himself. He was perfectly capable of getting himself out of awkward situations, Wallander had no doubt, but even so, he felt increasingly worried. After establishing that nobody in the investigative team was still in the building, he went to his office and called Martinsson at home. His wife answered and told Wallander that Martinsson had taken his daughter to the swimming baths. He was about to phone Svedberg, but changed his mind and called Hoglund instead. Her husband answered. When she came to the phone, Wallander told her that Strom had failed to turn up at their rendezvous.
'What does that mean?' she said.
'I don't know,' Wallander said. 'Probably nothing, but I'm worried.'
'Where are you?'
'In my office.'
'Do you want me to come in?'
'That's not necessary. I'll phone you back if anything happens.'
He hung up and carried on waiting. At 5.30 p.m. he drove back to Svartavagen and shone his torch on the door. The corner of the envelope was still sticking out underneath, so Strom had not been home. Wallander had his mobile phone with him, and dialled Strom's number at Glimmingehus. He let it ring for about a minute, but there was no answer. He was now convinced that something had happened, and decided to go back to the station and get in touch with Akeson.
He had just stopped at a red light on Osterleden when his mobile phone rang.
'There's a Sten Widen trying to get in touch with you,' said the operator at the police switchboard. 'Have you got his number?'
'Yes, I have,' Wallander said. 'I'll phone him now.'
The lights had changed and the driver of a car behind him sounded his horn impatiently. Wallander pulled in to the side of the road, then dialled Widen's number. One of the stablegirls answered.
'Is that Roger Lundin?' she asked.
'Yes,' Wallander said, surprised. 'That's me.'
'I was to tell you that Sten is on his way to your flat in Ystad.'
'When did he leave?'
'A quarter of an hour ago.'
Wallander made a racing start to beat the amber light and drove back to town. Now he was certain something had happened. Strom had not returned home, and Sofia must have contacted Widen and had something so important to tell him that Widen had felt it was necessary to drive to his flat. When he turned into Mariagatan there was no sign of Widen's old Volvo Duett. He waited in the street, wondering desperately what could have happened to Strom.
When Widen's Volvo appeared Wallander opened the door before Widen even had time to switch off the engine.
'What's happened?' he said, as Widen tried to extricate himself from the tattered safety belt.
'Sofia phoned,' he said. 'She sounded hysterical.'
'What about?'
'Do we really have to be out here in the street?' Widen said.
'It's just that I'm worried,' Wallander said.
'On Sofia's account?'
'No, Kurt Strom's.'
'Who the hell is he?'
'We'd better go inside,' Wallander said. 'You're right, we can't stand out here in the cold.'
As they went up the stairs Wallander noticed that Widen smelled of strong drink. He had better have a serious word with him on that score - one of these days when they had resolved who killed the two solicitors.
They sat at the kitchen table, with Baiba's letter still lying there between them.
'Who's this Strom?' Widen asked again.
'Later,' Wallander said. 'You first. Sofia?'
'She phoned about an hour ago,' Widen said, pulling a face. 'I couldn't understand what she was saying at first. She was off her rocker.'
'Where was she calling from?'
'From her flat at the stables.'
'Oh, shit!'
'I don't think she had much choice,' Widen said, scratching his stubble. 'If I understood her rightly, she had been out riding. Suddenly she comes across a dummy lying on the path ahead of her. Have you heard about the dummies? Life size?'
'She told me,' Wallander said. 'Go on.'
'The horse stopped and refused to go past. Sofia dismounted to pull the dummy out of the way. Only it wasn't a dummy.'
'Oh, hell!' said Wallander slowly.
'You sound as if you already know about it,' Widen said.
'I'll explain later. Go on.'
'It was a man lying there. Covered in blood.'
'Was he dead?'
'It didn't occur to me to ask. I assumed so.'
'What next?'
'She rode away and phoned me.'
'What did you tell her to do?'
'I don't know if it was the best advice, but I told her to do nothing, to sit tight.'
'Good,' Wallander said. 'You did exactly the right thing.'
Widen excused himself and went to the bathroom. Wallander could hear the faint clinking of a bottle. When he came back Wallander told him about Strom.
'So you think he was the one there on the path?' Widen said.
'I'm afraid so.'
Widen suddenly boiled over, and smashed his fist down on the table. Baiba Liepa's letter fluttered down to the floor.
'The police had bloody better get themselves out there right away! What the hell's going on at that castle? I'm not letting Sofia stay there a moment longer.'
'That's exactly what we're going to do,' Wallander said, getting to his feet.
'I'm going home,' Widen said. 'Call me as soon as you've got Sofia out of there.'
'No,' Wallander said. 'You're staying here. You've been at the hard stuff. I'm not going to let you drive. You can sleep here.'
Widen stared at Wallander as if he did not know what he was talking about. 'Are you suggesting that I'm drunk?' he said.
'Not drunk, but you're over the limit. I don't want you getting into trouble.'
Widen had left his car keys on the table. Wallander put them in his pocket. 'Just to be on the safe side,' he said. 'I don't want you changing your mind while I'm gone.'
'You must be out of your mind,' Widen said. 'I'm not drunk.'
'We can argue about that when I get back,' Wallander said. 'I've got to go this very minute.'
'I don't give a shit about your Kurt Strom,' Widen said, 'but I don't want anything to happen to her.'
'I take it she's more than just a stablehand to you,' Wallander said.
'Yes,' Widen said. 'But that's not why I don't want anything to happen.'
'That's nothing to do with me,' Wallander said.
'Too right. It isn't.'
Wallander found a pair of unused trainers in his wardrobe. He had many times vowed to start jogging, but had never got round to it. He put on a thick sweater and a woollen cap, and was ready to leave.
'Make yourself at home,' he said to Widen, who'd openly planted his whisky bottle on the kitchen table.
'You worry about Sofia, not about me,' Widen said.
