'I shall decide if the question is relevant or not,' he said. 'Farnholm Castle is a private property and you have a legal right to surround it with as many fences as you like, as high as you like. Provided you have planning permission and are not contravening any laws or regulations. You also have the right to deny entry to whoever you like. With one exception: the police. Is that understood?'
'We haven't denied you entry, Mr Wallander,' she said, still without batting an eyelid.
'Let me express myself more clearly,' Wallander said, noting that the woman's indifference was making him feel insecure. Perhaps he was also distracted by the fact that she was strikingly beautiful.
Just as he opened his mouth to continue, a door opened and a woman came in with a tray. To his surprise Wallander saw that she was black. Without saying a word she put the tray down on the desk, then disappeared again just as noiselessly as she'd appeared.
'Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr Wallander?'
He said he would. She poured and then handed him the cup and saucer. He examined the china.
'Let me ask you a question that's relevant,' he said. 'What will happen if I drop this cup on the floor? How much will I owe you?'
For the first time her smile seemed genuine.
'Everything's insured, of course,' she said. 'But that's a classic Rorstrand special edition.'
Wallander put the cup and saucer gingerly down by the side of the printout on the oak parquet floor, and started again.
'I'll express myself very precisely,' he said. 'That same evening, October 11, barely an hour after Mr Torstensson had been here, he died in a car accident.'
'We sent flowers to the funeral,' she said. 'One of my colleagues attended the service.'
'But not Alfred Harderberg, of course?'
'My employer avoids appearing in public whenever possible.'
'I've gathered that,' Wallander said. 'But the fact is that we've reason to believe this wasn't in fact a car accident. Many things suggest Mr Torstensson was murdered. And to make matters worse, his son was shot dead in his office a few weeks later. Perhaps you sent flowers to his funeral as well?'
She stared at him uncomprehendingly.
'We only dealt with Gustaf Torstensson,' she said.
Wallander nodded, and went on: 'Now you know why I've come. And you still haven't told me how many secretaries there are working here.'
'And you haven't understood that it depends on how you look at it, Inspector Wallander,' she said.
'I'm all ears.'
'Here at Farnholm Castle there are three secretaries,' she said. 'Then there are two more who accompany him on his travels. In addition Dr Harderberg has secretaries stationed in various places around the world. The number can vary, but it's rarely fewer than six.'
'I make it eleven,' Wallander said.
She agreed.
'You referred to your employer as Dr Harderberg,' Wallander said.
'He has several honorary doctorates,' she said. 'You can have a list if you'd like one.'
'Yes, I would,' Wallander said. 'I also want an overview of Dr Harderberg's business empire. But you can let me have that later. What I want now is to know what happened that evening when Gustaf Torstensson was here for the last time. Which one of all those secretaries can tell me that?'
'I was on duty that evening.'
Wallander thought for a moment. 'That's why you're here,' he said. 'That's why you are receiving me. But what would have happened if this had been your day off? You couldn't know the police were going to come this day of all days.'
'Of course not.'
Even as he spoke Wallander realised he was wrong. And he also realised how it would be possible for people at Farnholm Castle to know. The thought worried him. He had to force himself to concentrate before continuing.
'What happened that evening?' he asked.
'Mr Torstensson arrived shortly after 7 p.m. He had a private conversation with Dr Harderberg and some of his closest colleagues, lasting an hour. Then he had a cup of tea. He left Farnholm at exactly 8.14.'
'What did they talk about that evening?'
'I can't answer that.'
'But you said a moment ago that you were on duty.'
'It was a conversation with no secretary present. No notes were taken.'
'Who were the colleagues?'
'I beg your pardon?'
'You said Mr Torstensson had a private conversation with Dr Harderberg and some of his closest colleagues.'
'I can't answer that.'
'Because you're not allowed to?'
'Because I don't know.'
'Don't know what?'
'Who those colleagues were. I'd never seen them before. They had arrived that day and they left the following day.'
Wallander didn't know what to ask next. It seemed as if all the answers he was getting were peripheral. He decided to approach matters from a different angle.
'You said a moment ago that Dr Harderberg has eleven secretaries. Might I ask how many solicitors he has?'
'Presumably at least as many.'
'But you're not allowed to say exactly how many?'
'I don't know.'
Wallander nodded. He could see he was entering another cul-de-sac.
'How long had Mr Torstensson been working for Dr Harderberg?'
'Ever since he bought Farnholm Castle and made it his headquarters. About five years ago.'
'Mr Torstensson worked as a solicitor in Ystad all his life,' said Wallander. 'All of a sudden he's considered to be qualified to advise on international business matters. Doesn't that seem a little remarkable?'
'That's something you'll have to ask Dr Harderberg.'
Wallander closed his notebook. 'Absolutely right,' he said. 'I'd like you to send him a message, whether he's in Geneva or Dubai or wherever, and inform him that Inspector Wallander wants to talk to him as soon as possible. The day he gets back here, in other words.'
He stood up and gingerly placed the cup and saucer on the desk.
'The Ystad police don't have eleven secretaries,' he said, 'but our receptionists are pretty efficient. You can leave a message with them saying when he can see me.
He followed her out into the hall. Next to the front door, lying on a marble table, was a thick leather-bound file.
'Here's the overview of Dr Harderberg's business affairs you asked for,' Anita Karlen said.
Somebody's been listening in, Wallander thought. Somebody's overheard the whole of our conversation. Presumably a transcript is already on its way to Harderberg, wherever he is. In case he's interested. Which I doubt.
'Don't forget to stress that it's urgent,' Wallander said. This time Anita Karlen did shake hands with him.
Wallander glanced at the big unlit staircase, but the shadows had gone.
The sky had cleared. He got into his car. Anita Karlen was standing on the steps, her hair fluttering in the wind. As he drove off he could see her in his rear-view mirror, still on the steps, watching him. This time he didn't need to stop at the gates, which started opening as he approached. There was no sign of Kurt Strom. The gates closed automatically behind him, and he drove slowly back to Ystad. It was only three days since he'd suddenly
