a rather broad characterisation."
"I mean it."
"Falk was like that?"
"Yes. But not always. He could be generous. For example, he always paid me more than he had to. But you could never predict his moods."
"He had been married and had children."
"We never talked about his family. It was only after about a year of working with him that I learned he had one."
"Did he have any interests outside his work?"
"None that I knew of."
"Any friends?"
"He had some friends that he corresponded with via e-mail. I never saw him get so much as a postcard through the post."
"How can you know that if you were never at his office?"
She made a little gesture of applause. "Good question. He used my address for his post, as it happens. But nothing was ever addressed to him."
Wallander frowned.
"This is a bit confusing. He used your address, but no post, no bills, no letters ever actually came for him?"
"He got junk mail, but that's all."
"He must have had another postal address as well, then."
"Probably, but in that case I don't know what it was."
Wallander thought about Falk's two flats. There had been nothing in the office at Runnerstr枚ms Torg, but he also could not remember seeing any post at Apelbergsgatan.
"We'll have to look into this," he said. "Falk comes across as strangely secretive."
"Some people don't like getting mail, while others love the sound of another letter coming through the letter box."
I'm going too fast, Wallander thought. First we have to see what's in his computer. If he had a life, that's surely where we'll find it.
She poured herself more wine and asked him if he had changed his mind. Wallander shook his head.
"You said you were close. Did you ever visit him at home?"
"No."
That answer came a little too quickly, Wallander thought. The question was whether there hadn't been something between Falk and his female assistant after all.
It was 9 p.m. The fire had burned down to glowing embers.
"I take it there's been no post for him in the past few days?"
"No, nothing."
"And how would you sum up everything that's happened?"
"I always thought that Tynnes would become an old man. It can only have been an accident."
"You don't think he could have had some illness you didn't know about?"
"Yes, of course that's possible. But I don't think so."
Wallander wondered if he should tell her about the disappearance of Falk's body. But he decided to wait. He switched tack again.
"There was a blueprint of a power substation on his desk. Do you know anything about that?"
"I don't think I would know what one is."
"It's a structure just outside Ystad belonging to Sydkraft Power."
She thought hard. "He did work for Sydkraft some years ago," she said. "But I wasn't involved."
Wallander had a thought. "I'd like you to make a list of all the jobs he had over the past two years," he said. "Those he worked on alone and those you worked on together."
"Tynnes may have had projects I didn't know about."
"I'll talk to his accountant," Wallander said. "He must have given him the information. But I'd be grateful if I could see your list."
"Straight away?"
"Tomorrow is fine."
She got up and stirred the embers. Wallander tried to compose a personal ad in his head that would tempt Siv Eriksson to reply. She returned to her chair.
"Are you hungry?"
"No. I should get going."
"It doesn't seem as if my answers have helped you."
"I know more about Tynnes Falk than I did before I came. Police work requires patience."
He had no more questions and knew he should leave. Finally, he got to his feet.
"I'll get in touch tomorrow," he said. "Do you think you could fax me the list of clients to the police station?"
"How about an e-mail attachment?"
"That would be fine as well, though I have no idea how to download those or even what address I have."
"Let me find out."
Wallander put on his coat. "Did Falk ever discuss mink farming?" he said.
"Why on earth would he?" she said.
"Just wondering."
She opened the front door. Wallander felt a strong urge to stay.
"It was a great lecture," she said. "But you were very nervous."
"That's par for the course when you're on your own talking to so many women."
They said goodbye. Wallander walked down the stairs. Just before he opened the door to the street his phone rang. It was Nyberg.
"How fast can you get here?"
"Pretty fast," Wallander said. "Why do you ask?"
"You'd better come now."
Nyberg hung up. Wallander's heart was beating faster. Nyberg would only call if it really mattered.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It took