'One night a week,' Hanson said.
'How did you do?'
Hanson shrugged. 'Swings and roundabouts,' he said. 'Usual thing. Some horses run as they should. Others don't.'
Hanson left, closing the door behind him. Wallander thought of the fury that had welled up inside him when he heard that Harderberg was making preparations to move out. He rarely lost his temper completely, and he could not remember the last time he had so lost control that he had started throwing things around.
Now that he was alone again in his office, he tried to think calmly. The apparent fact that Harderberg intended leaving Farnholm Castle did not necessarily mean anything more than that he had decided to do what he had done many times before: move on to pastures new. There was no good reason to think that he was running away. What was there for him to run away from? And where would he run to? At worst it would make the investigation more complicated. Other police districts would have to be involved, depending on where he decided to settle.
It was a possibility that Wallander needed to look into without delay. He phoned Widen. One of the girls answered. She sounded very young.
'Sten's in the stables,' she said. 'The blacksmith's here.'
'He has a telephone out there,' Wallander said. 'Put me through.'
'The stables phone is out of order,' the girl said.
'Then you'll have to go and fetch him. Tell him Roger Lundin wants to speak to him.'
It was almost five minutes before he came to the phone.
'What is it now?' he asked. He was obviously annoyed at having been disturbed.
'Sofia didn't happen to say where Harderberg was going to move to, did she?'
'How the hell would she know?'
'I'm only asking. She didn't say anything about him intending to leave the country?'
'She only said what I told you. Nothing more.'
'I have to see her. As soon as possible.'
'Come off it, she has a job to do.'
'You'll have to find some excuse. She used to work for you. You have some forms she needs to fill in. You must be able to fix that.'
'I haven't time. The blacksmith's here. The vet's on his way. I have meetings arranged with several owners.'
'This is important. Believe me.'
'I'll do what I can. I'll call you back.'
Wallander put down the receiver. It was 3.30 p.m. already. He waited. After a quarter of an hour he went to fetch a cup of coffee. Five minutes later Svedberg knocked on the door and came in.
'We can forget about the man in Ostersund,' he said. 'His car with the registration number FHC 803 was stolen when he was in Stockholm a week ago. There are no grounds for not believing him. Besides, he's a local councillor.'
'Why would a councillor be more trustworthy than anybody else?' Wallander objected. 'Where was the car stolen? And when? Make sure we get a copy of his theft report.'
'Is that really important?' Svedberg said.
'It might be,' Wallander said. 'And in any case, it won't take long. Have you spoken to Hanson?'
'Only briefly,' Svedberg said. 'He's in with Martinsson at the moment, going through the investigation material.'
'Give him the job, it's about right as something for him to start with.'
Svedberg left. It was 4.00 and Widen still had not phoned. Wallander went to the cloakroom after asking reception to make a note of any incoming calls. He found an evening paper in the toilet and leafed through it, his mind elsewhere. He was back at his desk and had snapped twelve paper clips by the time Widen eventually called.
'I've invented a pack of lies,' he said, 'but you can meet her in Simrishamn an hour from now. I told her to take a taxi and that you'd pay. There's a cafe on the hill leading down to the harbour. Do you know the one I mean?'
Wallander did.
'She hasn't got much time,' Widen said. 'Take some forms with you so that she can pretend to fill them in.'
'Do you think she's under suspicion?'
'How the devil should I know?'
'Thanks for your help anyway.'
'You'll have to give her money for her taxi back to the castle as well.'
'I'll leave right away,' Wallander said.
'What's happened?' Widen said.
'I'll tell you when I know,' Wallander said. 'I'll phone.'
Wallander left the police station at exactly 5 p.m. When he got to Simrishamn he parked by the harbour and walked up the hill to the cafe. As he had hoped, she was not yet there. He crossed the road and continued up the street. He stopped to look in a shop window while keeping an eye on the cafe. Not more than five minutes passed before he saw her coming up the street from the harbour, where she must have left the taxi. She went into the cafe. Wallander scrutinised the passers-by, and when he was as sure as he could be that she was not being followed, he went into the cafe. He should have taken somebody with him, to keep a lookout. She was sitting at a table in the corner. She watched him approach her table without greeting him.
'I'm sorry I'm late,' he said.
'So am I,' she said. 'What do you want? I have to get back to the castle as quickly as possible. Aren't you going to pay for the taxi?'
Wallander took out his wallet and gave her a 500-kronor note. 'Is that enough?' he asked.
She shook her head. 'I need a thousand,' she said.
'What? It costs a thousand kronor to get to Simrishamn and back?' He gave her another 500-kronor note, thinking that she was probably conning him. He was annoyed, but there was no time for that.
'What would you like?' he said. 'Or have you already ordered?'
'I wouldn't mind a coffee,' she said. 'And a bun.'
Wallander went to the counter and ordered. When he paid he asked for a receipt. He went back to the table with his tray.
Sofia was looking at him with an expression which Wallander recognised as being full of contempt.
'Roger Lundin,' she said. 'I don't know what your real name is, and I don't care either. But it's not Roger Lundin. And you're a policeman.'
Wallander thought he may as well tell her the truth. 'You're right, I'm not Roger Lundin. And I am a police officer. But you don't need to know my real name.'
'Why not?'
'Because I say so,' Wallander said, making it clear that he would brook no discussion. She noticed his attitude changed towards her, and she regarded him with something that might even be of interest.
'Listen carefully,' Wallander said. 'One day I'll explain to you why all this secrecy stuff is necessary. For now all I will say is that I'm a police officer investigating a bloody murder. Just so you realise this isn't a game. OK?'
'Perhaps,' she said.
'Right now you're going to answer some questions,' Wallander said. 'And then you can go back to the castle.'
He remembered the forms he had in his pocket. He put them on the table and passed her a pen.
'It could be that somebody's been following you,' he said. 'That's why you're now going to fill in these forms. Pretend this is what our meeting is about. Write your name at the top.'
'Who's following me?' she said, looking round the cafe.
'Look at me,' Wallander snapped. 'Don't look anywhere else. If there is anybody following you we can be
