Wallander hung up and went back to the kitchen. Kristina looked curiously at him.
'Are you ill?'
'No,' he said. 'But I probably should go in to work now.'
They said goodbye in the hall.
'You should believe me,' Wallander said. 'You can't always rely on what he tells you. Let him know I'll be out to see him as soon as I have time. If I'm welcome, that is, and if someone can tell me where this house is.'
'At the edge of Loderup,' Kristina said. 'First you go past a country stall, then down a road bordered with willows. When that ends the house is on the left, with a stone wall to the road. It has a black roof and is very nice.'
'When did you go there?'
'The first load went yesterday.'
'Do you know what he paid for it?'
'He won't say.'
Kristina left. Wallander waved at her through the kitchen window. He forced away his anger over what his father had said about him. What Helena had said was more serious. Wallander called her. When he was told she was on the line with another caller he banged the receiver back on the hook. He rarely lost control, but now he noticed that he was close. He called again. Still busy. Mona is going to end our relationship, he thought. She thinks I've started courting Helena again. It won't matter what I say. She's not going to believe me anyway. He called again. This time he got an answer.
'What did you want?'
Her voice was cold when she replied.
'Do you have to sound so unpleasant? I was actually trying to help you.'
'Was it really necessary to call Mona?'
'She knows I'm not interested in you any more.'
'She does? You don't know Mona.'
'I'm not going to apologise for trying to find your telephone number.'
'What did you want?'
'I've received some information from Captain Verke. Do you remember? I said that we had an old sea captain here.'
Wallander remembered.
'I have some paper copies in front of me. Lists of sailors and engin eers who have worked for Swedish shipping lines for the past ten years. As you can imagine, this includes quite a number of people. By the way, are you sure that the man you mentioned had only served on Swedish-registered vessels?'
'I'm not sure of anything,' Wallander said.
'You can pick up the lists from here,' she said. 'When you have time. But I'll be in meetings all afternoon.'
Wallander promised to come by in the morning. Then he hung up and thought that what he should do now was call Mona and explain the situation. But he let it be. He simply didn't dare.
It was ten minutes to eight. He started to put on his coat.
The thought of patrolling for a whole day increased his despondence.
He was just about to leave the apartment when the telephone rang again. Mona, he thought. Now she's calling to tell me to go to hell. He drew a deep breath and lifted the receiver.
It was Hemberg.
'How are you doing with that stomach flu?'
'I was just on my way in to the station.'
'Good. But come up and report to me. I have talked with Lohman. You are after all a witness who we need to talk to more. That means no patrolling today. And to top it off, you won't have to participate in raids on drug- infested neighbourhoods.'
'I'm on my way,' Wallander said.
'Come by at ten o'clock. I thought you could sit in on a meeting we have scheduled about the murder in Arlov.'
The conversation was over. Wallander checked his watch. He would have time to pick up the papers waiting for him at the shipping office. On the kitchen wall he had a schedule for the buses to and from Rosengard. If he hurried, he wouldn't have to wait.
When he walked out the front door, Mona was there. He had not expected that. As little as he expected what happened next. She walked right over to him and slapped him on the left cheek. Then she twirled round and walked away.
Wallander was so shocked he did not even manage to react. His cheek burned and a man who was unlocking his car door stared at him with curiosity.
Mona was already gone. Slowly he started walking to the bus stop. He had a knot in his stomach now. It had never occurred to him that she would react so violently.
The bus arrived. Wallander made his way down towards the Central Station. The fog had gone. But it was overcast. The morning drizzle continued unabated. He sat in the bus and his head was completely empty. The events of last night no longer existed. The woman who had been sitting dead in her chair was part of a dream. The only thing that was real was that Mona had hit him and then walked away. Without a word, without hesitation.
I have to talk to her, he thought. Not now, while she is still upset. But later, tonight.
He got off the bus. His cheek still stung. The slap had been forceful. He checked his reflection in a shop window. The redness on his cheek was noticeable.
He lingered, confused about his course of action. Thought that he should talk to Lars Andersson as soon as possible. Thank him for his help and explain what had happened.
Then he thought about a house in Loderup he had never seen. And his childhood home, which no longer belonged to his family.
He started to walk. Nothing was made better by his standing unmoving on a pavement in downtown Malmo.
Wallander picked up the large envelope that Helena had left with the office receptionist.
'I need to talk to her,' he said to the receptionist.
'She's busy' was the answer. 'She just asked me to give you this.'
Wallander realised Helena was probably angry about the morning's conversation and did not want to see him. He didn't have great difficulties relating to this.
It wasn't more than five minutes past nine when Wallander arrived at the police station. He walked to his office and to his relief found that no one was waiting for him. Once again he thought through everything that had happened this morning. If he called the hair salon where Mona worked she would say she didn't have time to talk. He would have to wait until tonight.
He opened the envelope and was amazed at how long the lists of names from various shipping companies that Helena had managed to dig up were. He looked for Artur Halen's name, but it wasn't there. The closest names he saw were a seaman by the name of Hale who had mostly sailed for the Granges shipping line, and a chief engineer on the Johnson line by the name of Hallen. Wallander pushed aside the pile of paper. If the records he had in front of him were complete that meant that Halen had not worked on any ships registered in the Swedish merchant fleet. Then it would be nearly impossible to find him. Wallander suddenly did not know any longer what he was hoping to find. An explanation of what?
It had taken him almost three-quarters of an hour to go through the lists. He got to his feet and walked up to the next floor. He bumped into his boss, Inspector Lohman, in the corridor.
'Weren't you supposed to be with Hemberg today?'
'I'm on my way.'
'What were you doing out in Arlov, anyway?'
'It's a long story; that's what the meeting with Hemberg is about.'
Lohman shook his head and hurried on. Wallander felt relief at not having to go to the dreary and depressing drug-infested neighbourhoods that his colleagues were going to have to deal with that day.
Hemberg was sitting in his office, sorting through some papers. As usual he had his feet up on the desk. He looked up when Wallander appeared in the doorway.
