Wallander thought. She and all the rest of them. Probably no-one's talking about anything else. Some of them are probably even gleeful about the fact that that bastard Wallander has finally got what's been coming to him.
He asked Irene to put him through to Hansson's office. It was a while before he answered. Wallander suspected that Hansson had been pouring over some complicated betting sheets that were supposed to get him that big jackpot, but never helped him do much more than break even.
"How are the horses doing?" Wallander asked when Hansson answered.
He said that to let him know that the story in the evening papers hadn't affected him.
"What horses?"
"You're not betting on horses these days?"
"No, not right now. Why do you ask?"
"It was just a joke. What was it you wanted to ask me?"
"Are you in your office?"
"I'm at home with a cold."
"I wanted to tell you that I've worked out the times that our cars went up and down that road. I've talked to the drivers and no-one saw Hökberg. All in all that stretch of road was covered four times."
"Then she didn't walk. She must have had a lift. The first thing she did when she left the station was call someone. Or else she walked to someone's house first. I hope Ann-Britt knew enough to ask Persson about that, about who could have given Hökberg a lift. Have you talked to Ann-Britt?"
"I haven't had time."
There was a pause. Wallander decided to be the first to bring it up.
"That picture in the paper wasn't too flattering, I suppose."
"No."
"The question is what was a photographer doing floating around the corridor of the station. They're always brought in as a group for the press conferences."
"It's odd that you didn't notice someone taking pictures."
"With today's cameras it's not so easy."
"What exactly happened?"
Wallander told him what had happened. He used the same words that he had used when he described it to Holgersson.
"There were no witnesses?" Hansson said.
"No-one apart from the photographer and he's going to lie. Otherwise his picture wouldn't be worth anything."
"You'll have to make a public rebuttal and tell your side."
"And how well would that work? An ageing police officer's word against a mother and her daughter? It'll never work."
"You forget that this particular girl committed murder."
Wallander wondered if that was really going to help. A policeman using excessive force was always a serious matter. That was his own opinion. It didn't help that the details of the situation had been quite unusual.
"I'll think about it," he said and asked Hansson to put him through to Nyberg.
By the time Nyberg came on the line Wallander had taken a few more swigs from his whisky bottle and was beginning to feel tipsy, but the pressure was lifting from his chest.
"Have you seen the papers?" Wallander said.
"Which papers?"
"The picture? The picture of the Persson girl?"
"I don't read the evening papers, but I heard about it. I understand she had been attacking her mother."
"That's not what the picture caption says."
"So what does that matter?"
"It means I'm in big trouble. Lisa is going to set up a formal investigation."
"So then the truth comes out. Isn't that what you want?"
"I just wonder if the media will buy it. Who cares about an old policeman when there's a young, fresh-faced murderess involved?"
Nyberg sounded surprised. "Since when have you cared what they write in the paper?"
"Maybe I still don't. But it's different when they publish a picture saying I've punched out a young girl."
"But she's committed murder."
"It still makes me uncomfortable."
"It'll blow over. Look, I just wanted to confirm that one of the car prints was from Moberg's car. That means that all the sets of tracks have been accounted for except one, but that unknown one is using common tyres."
"So we know someone drove her out there. And left her."
"There's one other thing," Nyberg said. "Her handbag."
"What about it?"
"I've been trying to work out why it was so far away, over by the fence."
"Don't you
He asked Irene to put him through to Hansson's office. It was a while before he answered. Wallander suspected that Hansson had been pouring over some complicated betting sheets that were supposed to get him that big jackpot, but never helped him do much more than break even.
"How are the horses doing?" Wallander asked when Hansson answered.
He said that to let him know that the story in the evening papers hadn't affected him.
"What horses?"
"You're not betting on horses these days?"
"No, not right now. Why do you ask?"
"It was just a joke. What was it you wanted to ask me?"
"Are you in your office?"
"I'm at home with a cold."
"I wanted to tell you that I've worked out the times that our cars went up and down that road. I've talked to the drivers and no-one saw Hökberg. All in all that stretch of road was covered four times."
"Then she didn't walk. She must have had a lift. The first thing she did when she left the station was call someone. Or else she walked to someone's house first. I hope Ann-Britt knew enough to ask Persson about that, about who could have given Hökberg a lift. Have you talked to Ann-Britt?"
"I haven't had time."
There was a pause. Wallander decided to be the first to bring it up.
"That picture in the paper wasn't too flattering, I suppose."
"No."
"The question is what was a photographer doing floating around the corridor of the station. They're always brought in as a group for the press conferences."
"It's odd that you didn't notice someone taking pictures."
"With today's cameras it's not so easy."
"What exactly happened?"
Wallander told him what had happened. He used the same words that he had used when he described it to Holgersson.
"There were no witnesses?" Hansson said.
"No-one apart from the photographer and he's going to lie. Otherwise his picture wouldn't be worth anything."
"You'll have to make a public rebuttal and tell your side."
"And how well would that work? An ageing police officer's word against a mother and her daughter? It'll never work."
"You forget that this particular girl committed murder."
Wallander wondered if that was really going to help. A policeman using excessive force was always a serious matter. That was his own opinion. It didn't help that the details of the situation had been quite unusual.
"I'll think about it," he said and asked Hansson to put him through to Nyberg.
By the time Nyberg came on the line Wallander had taken a few more swigs from his whisky bottle and was beginning to feel tipsy, but the pressure was lifting from his chest.
"Have you seen the papers?" Wallander said.
"Which papers?"
"The picture? The picture of the Persson girl?"
"I don't read the evening papers, but I heard about it. I understand she had been attacking her mother."
"That's not what the picture caption says."
"So what does that matter?"
"It means I'm in big trouble. Lisa is going to set up a formal investigation."
"So then the truth comes out. Isn't that what you want?"
"I just wonder if the media will buy it. Who cares about an old policeman when there's a young, fresh-faced murderess involved?"
Nyberg sounded surprised. "Since when have you cared what they write in the paper?"
"Maybe I still don't. But it's different when they publish a picture saying I've punched out a young girl."
"But she's committed murder."
"It still makes me uncomfortable."
"It'll blow over. Look, I just wanted to confirm that one of the car prints was from Moberg's car. That means that all the sets of tracks have been accounted for except one, but that unknown one is using common tyres."
"So we know someone drove her out there. And left her."
"There's one other thing," Nyberg said. "Her handbag."
"What about it?"
"I've been trying to work out why it was so far away, over by the fence."
"Don't you
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