universe of some kind. Wallander took the books with him back to the desk. They were well-thumbed. He put on his glasses and read the blurb on the back cover of the first book. Timothy Neil discussed the importance of following the spiritual map as revealed by people's dreams. Wallander made a face and put the book down. Rebecka Stanford in turn discussed what she referred to as 'chronological dissolution'. Something caught his attention. There seemed to be a discussion of how groups of people could control time and move back and forth through the ages. She seemed to be arguing that this technique was useful for 'self-actualisation in a time of increased meaninglessness and confusion'.
'Have you ever heard of an author by the name of Rebecka Stanford?' Wallander asked Martinsson, who was standing on a chair looking through the contents of the highest shelf in the cupboard. He got down and came over to look at the book, then shook his head.
'It must be a young person's book. You'd better ask Linda,' he said.
Wallander nodded. Martinsson was right; he should ask Linda, who read a lot. During their holiday on Gotland he had been surprised by all the books she had brought with her. He hadn't recognised the name of even a single author.
Martinsson returned to the cupboard, and Wallander turned to the shelf beside the bed. There were some photo albums there, which he brought back to the desk. Inside were pictures of Isa and her brother. The colours had started to fade. In one, the two of them were standing on either side of a snowman. They both held themselves stiffly, looking unhappy. After this photograph were several pages of Isa by herself. School photographs, images of Isa and her friends in Copenhagen. Then some more of her with Jorgen. Here he was older, perhaps 15, and sombre. Whether his attitude was affected or genuine, Wallander couldn't tell. The approaching suicide could be read in the pictures, Wallander thought, but did he know it himself? Isa was smiling in these pictures, while Jorgen looked miserable. Next were shots of a coastal landscape. Wallander was reminded of the watercolour painting. On one of the pictures he read 'Barnso, 1989.' Wallander kept leafing through the pages. There were no photographs of the parents, just Jorgen and Isa, her friends, and landscape shots of the same coastline and small islands.
'Where is Barnso?' Wallander asked.
'Isn't it one of the islands that gets mentioned in the marine weather report?'
Wallander wasn't sure. He looked for a long time at a picture of Isa standing on a rock just below the waves. It almost looked like she was walking on water. Who had taken it? Martinsson suddenly whistled with surprise.
'You'd better take a look at this,' he said.
Wallander got up quickly. Martinsson held a wig in his hand that looked like the ones Boge, Norman and Hillstrom had been wearing. There was a slip of paper attached to a strand of hair. Wallander carefully removed it.
'Should we give them a call right now?' Martinsson asked.
'Or visit them in person,' Wallander said, thinking. 'No, let's start by calling.'
'You'd better do it,' Martinsson said. 'Danes never understand my Swedish.'
'You're the one who doesn't understand them,' Wallander said gently. 'Since you never listen properly.'
'I'll find out where Barnso is. Why did you want to know that?'
'I'm trying to figure that out myself,' Wallander answered and dialled the number. A woman answered. He introduced himself and explained what he wanted to know.
'The wig was rented by Isa Edengren, from Skarby, Sweden,' he said.
'I'll check. Just a moment,' she said.
Wallander waited. He could hear Martinsson asking someone for the number of the coast guard. The woman came back to the phone.
'There's no record of any rentals to Isa Edengren,' she said. 'Not on that day nor the days before.'
'I'll give you another name to try,' Wallander said.
'I'm the only person working here right now and I have some customers. Can it wait?'
'No. If you can't help me, I'll have to contact the Danish police.'
She made no further protests and he gave her the other names - Martin Boge, Lena Norman and Astrid Hillstrom. Then he waited again. Martinsson sounded irritated. He didn't seem to be getting anywhere. The woman returned.
'Yes, that's right,' she said. 'Lena Norman came in and rented four wigs and some costumes on 19 June. It was all due back on 28 June but she hasn't shown up. We were just about to send off a reminder.'
'Do you remember serving her? Was she alone?'
'My colleague was here that day. His name is Mr Sorensen.'
'Can I talk to him?'
'He's on holiday until the end of August.'
'Where is he?'
'He's on his way to the Antarctic.'
'Where?'
'He's on his way to the South Pole. He's visiting some old Norwegian whale fishing stations along the way. Mr Sorensen's father was a whale fisherman. I think he was even the one who operated the harpoon.'
'So there's no one at the shop who can identify Lena Norman, or tell me if she came in alone to rent the wigs?'
'No, I'm sorry. Of course, we would like to have them back. Otherwise we'll have to charge a replacement fee.'
'It'll be a little while. They're involved in a case we're working on.'
'Has anything happened?'
'You could say that, but I'll explain later. Please tell Mr Sorensen to contact the Ystad police as soon as he returns.'
'I'll tell him. Wallander, was it?'
'Kurt Wallander.'
Wallander hung up. So Lena Norman had been in Copenhagen. But had she gone there alone?
Martinsson came back into the room. 'Barnso Island is off the coast of Ostergatland,' he said. 'Or more precisely, it's part of the Gryt archipelago. There's also a Barnso way up north, but that's more of a reef.'
Wallander told him about his conversation with the fancy dress shop in Copenhagen.
'We should talk to Lena Norman's parents,' Martinsson said.
'I would have liked to wait a few days,' Wallander said, 'but I don't think that will be possible.'
They both sat quietly for a moment, considering what lay ahead of them. At that moment they heard the front door open. They were both struck by the thought that it might be Isa Edengren. When they went to the top of the stairs, however, they saw Lundberg standing in the hall. When he caught sight of them he kicked off his boots and walked upstairs.
'Has Isa been in touch with you?' Wallander asked.
'No, it's something else. I don't mean to take up your time, but there was something you said when we were talking in the yard, about me calling the hospital to ask how Isa was.'
'It was perfectly natural for you to want to know how she was doing.'
Lundberg looked at Wallander with concern. 'But that's just it. I didn't call, and neither did my wife. We didn't call to see how she was, although we should have.'
Wallander and Martinsson exchanged glances.
'You didn't call?'
'No. Neither one of us.'
'Is there another Lundberg who might have called?'
'Who would that be?'
Wallander looked thoughtfully at the man in front of him. There was no reason to doubt he was telling the truth. So someone else had called the hospital. Someone who knew that Isa was in close contact with the Lundbergs. Someone who also knew that she was there. But what had that person wanted to know? That Isa was getting better, or if she had died?
'I just don't understand. Who would pretend to be me?' Lundberg asked.
