the conversation with Mona, which was not going to be an easy matter.
He made soup for dinner and then lay down on the couch and watched TV. A little after seven the door rang. Mona, he thought. She has realised that something is wrong and she's come over.
But when he opened the door, Jespersen was standing there.
'You and your damn mussels,' Wallander said angrily. 'I've been ill for two days.'
Jespersen looked enquiringly at him.
'I didn't notice anything,' he said. 'I'm sure there was nothing wrong with the mussels.'
Wallander decided it was meaningless to keep talking about the dinner. He let Jespersen in. They sat down in the kitchen.
'Something smells funny in here.'
'It usually does when someone has spent almost forty hours on the toilet.'
Jespersen shook his head.
'It must have been something else,' he said. 'Not Anne-Birte's mussels.'
'You're here,' Wallander said. 'That means you have something to tell me.'
'A little coffee would be nice,' Jespersen said.
'I'm all out, sorry. And anyway, I didn't know you were coming.'
Jespersen nodded. He didn't take offence.
'Mussels can certainly give you a stomach ache,' he said, 'but if I'm not completely mistaken, it's something else that's worrying you.'
Wallander was amazed. Jespersen saw right into him, right into the centre of pain that was Mona.
'You may be right,' he said. 'But that's not something I want to talk about.'
Jespersen held up his hands.
'You're here. That means you have something to tell me,' Wallander repeated.
'Have I ever told you what respect I have for your president, Mr Palme?'
'He's not a president, he's not even prime minister yet. But you hardly came all the way here to tell me that.'
'Nonetheless, it should be said,' Jespersen insisted. 'But you are right that other reasons have brought me here. If you live in Copenhagen, only an errand will bring you to Malmo. If you know what I mean.'
Wallander nodded impatiently. Jespersen could be very long-winded. Except when he was telling his tales from his life at sea. Then he was a master.
'I talked a little with some friends in Copenhagen,' Jespersen said. 'That gave me nothing. Then I went over to Malmo and things went better. I spoke with an old electrician who sailed the seven seas for a thousand years. Ljungstrom is his name. Lives in a retirement home nowadays. Except I've forgotten the name of the place. He could hardly stand on his two legs. But his memory is clear.'
'What did he say?'
'Nothing. But he suggested that I chat a little with a man out in Frihamnen. And when I found him and asked him about Hansson and Halen he said, 'Those two are in constant demand.''
'What did he mean by that?'
'What do you think? You're a policeman and should be able to understand what regular folks don't.'
'What did he say again, exactly?'
'That 'those two are in constant demand'.'
Wallander understood.
'There must have been someone else who had been asking about them, or him, to be precise.'
'Yes.'
'Who?'
'He didn't know the name. But he claimed it was a man who seemed a little unstable. How can I put this? Unshaven and badly dressed. And drunk.'
'When did this happen?'
'About a month ago.'
About the same time that Halen had the extra lock put in, Wallander thought.
'He didn't know the man's name? Can I speak with this fellow in Frihamnen myself? He must have had a name?'
'He didn't want to talk to a cop.'
'Why not?'
Jespersen shrugged.
'You know how things can be at the docks. Crates of alcohol that break open, some bags of coffee that go missing.'
Wallander had heard about such things.
'But I kept asking around,' Jespersen said. 'And if I'm not mistaken I think there are some slightly scruffy individuals who have a habit of meeting up to share a bottle or two in that park in the middle of town that I've forgotten the name of. Something that starts with P?'
'Pildamms Park?'
'That's the one. And the man who asked about Halen, or maybe it was Hansson, had a sagging eyelid.'
'Which eye?'
'I don't think it'll be hard to see if you find him.'
'And he asked about Halen or Hansson about a month ago? And he hangs out in Pildamms Park?'
'I thought maybe we could look him up before I head back,' Jespersen said. 'And maybe we'll find a cafe on the way?'
Wallander checked his watch. It was half past seven.
'I can't do it tonight. I'm busy.'
'Then I'm going back to Copenhagen. I'm going to have a word with Anne-Birte about her mussels.'
'It could have been something else,' Wallander said.
'Just what I'll say to Anne-Birte.'
They had walked out into the hall.
'Thanks for coming,' Wallander said. 'And thanks for your help.'
'Thank you,' Jespersen said. 'If you hadn't been there I would have got nothing but trouble and fines that time the guys started to fight.'
'I'll see you around,' Wallander said. 'But no more mussels next time.'
'No more mussels,' Jespersen said and left.
Wallander went back into the kitchen and wrote down everything he had just heard. Someone had been asking about Halen or Hansson. This had taken place about a month ago. At around the same time that Halen had an extra lock put in. The man looking for Halen had a sagging eyelid. Seemed in one way or another to be drifting along. And was possibly hanging out in Pildamms Park.
Wallander put the pen down. I'm going to talk to Hemberg about this too, he thought. Right now this is actually a real lead.
Then Wallander thought that he should of course have asked Jespersen to find out if there was anyone in his circle who had heard of a woman named Alexandra Batista.
He was irritated at his sloppiness. I didn't think it all the way through, he said to himself. I make unnecessary errors.
It was already a quarter to eight. Wallander walked to and fro in the apartment. He was nervous, but his stomach was fine now. He thought about calling his father at the new telephone number in Loderup, but chances were they would start quarrelling. It was enough to deal with Mona. In order to get the time to pass he took a walk around the block. Summer had arrived. The evening was warm. He wondered what would happen with their planned trip to Skagen.
At half past eight he walked back into his apartment. Sat down at the kitchen table with his watch laid out in front of him. I'm acting like a child, he thought. But right now I don't know what to do in order to act any different.
He called at nine o'clock. Mona picked up almost immediately.
'Before you hang up, I would like to explain myself,' Wallander started.
