'This and that. I remember him telling me how tired he was. He said he was completely overworked.'
Wallander looked at her intently. 'Did he really say that he was overworked?'
'Yes.'
'But he had just taken his holiday.'
'I remember it very clearly.'
Wallander thought hard before asking his next question. 'Do you know what he did on his holiday?'
'I don't know if you know this, but he didn't like to leave Ystad. He usually stayed home. He might have taken a short trip to Poland.'
'But what did he do at home? Did he stay in the flat?'
'He had various interests.'
'Such as?'
She shook her head. 'You must know as well as I do. He had two big passions: amateur astronomy and Native American history.'
'I knew about the Indians, and how he sometimes went to Falsterbo to do some bird-watching. But the astronomy is new to me.'
'He had a very expensive telescope.'
Wallander couldn't remember seeing one in the flat.
'Where did he keep it?'
'In his study.'
'So that's what he did on his holidays? Looked at stars and read about Indians?'
'I think so. But this summer was a little unusual.'
'In what way?'
'We usually see a lot of each other over the summer, more so than during the rest of the year. But this year he had no time. He turned down several invitations to dinner.'
'Did he say why?'
She hesitated before answering. 'It was as if he didn't have the time.'
Wallander sensed that he was nearing a crucial point.
'He didn't say why?'
'No.'
'That must have puzzled you.'
'Not really.'
'Did you notice a change in his behaviour? Did something seem to be bothering him?'
'He was just the same as always. The only thing was that he seemed to be pressed for time.'
'When did you first notice this?'
She thought about it. 'Shortly after Midsummer, right about the time he took his holiday.'
The nurse reappeared in the doorway. Ylva Brink got up.
'I'll be right back,' she said.
Wallander looked for a washroom. He drank two more glasses of water and relieved himself. When he came back to the office Ylva was waiting for him.
'I think I'll go now,' he told her. 'Other questions can wait.'
'I can call Sture, if you like. We have to make the funeral arrangements.'
'Try to call in the next couple of hours,' Wallander said. 'We'll be issuing a statement to the press at 11 a.m.'
'It still feels unreal,' she said.
Her eyes had filled with tears. Wallander had trouble keeping his own eyes from welling up. They sat quietly, both fighting back their tears. Wallander tried to concentrate on the clock hanging on the wall, counting the seconds as they ticked by.
'I have one last question,' he said after a while. 'Svedberg was a bachelor. I never heard mention of a woman in his life.'
'I don't think there ever was one,' she answered.
'You don't think that something like that could have happened this summer?'
'You mean that he met a woman?'
'Yes.'
'And that was why he was overworked?'
Wallander realised it seemed absurd. 'These are questions I have to ask,' he repeated. 'Otherwise we won't get anywhere.'
She followed him to the glass doors.
'You have to catch the person who did this,' she said and gripped Wallander's arm tightly.
'You have my word,' Wallander said. 'Svedberg was one of us. We won't stop until we've caught whoever killed him.'
They shook hands.
'Do you know if he used to keep large sums of money in the flat?'
She looked at him with disbelief. 'Where would he have got large sums of money? He always complained about how little he earned.'
'He was right about that.'
'Do you know how much a midwife makes?'
'No.'
'I'd better not tell you. You could say we wouldn't be comparing who makes more but who makes even less.'
When Wallander left the hospital he drew a deep breath. Birds were chirping. It was barely 4 a.m. There was only a faint trace of wind and it was still warm. He started walking slowly back to Lilla Norregatan. One question seemed more important than the others. Why had Svedberg felt overworked when he had just been on holiday? Could it have something to do with his murder?
Wallander stopped in his tracks on the narrow footpath. In his mind he went back to the moment when he had stood in the doorway of the living room and first witnessed the devastation. Martinsson had been right behind him. He had seen a dead man and a shotgun. But almost at once he was struck by the feeling that something wasn't quite right. Could he make out what it was? He tried again without success.
Patience, he thought. I'm tired. It's been a long night and it's not over yet.
He started walking again, wondering when he would have time to sleep and think about his diet. Then he stopped again. A question suddenly came to him.
What if I die as suddenly as Svedberg? Who will miss me? What will people say? That I was a good policeman? But who will miss me as a person? Ann-Britt? Maybe even Martinsson?
A pigeon flew by close to his head. We don't know anything about each other, he thought. What did I really think of Svedberg? Do I actually miss him? Can you miss a person you didn't know?
He started walking again, but he knew these questions would follow him.
Going into Svedberg's flat again was like walking back into a nightmare. Gone was all feeling of summer, sun, and birdsong. Inside, beneath the harsh beams of the spotlights, there was only death.
Lisa Holgersson had returned to the police station. Wallander beckoned Hoglund and Martinsson to follow him into the kitchen. He stopped himself at the last moment from asking them if they had seen Svedberg. They sat down around the kitchen table, grey-faced. Wallander wondered what his own face looked like.
'How is it going?' he asked.
'Can it be anything other than a burglary?' Hoglund asked.
'It could be a lot of other things,' Wallander answered. 'Revenge, a lunatic, two lunatics, three lunatics. We don't know, and as long as we don't know we have to work with what we can see.'
'And one other thing,' Martinsson said slowly.
Wallander nodded, sensing what Martinsson was about to say.
'The fact that Svedberg was a policeman,' Martinsson said.
'Have you found any clues?' Wallander asked. 'How is Nyberg's work going? What's in the medical report?'
