it might be important.
'I'm driving back out to see the neighbours tomorrow morning,' said Wallander. 'Has anyone tracked down the Lovgrens' children yet, by the way?''Martinsson is working on it,' said Hansson.
'I thought Martinsson was at the hospital,' said Wallander, surprised.'He traded with Svedberg.''So where the hell is he now?'
No-one knew where Martinsson was. Wallander called the switchboard and found out that he had left an hour earlier.'Call him at home,' said Wallander. Then he looked at his watch.
'We'll meet again in the morning at ten o'clock,' he said. 'Thanks for coming, see you then.'
Everyone else had left by the time the switchboard connected him with Martinsson.
'Sorry,' said Martinsson. 'I forgot we had a meeting.''How are you getting on with the children?''Damned if Rickard doesn't have chicken pox.''I mean the Lovgrens' children. The two daughters.'
Martinsson sounded surprised when he answered. 'Didn't you get my message?''I didn't get any message.''I gave it to one of the girls at the switchboard.''I'll take a look. But tell me first.'
'One daughter, who's 50, lives in Canada. Winnipeg, wherever that is. I completely forgot that it was the middle of the night over there when I called. She refused to believe what I was saying. It didn't sink in until her husband came to the phone. He's a policeman, by the way. A genuine
Canadian Mountie. I'm going to call them back tomorrow. But she's flying over, of course. The other daughter was harder to reach, even though she lives in Sweden. She's 47, the manager of the buffet at the Ruby Hotel in Goteborg. Evidently she's away coaching a handball team in Skien, in Norway. But they promised that they'd get word to her. I gave the switchboard a list of the Lovgrens' other relatives. There are lots of them. Most of them live in Skane. Some of them will probably call tomorrow when they see the story in the papers.'
'Good work,' said Wallander. 'Can you relieve me at the hospital tomorrow morning at six? If she doesn't die by then.'
'I'll be there,' said Martinsson. 'But is it such a good idea for you to take that shift?' 'Why not?'
'You're the one heading the investigation. You ought to get some sleep.'
'I can handle it for one night,' replied Wallander and hung up.
He sat completely still and stared into space. Are we going to get to the bottom of this? he thought. Or do they already have too much of a head start? He put on his overcoat, turned off the desk lamp, and left his office. The corridor leading to the reception area was deserted. He stuck his head in the glass cubicle where the operator on duty sat leafing through a magazine. He noticed that it was a form guide. Was everyone playing the horses these days?
'Martinsson should have left some papers for me,' he said.
The operator, who was named Ebba and had been with the police department for more than 30 years, gave a friendly nod and pointed at the counter.
'We have a girl here from the youth employment bureau,' she said, smiling. 'Sweet and nice but completely incompetent. Maybe she forgot to give them to you.'
Wallander nodded. 'I'm leaving now,' he said. 'I'll probably be home in a couple of hours. If anything happens before then, call me at my father's place.''You're thinking of poor Mrs Lovgren,' said Ebba.Wallander nodded.'It's terrible.'
