Firewall - By Henning Mankell & Ebba Segerberg Page 0,57
but I can't be sure."
I should have talked to her myself, Wallander thought helplessly. If Eva Persson had been holding something back, I would have seen it.
Höglund seemed to be reading his thoughts.
"I don't have your certainty about these things. I wish I could have given you a better answer."
"We'll get to the bottom of this sooner or later. If the main entrance is closed, you try the back door."
"I've been trying to make sense of it," Höglund said. "But nothing hangs together."
"It will take time," Wallander said. "I wonder if we shouldn't get reinforcements. We don't have the manpower we need, even if we shelve our other duties and concentrate on this case."
Höglund looked at him with surprise. "I never thought I'd hear you say that. Usually you insist on us carrying out the investigation alone."
"Maybe I've changed my mind. I just want to make sure we're able to carry out the footwork necessary in this investigation. I'll talk to Lisa about it. If she hasn't already suspended me, that is."
"Persson is sticking to that story as well – that you hit her without provocation."
"Of course she is. If she's lying about everything else she might as well lie about that too."
Wallander got up. He told her in a nutshell about the break-in at Falk's flat.
"Has the body been found?"
"Not as far as I know."
Höglund was still in her chair. "Do you understand any of this?"
"No," Wallander said. "It worries me. Don't forget that a large area of Skåne was left without power."
They walked into the corridor together. Hansson put his head out of his door to say that the police in Växjö had found Persson's father.
"They say he lives in a run-down shack somewhere between Växjö and Vislanda. They're wondering what it is we want to know."
"Nothing for now," Wallander said. "We have more important questions to cover."
They decided to meet again at 1.30 p.m., when Martinsson was back. Wallander went to his office to call the garage. His car was ready. He walked down Frihemsgatan towards Surbrunn's Torg. A gusting wind came and went.
The mechanic's name was Holmlund and he had worked on several of Wallander's cars over the years. He was especially fond of motorcycles. He had a number of teeth missing and spoke with such a strong Skåne accent that Wallander had trouble understanding him. His appearance hadn't changed a bit since he first met him. Wallander still couldn't have said if he was 50 or 60.
"It's going to cost you," Holmlund said and smiled his gap-toothed smile. "But you'll recoup some of the cost if you sell the car pretty soon."
When Wallander drove away, the erratic noise from the engine was gone. The thought of a new car excited him. The only question was would he stick with a Peugeot or try a new make. He decided to ask Hansson, who knew as much about cars as horse racing.
Wallander drove to a fast-food place by Österleden and had a meal. He tried to read a newspaper, but he couldn't concentrate on it His thoughts kept returning to the case. He had been trying to find a new focal point and had considered the blackout as a candidate. Then they wouldn't be looking only at a murder but at a highly calculated form of sabotage. But what if he tried to focus his inquiries around something else, such as the man who had appeared at the restaurant? He had made Hökberg switch places. He had a forged identity. And he was in a photograph in Falk's living room – a photograph that had since been stolen. Wallander cursed himself for not taking it himself, as he had been intending. Then he could have asked István to identify him.
Wallander put down his fork and called Nyberg's mobile number. He was about to hang up when Nyberg answered.
"Have you by any chance come across a group photo?" he asked. "Something with a large group of men?"
"I'll ask."
Wallander waited and picked at the tasteless piece of fried fish in front of him.
Nyberg came back. "We have a photo of three men holding up a salmon for the camera. A fishing trip in Norway from 1983."
"Is that it?"
"Yes. How would you know that he would have a photograph like that anyway?"
He's not stupid, Wallander thought. Luckily he had prepared an answer ahead of time.
"I don't know. But I'm trying to find as many pictures as I can of Falk's acquaintances."