Sidetracked - By Henning Mankell & Steven T. Murray Page 0,93
try and suffocate himself. That’s one example.”
“That’ll do,” said Wallander, trying to discourage him.
“Ekholm wanted me to give you the book when I’ve read it,” said Hansson.
“I bet he did,” said Wallander. “But I really don’t have the time. Or the inclination.”
Wallander made himself a sandwich in the canteen and took it with him. As he ate it in the car, he wondered whether he should call Linda. But he decided not to. It was still too early.
He arrived in Malmö at around 8.30 a.m. The summer calm had already started to descend on the countryside. The traffic on the roads that intersected the motorway into Malmö was lighter than usual. He headed towards Rosengård and pulled up outside the block of flats he had visited the day before. He turned off the engine, wondering why he had come back so soon. They had decided to investigate Björn Fredman’s life. Besides, it was necessary that he meet the absent daughter. The little boy was less important.
He found a dirty petrol receipt in the glove compartment and took out a pen. To his great irritation he saw that it had leaked ink around the breast pocket where he kept it. The spot was half the size of his hand. On the white shirt it looked as if he’d been shot through the heart. The shirt was almost new. Baiba had bought it for him at Christmas after she’d been through his wardrobe and cleaned out the old, worn-out clothes.
His immediate impulse was to return to Ystad and go back to bed. He didn’t know how many shirts he’d had to throw away because he forgot to cap the pen properly before he put it in his pocket. Perhaps he should go and buy a new shirt. But he’d have to wait at least an hour until the shops opened, so he decided against it. He tossed the leaking pen out the window and then looked for another one in the messy glove compartment. He wrote down some key words on the back of the receipt. BF’s friends. Then and now. Unexpected events. He crumpled up the note and was just about to stuff it in his breast pocket when he stopped himself. He got out of the car and took off his jacket. The ink from his shirt pocket hadn’t reached the jacket lining. He went into the building and pushed open the lift door. The broken glass was still there. He got out on the fifth floor and rang the doorbell. There was no sound from inside the flat. Maybe they were still asleep. He waited more than a minute. Then he rang again. The door opened. It was the boy, Stefan. He seemed surprised to see Wallander. He smiled, but his eyes were wary.
“I hope I haven’t come too early,” said Wallander. “I should have called first, of course. But I was in Malmö anyway. I thought I’d pop in.”
It was a flimsy lie, but it was the best he could come up with. The boy let him into the hall. He was dressed in a cut-off T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He was barefoot.
“I’m here by myself,” he said. “My mother went out with my little brother. They were going to Copenhagen.”
“It’s a great day for a trip to Copenhagen,” said Wallander warmly.
“Yes, she likes going there a lot. To get away from it all.”
His words echoed disconsolately in the hall. Wallander thought the boy had sounded strangely unmoved last time when he mentioned the death of his father. They went into the living-room. Wallander laid his jacket on a chair and pointed at the ink spot.
“This happens all the time,” he said.
“It never happens to me,” said the boy, smiling. “I can make some coffee if you want.”
“No thanks.”
They sat down at opposite ends of the table. A blanket and pillow on the sofa indicated that someone had slept there. Wallander glimpsed the neck of an empty wine bottle under a chair. The boy noticed at once that he had seen it. His attention didn’t flag for an instant. Wallander hastily asked himself whether he had the right to question a minor about his father’s death without a relative present. But he didn’t want to pass up this opportunity. And the boy was incredibly mature for 14. Wallander felt as though he was talking to someone his own age. Even Linda, who was several years older, seemed childish in comparison.