Before the Frost by Henning Mankell Page B

said.
    â€œShe has a car, I take it.”
    â€œActually, she has a red Vespa. Forty years old.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œAll Vespas used to be red, my mother tells me. She’s in an association for owners of vintage mopeds and Vespas. The headquarters are in Staffanstorp, I think. I don’t know why—why she wants to be with those people, I mean. But she seems to like them.”
    â€œYou said she became a widow about a year ago. Did she show any signs of depression?”
    â€œNo. And if you think she’s committed suicide you’re wrong.”
    â€œI’m not saying she did. But sometimes even the people closest to us can be very good at hiding their feelings.”
    Linda stared at her father. He glanced briefly in her direction. We have to talk, she thought. It was wrong of me not to tell him about the time I stood on the bridge and was going to jump. He thinks the only time was when I slashed my wrists .
    â€œShe would never hurt herself. She would never do that to us.”
    â€œIs there anyone she may have gone to visit?”
    Vanya had lit a cigarette. She had already managed to spill ash on her blouse and the floor.
    â€œMy mother is the old-fashioned type. She never drops in on someone without calling.”
    â€œOur colleagues have confirmed that she hasn’t been admitted to any hospital in the area, and there are no reports of an accident. Does she have a medical condition we should know about? Does she have a cell phone?”

    â€œMy mother is a very healthy woman. She takes care of herself—not like me, though it’s hard to get enough exercise when you’re in the grocery business.”
    Vanya made a gesture of disgust at her own body.
    â€œA cell phone?”
    â€œShe has one, but she keeps it turned off. My sister and I are always getting on her case about it.”
    There was a lull in the conversation. They heard the low sound of a radio or a TV coming from the apartment next door.
    â€œSo let’s get this straight. You have no idea where she may have gone. Is there anyone who would have more specific information regarding her research? Is there a diary or working papers of some kind we could look at?”
    â€œNot that I know of. And my mother works alone.”
    â€œHas this ever happened before?”
    â€œThat she’s disappeared? Never.”
    Wallander took a notepad and a pen out of his coat pocket and asked Vanya for her full name, address, and telephone number. Linda noticed that he reacted to her last name, Jorner. He stopped writing and looked up.
    â€œYour mother’s surname is Medberg. Is Jorner your husband’s name?”
    â€œYes, Hans Jorner. My mother’s maiden name was Lundgren. Is this important?”
    â€œHans Jorner—any connection to the gravel company in Limhamn?”
    â€œYes, he’s the youngest son of the company director. Why?”
    â€œI’m curious, that’s all.”
    Wallander stood up and Linda followed.
    â€œWould you mind showing us around? Did she have a study?”
    Vanya pointed to a door and then put her hand to her mouth to smother an attack of smoker’s cough. They walked into a study where the walls were covered with maps. Stacks of papers and folders were neatly arranged on the desk.
    â€œWhat was all that about Jorner?” Linda asked in a low voice.
    â€œI’ll tell you later. It’s an unpleasant story.”
    â€œAnd what was it she said? She’s a grocer?”

    â€œYes.”
    Linda leafed through a few papers. He stopped her immediately.
    â€œYou can come along, listen, and look to your heart’s content. But don’t touch anything.”
    â€œIt was just a few papers.”
    Linda left the room in a huff. He was right, of course, but his tone was objectionable. She nodded politely to Vanya, who was still coughing, and left the apartment. As soon as she was down on the street she regretted her childish