Sidetracked - By Henning Mankell & Steven T. Murray Page 0,164

to Malmö. Then Wallander took the hydrofoil to Copenhagen. He watched the water racing past the sides of the boat. Distracted, he ordered coffee and cognac. In two hours Baiba’s plane would be landing. Something close to panic gripped him. He suddenly wished that the crossing to Copenhagen would take much longer. But when she arrived at the airport he was waiting for her.

Not until then did the image of Louise Fredman, dead and broken, finally disappear from his mind.

Skåne

16–17 September 1994

EPILOGUE

On Friday, 16 September, autumn suddenly rolled in to Skåne. Kurt Wallander woke up early that morning. His eyes flew open in the dark, as if he had been cast violently out of a dream. He lay still and tried to remember. But there was only the echo of something that was gone and would never return. He turned his head and looked at the clock next to the bed. The fluorescent hands showed 4.45 a.m. He turned over on his side to go back to sleep. But the knowledge of what day it was kept him awake.

He got up and went to the kitchen. The streetlight hanging over the street swayed forlornly in the wind. He checked the thermometer and saw that the temperature had dropped. It was 7°C. He smiled at the thought that tomorrow night he would be in Rome where it was still warm. He sat at the kitchen table and had some coffee, going over the preparations for the trip in his mind. A few days earlier he had finally fixed his father’s studio door. He had also taken a look at his father’s new passport. He had exchanged some money for Italian lire at the bank and had bought traveller’s cheques. He was going to leave work early to pick up the tickets.

Now he had to go to work for one last day before his holiday. He left the flat and went down to his car. He zipped up his jacket and shivered when he got into the driver’s seat. On the way to the station he thought about this morning’s meeting.

It was exactly 8 a.m. when he knocked on the door of Lisa Holgersson’s office and opened the door. She nodded and asked him to have a seat. She had been serving as their new chief for only three weeks, but Wallander thought she had already set her stamp on the atmosphere of the department.

Many had been sceptical about a woman who came from a police district in Småland. And Wallander was surrounded by colleagues who still believed that women weren’t even suited to be police officers. How could one be their chief? But Lisa Holgersson had soon demonstrated how capable she was. Wallander was impressed by her integrity, her fearlessness and the clear presentations she gave, no matter what the topic.

The day before she had arranged a meeting. Now Wallander sat in her visitor’s chair wondering what she wanted.

“You’re going on holiday,” she said. “I heard you were going to Italy with your father.”

“It’s his dream,” Wallander said. “It may be the last chance we get. He’s 80.”

“My father is 85,” she said. “Sometimes his mind is crystal clear. Sometimes he doesn’t recognise me. But I’ve come to terms with the fact that you never escape your parents. The roles are simply reversed. You become your parents’ parent.”

“Exactly,” Wallander replied.

She moved some papers on her desk.

“I don’t have a specific agenda for this meeting,” she said. “But I realised that I’ve never had a proper chance to thank you for your work this summer. It was model detective work.”

Wallander gave her a surprised look. Was she serious?

“That’s putting it a little strongly,” he said. “I made a lot of mistakes. I let the whole investigation be sidetracked. It could have failed miserably.”

“The ability to lead an investigation often means knowing when to shift tactics,” she said. “To look in a direction you may have just ruled out. The investigation was a model in many ways, especially because of your tenacity and your willingness to think along unconventional lines. I want you to know this. I’ve heard it said that the national police chief has expressed his satisfaction. I think you’ll be receiving an invitation to hold seminars about the investigation at the police academy.”

“I can’t do that,” he said. “Ask someone else. I can’t speak to people I don’t know.”

“We’ll take this up again after you get back,” she said, smiling. “Right now the most important thing is that I had