had better be quick."
"Have you seen a film called The Devil's Advocate, with Al Pacino?"
"Is that what this is about? A film?"
"That's it."
"I'm hanging up."
Now it was Wallander's turn to get angry. "At least answer the question. Have you seen it?"
"Yes, I have," she hissed.
"What's it about?"
"Oh my God! I don't believe this."
"It's about God?"
"In a way. It's about a lawyer who turns out to be the Devil."
"Is that it?"
"Isn't that enough? Why do you need to know this anyway? Are you having nightmares?"
"I'm trying to solve a murder. Why would a 19-year-old girl have a poster of this film on her wall?"
"Probably because she thinks Al Pacino is hot. Or else maybe she worships the Devil. How the hell would I know?"
"Do you have to use that language?"
"Yes."
"Is there anything else to this film?"
"Why don't you see it for yourself? I'm sure it's out on video."
Wallander felt like an idiot. He should have thought of this himself. He could have simply rented the video and not bothered Linda.
"I'm sorry for the interruption," he said.
Her anger had passed.
"It's OK. But I do have to go now."
"I know. Goodbye."
The moment he put the receiver down, the phone rang. He lifted it again with trepidation, fearful of a journalist on the line.
At first he didn't recognise the voice. Then he realised it was Siv Eriksson.
"I hope I'm not catching you in the middle of something," she said.
"Not at all."
"I've been thinking. I've been trying to find something that could help you."
Invite me over, Wallander thought. If you really want to help me. I'm hungry and thirsty and I don't want to sit in this damned flat a minute longer.
"And did you think of anything in particular?"
"Not really. I suppose his wife is the only one who really knew him. Or maybe his children."
Wallander waited to see if she would say anything else.
"I have one memory of him that stands out as unusual. It isn't much. We only knew each other a few years."
"Tell me."
"It was two years ago, in October or the beginning of November. He came here one evening and was very upset. He couldn't hide it. We had a project due, I think it was something for the county. We had a deadline, but I could see that he was very upset and I asked him why. He said he had just seen some teenagers accost an older man who had been a little drunk. When the man tried to brush them away they punched him. He fell and they kicked him as he lay on the pavement."
"Was that it?"
"Yes."
Wallander thought about it. Falk had reacted strongly to a person who was the victim of violence. It was interesting, but he couldn't find a place for it in his picture of the man at the heart of the case.
"Did he intervene in any way?"
"No. It just enraged him."
"What did he say?"
"That the world was chaos. That nothing was worth it any more."
"What was it that wasn't worth it?"
"I don't know. I had a feeling he meant that humankind wasn't worth it any longer. That man's animal nature was taking over, or something like that. When I asked him to explain what he meant he refused, and we never talked about it again."
"How did you interpret his reaction?"
"I felt it was quite natural. Wouldn't you have felt that way?"
Maybe, Wallander thought. But I doubt if I would have reached the same dire conclusion.
Wallander wanted to keep her on the line, but she was bound to see through him.
"I'm glad you called," he said. "Please call me again if you think of anything else. I'll probably call you myself tomorrow."
"I'm doing some programming for a restaurant chain. I'll be in the office all day."
"What will happen with your other projects now?"
"I don't know. I just hope I have enough of a reputation now to survive without Tynnes. If not, I'll have to think of something else."
"Like what?"
She laughed. "Do you need to know for the case?"
"No, I was just curious."
"I might take off and see the world."
Everyone goes away, Wallander thought. In the end it will just be me and all the trash left.
"I've had thoughts like that myself," he said. "But I'm locked in, like most people."
"I'm not locked in," she said cheerfully. "I'm my own woman."
When the conversation was over, Wallander thought about what she had said. "I'm my own woman." She had a point. Just as ?keson and Wid茅n had done, in their way.
Suddenly he felt very pleased with