Sidetracked - By Henning Mankell & Steven T. Murray Page 0,129

the dock. He wrote numbers next to his marks. He waved over Höglund, Martinsson and Svedberg, who had arrived last, wearing a dirty sun hat instead of his cap for a change. He pointed at the map on his knee.

“Here we have his movements,” he said. “And the murder sites. Like everything else they form a pattern.”

“A road,” Svedberg said. “With Ystad and Helsingborg as the end points. The scalp murderer on the southern plain.”

“That isn’t funny,” Martinsson snapped.

“I’m not trying to be funny,” Svedberg protested. “It’s how it is.”

“Looking at the big picture, you’re probably right,” said Wallander. “The area is limited. One murder takes place in Ystad. One murder occurs here, perhaps, we aren’t sure yet, and the body is taken to Ystad. One murder happens just outside Ystad, in Bjäresjö, where the body is also discovered. And then we have Helsingborg.”

“Most of them are concentrated around Ystad,” said Höglund. “Does that mean that the man we’re looking for lives here?”

“With the exception of Fredman the victims were found close to or inside their homes,” said Wallander. “This is the map of the victims, not the murderer.”

“Then Malmö should be marked too,” said Svedberg. “That’s where Fredman lived.”

Wallander circled Malmö. The breeze tugged at the map.

“Now the picture is different,” said Höglund. “We get an angle, not a straight line. Malmö is in the middle.”

“It’s always Fredman who’s different,” said Wallander.

“Maybe we should draw another circle,” said Martinsson. “Around the airport. What do we get then?”

“An area of movement,” said Wallander. “Revolving around Fredman’s murder.”

He knew that they were on their way towards a crucial conclusion.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said. “Fredman lives in Malmö. Together with the man who kills him, either held captive or not, he is driven east in the van. They come here, where Fredman dies. The journey continues to Ystad. The body is dumped in a hole under a tarpaulin in Ystad. Later the van returns west. It’s parked at the airport, about halfway between Malmö and Ystad. There the tracks vanish.”

“There are plenty of ways to get away from Sturup,” said Svedberg. “Taxis, airport buses, rental cars. Another vehicle parked there earlier.”

“So the murderer probably doesn’t live in Ystad,” Wallander said. “Malmö’s a good possibility. But it could just as well be Lund. Or Helsingborg. Or why not Copenhagen?”

“Unless he’s leading us on a wild-goose chase,” Höglund said. “And he really does live in Ystad.”

“That’s possible, of course,” said Wallander, “but I don’t buy it.”

“Which means that we ought to concentrate on Sturup more than we have so far,” Martinsson said.

Wallander nodded. “I believe that the man we’re looking for uses a motorcycle,” he said. “We talked about this before. Witnesses may have seen one outside the house in Helsingborg. Sjösten is working on that right now. Since we’re getting reinforcements this afternoon, we can afford to do a careful examination of the transport options from Sturup. We’re looking for a man who parked the van there on the night of 28 June. And somehow left. Unless he works at the airport.”

“There’s one question we can’t yet answer,” said Svedberg. “And that is: what does this monster look like?”

“We know nothing about his face,” Wallander said. “But we know he’s strong, and a basement window in Helsingborg tells us that he’s thin. We’re dealing with someone in good shape, who goes barefoot.”

“You mentioned Copenhagen just now,” Martinsson said. “Do you think he’s a foreigner?”

“I doubt it,” Wallander replied. “I think we’re dealing with a 100 per cent Swedish serial killer.”

“That’s not much to go on,” said Svedberg. “Haven’t we found a single hair? Does he have light or dark hair?”

“We don’t know. According to Ekholm he probably tries not to attract attention. And we can’t say anything about the way he’s dressed when he commits the murders.”

“What about his age?” asked Höglund.

“His victims have been men in their 70s, except for Fredman. But he’s in good shape, goes barefoot, and may ride a motorcycle, and these facts don’t imply an older man. We just can’t guess.”

“Over 18,” said Svedberg. “If he rides a motorcycle.”

“Can’t we start with Fredman?” asked Höglund. “He differs from the other men, who are considerably older. Maybe we can assume that Fredman and the man who killed him are the same age. Then we’re talking about a man who’s under 50. And there are quite a few of them who are in good shape.”

Wallander gave his colleagues a gloomy look. They were all under 50; Martinsson, the