Eslov was already known.'
'If it's all right with you, I'd like to come out to see you as soon as possible.'
Sture Bjorklund immediately put up his guard.
'What about?'
'We're trying to clarify our picture of Karl Evert.' It felt unnatural to use his first name.
'I didn't know him very well, though, and I have to go to Copenhagen this afternoon.'
'This is urgent and it won't take much time.'
The man was quiet at the other end of the line. Wallander waited.
'What time?'
'Around 2 p.m.?'
'I'll call Copenhagen and let them know I won't be in today.'
Sture Bjorklund gave Wallander directions. His house didn't seem hard to find.
After the phone conversation, Wallander spent a half hour writing out a summary of the case. He was still searching for the thought he had had when he first saw Svedberg lying on the floor - the thought that something wasn't quite right, the same idea that had also struck Nyberg. Wallander realised that it could simply be a reaction to the unbearable and incomprehensible experience of seeing a colleague dead. But he still tried to explore what might have caused it.
A little after 10 a.m. he went to get another cup of coffee. A number of people were gathered in the canteen. There was a general atmosphere of shock and dismay. Wallander lingered for a while, talking to some traffic officers. Then he walked back to his office and called Nyberg on his mobile phone.
'Where are you?' Wallander asked.
'Where do you think?' he replied sourly. 'I'm still in Svedberg's flat.'
'You haven't seen a telescope, by any chance?'
'No.'
'Anything else?'
'We have a number of prints on the shotgun. We'll be able to get complete copies of at least two or three of them.'
'Then we'll hope he's already in the database. Is that it?'
'Yes.'
'I'm on my way to question Svedberg's other cousin, who lives outside Hedeskoga. After that I'll be back to do a more thorough search of the flat.'
'We'll be done by then. I'm also planning to attend the press conference.'
Wallander couldn't remember Nyberg ever coming to a meeting that involved the press before. Maybe it was Nyberg's way of expressing how upset he was. Wallander was suddenly moved.
'Have you found any keys?' he asked after a moment.
'There are some car keys and a key to the basement storage area.'
'Nothing in the attic?'
'There don't seem to be storage areas in the attic, only in the basement. You'll get the keys from me at the press conference.'
Wallander hung up and went to Martinsson's office.
'Where's Svedberg's car?' he asked. 'The Audi.'
Martinsson didn't know. They asked Hansson, who didn't know either. Hoglund wasn't in her office.
Martinsson looked at his watch.
'It's got to be in a car park close to the flat,' he said. 'I think I have time to check before 11 a.m.'
Wallander went back to his office. He saw that people had started to send flowers. Ebba looked like she had been crying, but Wallander didn't say anything to her. He hurried past her as fast as he could.
The press conference started on time. Afterwards Wallander remembered thinking that Lisa Holgersson conducted the proceedings with dignity. He told her that no one could have done a better job. She was wearing her uniform and standing in front of a table with two bouquets of roses. Her speech was clear and to the point. She told the press the known facts, and her voice did not fail her this time. A respected colleague, Karl Evert Svedberg, had been found murdered in his flat. The exact time of death and the motive were not yet known, but there were indications that Svedberg was attacked by an armed burglar. The police did not have any leads. She concluded by describing Svedberg's career and his character. Wallander thought her description of Svedberg was very good, not exaggerated in any way. Wallander answered the few questions that were asked. Nyberg described the murder weapon as a Lambert Baron shotgun.
It was all over in half an hour. Afterwards, Holgersson was interviewed by the
At midday Holgersson asked the members of the investigative team to a simple lunch at her home. Wallander and Holgersson spoke about some of their memories of Svedberg. Wallander was the only one who had heard Svedberg explain why he had decided to become a police officer.
'He was afraid of the dark,' Wallander said. 'That's what he said. The fear had been with him since his earliest childhood, and he had never been able to understand it or overcome it. He became a police officer because he thought it would be a way to fight this fear, but it never left him.'
A little before 1.30 p.m. they returned to the station. Wallander drove back with Martinsson.
'She handled that very well,' Martinsson said.
'Lisa's good at her job,' Wallander answered. 'But you knew that already, didn't you?'
Martinsson didn't answer.
Wallander suddenly remembered something. 'Did you find the Audi?'
'There's a private car park at the back of the building. It was there. I looked it over.'
'Did you see a telescope in the boot?'
'There was only a spare tyre and a pair of boots. And a can of insecticide in the glove compartment.'
'August is the month for bees,' Wallander said glumly.
They went their separate ways when they arrived at the station. Wallander had got a bunch of keys from Nyberg at the lunch, but before he returned to the fiat he drove to Hedeskoga. Sture Bjorklund's directions were very clear, Wallander thought, as he turned into a little farmhouse that lay just outside the town. There was a fountain in front of the house, and the large lawn had plaster statues dotted all over it. Wallander saw to his surprise that they all looked like devils, all with terrifying, gaping jaws. He wondered briefly what he would have expected a professor of sociology to have in his garden, but his thoughts were interrupted by a man wearing boots, a worn leather coat, and a torn straw hat. He was very tall and thin. Through the tear in the hat Wallander could see one similarity between Svedberg and his cousin: they were both bald.
Wallander was thrown for a moment. He hadn't expected Professor Bjorklund to look like this. His face was sunburnt, and had a couple of days' worth of stubble. Wallander wondered whether professors in Copenhagen really appeared unshaven at their lectures. But then he reminded himself that the semester had not yet started and that Bjorklund probably had other business across the strait.
'I hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience,' Wallander said.
Sture Bjorklund threw his head back and laughed. Wallander noted a certain amount of derision in his laughter.
'There's a woman I meet in Copenhagen every Friday,' Sture Bjorklund said. 'I suppose you would call her a mistress. Do policemen in the Swedish countryside have mistresses?'
'Hardly,' Wallander said.
'It's an ingenious solution to the problems of coexistence,' Bjorklund said. 'Each time may be the last. There's no co-dependence, no late-night discussions that might get out of hand and lead to things like furniture buying or pretending that one takes the idea of marriage seriously.'
This man in the straw hat with the shrill laugh was starting to get on Wallander's nerves.
'Well, murder is something to take seriously,' he said.
Sture Bjorklund nodded and took off the hat, as if he felt compelled to show a sign of something resembling mourning.
