'You're no doubt right,' Akeson agreed. 'The solution must be somewhere in his relations with his clients. Something that involves everybody working for the firm. Including the secretary, Mrs Duner.'
'We're searching.'
'I haven't much more to say about Sten Torstensson,' Akeson said. 'A bachelor, a bit old-fashioned as well. I've heard the odd rumour to the effect that he was interested in persons of the same sex, but that's a rumour that circulates about all bachelors who are getting on in years. Thirty years ago, we could have guessed it might be blackmail.'
'That might be worth bearing in mind,' Wallander said. 'Anything else?'
'Not really. Very occasionally he would come out with a joke, but he wasn't exactly the type you wanted to invite for dinner. He was said to be a good sailor, though.'
The phone rang. Akeson answered, then handed the receiver to Wallander.
Wallander recognised Martinsson's voice, and could hear straight away that it was important. Martinsson's voice was loud and shrill.
'I'm at the solicitors' offices,' he said. 'We've found something that might be what we've been looking for.'
'What?'
'Threatening letters.'
'Who to?'
'To all three.'
'Mrs Duner as well?'
'Her as well.'
'I'm on my way.'
Wallander handed the receiver back to Akeson and rose to his feet.
'Martinsson's found some threatening letters,' he said. 'It looks as if you might have been right.'
'Phone me here or at home the moment you've got anything to tell me,' Akeson said.
Wallander went out to his car without going back to his office for his jacket. He exceeded the speed limit all the way to the solicitors' offices. Lundin was in reception as he hurried through the door.
'Where are they?' he said.
She pointed at the conference room. Wallander went straight in before he remembered that there were people from the Bar Council there as well. Three solemn men, each one in his sixties, who clearly resented his barging in. He thought of the unshaven face he had seen in the mirror earlier - he did not look exactly presentable.
Martinsson and Svedberg were at the table, waiting for him.
'This is Inspector Wallander,' Svedberg said.
'A police officer with a national reputation,' said one of the men, stiffly, shaking hands. Wallander shook hands with the other two as well, and sat down.
'Fill me in,' Wallander said, looking at Martinsson. But the reply came from one of the lawyers from Stockholm.
'Perhaps I should start by informing Inspector Wallander of the procedure undertaken when a firm of solicitors is liquidated,' said the man whose name Wallander had gathered was Wrede.
'We can do that later,' Wallander intervened. 'Let's get straight down to business. You've found some threatening letters, I understand?'
Wrede looked at him disapprovingly, but said no more. Martinsson pushed a brown envelope across the table to Wallander, and Svedberg handed him a pair of plastic gloves.
'They were at the back of a drawer in a filing cabinet,' Martinsson said. 'They weren't listed in any diary or ledger. They were hidden away.'
Wallander put on the gloves and opened the large brown envelope. Inside were two smaller envelopes. He tried without success to decipher the postmark. On one of the envelopes was a patch of ink, suggesting that some of the text had been crossed out. He took out the two letters, written on white paper, and put them on the desk in front of him. They were handwritten, and the text was short:
The second letter was even shorter, the handwriting the same:
The first letter was dated June 19, 1992, and the second August 26 of the same year. Both letters were signed
Wallander slid the letters carefully to one side and took off the gloves.
'We've searched the ledgers,' Martinsson said, 'but neither Gustaf nor Sten Torstensson had a client by the name of Lars Borman.'
'That's correct,' Wrede confirmed.
'The man writes about an injustice,' Martinsson said. 'It must have been something major, or he wouldn't have had cause to threaten the lives of all three.'
'I'm sure you're right,' Wallander said, his thoughts miles away.
Once again he had the feeling there was something he ought to understand, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
'Show me where you found the envelope,' he said, standing up.
Svedberg led him to a big filing cabinet in the office where Mrs Duner had her desk. Svedberg pointed to one of the lower drawers. Wallander opened it. It was filled with suspension files.
'Fetch Miss Lundin,' he said.
When Svedberg came back with her, Wallander could see she was very nervous. Even so, without being able to say why, he was convinced that she had nothing to do with the mysterious events at the solicitors' offices.
'Who had a key to this filing cabinet?' he said.
'Mrs Duner,' Lundin replied, almost inaudibly.
'Please speak a bit louder,' Wallander said.
'Mrs Duner,' she repeated.
'Only her?'
'The solicitors had their own keys.'
'Was it kept locked?'
'Mrs Duner used to open it in the morning and lock it again when she went home.'
Wrede interrupted the conversation. 'We have signed for a key from Mrs Duner,' he said. 'Sten Torstensson's key. We opened the cabinet today.'
Wallander nodded. There was something else he ought to ask Lundin, he was sure, but he couldn't think what it was. Instead he turned to Wrede.
'What do you think about these threatening letters?' he said.
'The man must obviously be arrested at once,' Wrede said.
'That's not what I asked,' Wallander said. 'I asked for your opinion.'
'Solicitors are often placed in an exposed situation.'
'I take it all solicitors receive this kind of letter sooner or later?'
'The Bar Council might be able to supply the statistics.'
Wallander looked at him for some time before asking his final question.
'Have you ever received a threatening letter?'
'It has happened.'
'Why?'
'I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to reveal that. It would break my oath of confidentiality as a lawyer.'
Wallander could see his point. He replaced the letters in the brown envelope.
'We'll take these with us,' he said to the men from the Bar Council.
'It's not quite so straightforward as that,' Wrede said. He seemed always to be the one speaking on behalf of the others. Wallander felt like he was in a court facing a judge.
'It's possible that just at this moment our interests are not identical,' Wallander interrupted him, irritated by his way of speaking. 'You're here to work out what to do with the firm's property, if that's what you can call it. We
