'One thing we can nonetheless see quite clearly,' Hemberg said after a pause. 'The woman was killed as she sat in the chair. Someone hit her on the head. There are traces of blood on the floor and on the wax tablecloth. Then she was strangled. That gives us several possible points of departure.'
Hemberg looked at Wallander.
He's testing me, Wallander thought. He wants to know if I measure up.
'It must mean that the woman knew the person who killed her.'
'Correct. And more?'
Wallander searched his mind. Were there any other conclusions to be drawn? He shook his head.
'You have to use your eyes,' Hemberg said. 'Was there something on the table? One cup? Several cups? How was she dressed? It is one thing that she knew the person who killed her. Let us for the sake of simplicity assume it was a man. But how well did she know him?'
Wallander understood. It bothered him that he had initially missed what Hemberg had been getting at.
'She was wearing a nightgown and robe,' he said. 'That's not something you wear with just anyone.'
'How did her bed look?'
'It was unmade.'
'Conclusion?'
'Alexandra Batista may have had a relationship with the man who killed her.'
'More?'
'There were no cups on the table, but there were some unwashed glasses next to the stove.'
'We will examine them,' Hemberg said. 'What did they drink? Are there fingerprints? Empty glasses have many exciting things to tell us.'
He rose heavily from the couch. Wallander suddenly realised that he was tired.
'So we actually know a great deal,' Hemberg continued. 'Since there are no signs of an intruder we will work with the hypothesis that the murder was committed under the auspices of a personal connection.'
'That still doesn't explain the fire at Halen's place,' Wallander said.
Hemberg studied him critically.
'You're getting ahead of yourself,' he said. 'We are going to move forward calmly and methodically. We know some things with a great deal of certainty. We proceed from these things. What we do not know, or what we cannot be sure of, will have to wait. You cannot solve a puzzle if half of the pieces are still in the box.'
They had reached the hall. Stefansson had finished his conversation with the photographer and was now talking on the phone.
'How did you get here?' Hemberg asked.
'Taxi.'
'You can come back with me.'
During the trip back to Malmo Hemberg did not say anything. They drove through fog and a drizzling rain. Hemberg dropped Wallander off outside his building in Rosengard.
'Get in touch with me later on today,' Hemberg said. 'If you've recovered from your stomach flu, that is.'
Wallander let himself into his apartment. It was already morning. The fog had begun to dissipate. He didn't bother taking his clothes off. Instead, he lay down on top of the bed. He was soon asleep.
The doorbell jerked him awake. He sleepily stumbled out into the hall and opened the door. His sister, Kristina, was standing there.
'Am I disturbing you?'
Wallander shook his head and let her in.
'I've been working all night,' he said. 'What time is it?'
'Seven. I'm going out to Loderup with Dad today. But I thought I would look in on you first.'
Wallander asked her to put some coffee on while he had a wash and changed his clothes. He bathed his face in cold water for a long time. By the time he came back out to the kitchen he had chased the long night out of his body. Kristina smiled at him.
'You are actually one of the few men I know who doesn't have long hair,' she said.
'It doesn't suit me,' Wallander answered. 'But God knows I've tried. I can't have a beard either. I look ridiculous. Mona threatened to leave me when she saw it.'
'How is she doing?'
'Fine.'
Wallander briefly considered telling her what had happened. About the silence that now lay between them.
Earlier, when they had both lived at home, he and Kristina had had a close and trusting relationship. Even so, Wallander decided to say nothing. After she had moved to Stockholm the contact between them had become vague and more irregular.
Wallander sat down at the table and asked how things were with her.
'Good.'
'Dad said you had met someone who works with kidneys.'
'He's an engineer and he works at developing a new kind of di alysis machine.'
'I'm not sure I know what that is,' Wallander said. 'But it sounds very advanced.'
Then he realised that she had come for a particular reason. He could see it in her face.
'I don't know why,' he said, 'but I can tell that you want something in particular.'
'I don't understand how you can treat Dad this way.'
Wallander was taken aback.
'What do you mean?'
'What do you think? You don't help him pack. You don't even want to see his house in Loderup and when you bump into him on the street you pretend you don't know him.'
Wallander shook his head.
'Did he say that?'
'Yes. And he's very upset.'
'None of this is true.'
'I haven't seen you since I got here. He's moving today.'
'Didn't he tell you that I came by? And that he basically threw me out?'
'He hasn't said anything like that.'
'You shouldn't believe everything he says. At least not about me.'
'So it isn't true?'
'Nothing is true. He didn't even tell me he had bought the house. He hasn't wanted to show it to me, hasn't even told me what it cost. When I was helping him pack I dropped an old plate and all hell broke loose. And actually I do stop and talk to him when I see him on the street. Even though he often looks like a crazy person.'
Wallander could tell she wasn't quite convinced. That irritated him. But even more upsetting was the fact that she was sitting here scolding him. That reminded him of his mother. Or Mona. Or Helena, for that matter. He couldn't stand these meddling women who tried to tell him what to do.
'You don't believe me,' Wallander said, 'but you should. Don't forget that you live in Stockholm and that I have the old man in my face all the time. That makes a big difference.'
The telephone rang. It was twenty minutes past seven. Wallander answered. It was Helena.
'I called you last night,' she said.
'I worked all night.'
'Since no one answered I thought I must have the wrong number, so I called Mona to check.'
Wallander almost dropped the receiver.
'You did what?'
'I called and asked Mona for your telephone number.'
Wallander had no illusions about what the consequences of this would be. If Helena had called Mona that meant Mona's jealousy would flare up with full force. It would not improve their relationship.
'Are you still there?' she asked.
'Yes,' Wallander said, 'but right now my sister is here.'
'I'm at work. You can call me.'
