close relatives," Bjork said. "I'm very much afraid we won't be able to keep this quiet for very long. And then, I really don't understand how you could just let that thief go. He can run to some evening tabloid or other and earn himself a fortune if he spills the beans on this story."
Wallander was irritated by Bjork's niggling tone. On the other hand, he had to admit that there was a very real risk.
"Yes," he said. "That was stupid. My fault."
"I thought it was Svedberg who let him go," Bjork said.
"It was Svedberg," Wallander said. "But it's my responsibility in any case."
"Please don't be angry with me for saying this," Bjork said.
Wallander shrugged. "I'm angry at whoever did this to Louise Akerblom," he said. "And to her daughters. And to her husband."
They sealed off the house and grounds, and the investigation continued. Wallander got into his car and called Pastor Tureson, who answered more or less right away. Wallander told him what they had found. Tureson was silent for quite some time before answering. He said he would wait for Wallander outside the church.
"Will he break down?" Wallander said.
"He has faith in God," Pastor Tureson said.
We'll see about that, Wallander thought. We'll see if that's enough.
But he said nothing.
Pastor Tureson was standing on the street, his head bowed.
Wallander found it difficult to collect his thoughts as he drove into town. There was nothing he found more difficult than telling relatives that someone in their family had died. There was no real difference whether the death was caused by an accident, a suicide or a violent crime. No matter how hard he tried to express himself carefully and considerately, his words were cruelty itself. It had occurred to him that he was the ultimate herald of tragedy. He remembered what Rydberg, his friend and colleague, had said a few months before he died. "There will never be an appropriate way for a policeman to tell somebody of a sudden death. That's why we have to do it ourselves, and never delegate the job to anybody else. We're probably more resilient than the others - we've seen more of what nobody ought ever to see."
On the way into town he had also the persistent feeling that something was utterly wrong, absolutely incomprehensible; the whole investigation was totally misguided, and some explanation or other must soon come to light. He would ask Martinsson and Svedberg straight out if they felt as he did. Was there a possible link between that black finger and Louise Akerblom's disappearance and death? Or was it just a combination of coincidences?
There might also be a third explanation, he thought: that somebody had manufactured the confusion.
But why had this death taken place at all? he asked himself. The only motive we have been able to find so far is unrequited love. But it is a pretty big step from there to a charge of murder. Not to mention murder so cold-blooded that the car was hidden in one place and the body several kilometres away.
Maybe we haven't found a single stone worth turning over, he thought. What do we do if we find that Stig Gustafson is not worth following up?
He thought of the handcuffs. Of Louise Akerblom's constant smile. Of the happy family that had been destroyed. But was it the image that had collapsed? Or was it the reality? Pastor Tureson got into the car. He had tears in his eyes. Wallander immediately felt a lump in his throat.
"We've found her at an empty house some way outside of Ystad. I can't tell you any more, for the time being," Wallander said.
"How did she die?"
Wallander thought for a moment before replying. "She was shot," he said.
"I have one more question," Tureson said. "Apart from wanting to know who could have carried out such a crazy act. Did she suffer a lot before she died?"
"I don't know yet," Wallander said. "But even if I did know, I would tell her husband that death came very quickly, and hence painlessly."
They drew up outside the house. On the way to the
Wallander was irritated by Bjork's niggling tone. On the other hand, he had to admit that there was a very real risk.
"Yes," he said. "That was stupid. My fault."
"I thought it was Svedberg who let him go," Bjork said.
"It was Svedberg," Wallander said. "But it's my responsibility in any case."
"Please don't be angry with me for saying this," Bjork said.
Wallander shrugged. "I'm angry at whoever did this to Louise Akerblom," he said. "And to her daughters. And to her husband."
They sealed off the house and grounds, and the investigation continued. Wallander got into his car and called Pastor Tureson, who answered more or less right away. Wallander told him what they had found. Tureson was silent for quite some time before answering. He said he would wait for Wallander outside the church.
"Will he break down?" Wallander said.
"He has faith in God," Pastor Tureson said.
We'll see about that, Wallander thought. We'll see if that's enough.
But he said nothing.
Pastor Tureson was standing on the street, his head bowed.
Wallander found it difficult to collect his thoughts as he drove into town. There was nothing he found more difficult than telling relatives that someone in their family had died. There was no real difference whether the death was caused by an accident, a suicide or a violent crime. No matter how hard he tried to express himself carefully and considerately, his words were cruelty itself. It had occurred to him that he was the ultimate herald of tragedy. He remembered what Rydberg, his friend and colleague, had said a few months before he died. "There will never be an appropriate way for a policeman to tell somebody of a sudden death. That's why we have to do it ourselves, and never delegate the job to anybody else. We're probably more resilient than the others - we've seen more of what nobody ought ever to see."
On the way into town he had also the persistent feeling that something was utterly wrong, absolutely incomprehensible; the whole investigation was totally misguided, and some explanation or other must soon come to light. He would ask Martinsson and Svedberg straight out if they felt as he did. Was there a possible link between that black finger and Louise Akerblom's disappearance and death? Or was it just a combination of coincidences?
There might also be a third explanation, he thought: that somebody had manufactured the confusion.
But why had this death taken place at all? he asked himself. The only motive we have been able to find so far is unrequited love. But it is a pretty big step from there to a charge of murder. Not to mention murder so cold-blooded that the car was hidden in one place and the body several kilometres away.
Maybe we haven't found a single stone worth turning over, he thought. What do we do if we find that Stig Gustafson is not worth following up?
He thought of the handcuffs. Of Louise Akerblom's constant smile. Of the happy family that had been destroyed. But was it the image that had collapsed? Or was it the reality? Pastor Tureson got into the car. He had tears in his eyes. Wallander immediately felt a lump in his throat.
"We've found her at an empty house some way outside of Ystad. I can't tell you any more, for the time being," Wallander said.
"How did she die?"
Wallander thought for a moment before replying. "She was shot," he said.
"I have one more question," Tureson said. "Apart from wanting to know who could have carried out such a crazy act. Did she suffer a lot before she died?"
"I don't know yet," Wallander said. "But even if I did know, I would tell her husband that death came very quickly, and hence painlessly."
They drew up outside the house. On the way to the
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