Read Online An Event in Autumn: A Kurt Wallander Mystery by Henning Mankell - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Henning Mankell
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As you say, my brothers and sister are also dead. I’ve no idea who else might be able to help you.”
Wallander stood up. He shook hands with the two women. Then he and Linda left the apartment.
When they came out into the street below, she stood in front of him.
“I don’t want a dad who starts drooling at the sight of a pretty young girl who is younger than I am.”
Wallander reacted vehemently.
“What are you trying to suggest? I didn’t drool. I thought she was pretty, yes. But don’t try to tell me that I did anything improper. If you do, you can take the train back to Ystad. And you can move out of my apartment and live somewhere else.”
Wallander strode off. She didn’t catch up with him until he reached the car. She stood in front of him again.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I don’t want you to tell me how to behave. I don’t want you forcing me to be somebody I’m not.”
“I’ve said I’m sorry.”
“I heard you.”
Linda wanted to say something else, but Wallander held up his hand. That was enough. There was no need to say any more.
They drove back to Ystad. They didn’t start talking again until after they had passed Svaneholm. Linda agreed with him that, despite everything, something must have happened during the years when Ludvig Hansson was living alone on his farm.
Wallander tried hard to envisage what it might have been, but he could see nothing. Only that hand sticking up out of the ground.
The wind was even stronger now. It struck him that winter was just around the corner.
CHAPTER 15
The following day, Friday, November 8, Wallander woke up early. He was sweaty. He tried to remember what he had been dreaming about—it was something to do with Linda, perhaps a rerun of the confrontation they had had the previous day. But his memory was empty. The dream had closed all the doors surrounding it.
It was ten minutes to five. He lay there in the darkness. The rain was pounding against his bedroom window. He tried to go back to sleep, but failed. After tossing and turning until six o’clock, he got up. He paused outside Linda’s door: she was asleep, snoring softly.
He made some coffee and sat down in the kitchen. The rain was coming and going. Without really thinking about it, he decided to begin his working day by makinganother visit to the property where they had found the skeleton. He had no idea what he hoped to gain by doing so, but he often returned to crime scenes, not least to reassess his first impressions.
He left Ystad half an hour later, and when he arrived at the house in Löderup it wasn’t yet light. The police tape was still in place, cordoning off the scene. He walked slowly around the house and garden. All the time he was looking out for something he hadn’t noticed before. He had no idea what that might be. Something that didn’t fit in, something that stood out. At the same time he tried to imagine a possible sequence of events.
Once upon a time a woman lived here, but never left the place. Yet somebody must have wondered what had happened to her. And it is obvious that nobody has ever been here, looking for her. Nobody has suspected anything that has led to the police investigating this property
.
He paused next to the grave, which was now covered by a dirty tarpaulin.
Why was the body buried just here? The garden is large. Somebody must have thought about alternatives, and made a decision. Here, just here, not anywhere else
.
Wallander started walking again, but stored away in his memory the questions he had formulated. He could hear a tractor in the background. A lone red kite was soaring up above, then swooped down onto one of the fields that surrounded the property. He went back to the grave, and looked around. He suddenly noticed aplace next to some currant bushes. At first he didn’t know what had attracted his attention: it was something to do with the relationship of the bushes to one another. A characteristic of the
Wallander stood up. He shook hands with the two women. Then he and Linda left the apartment.
When they came out into the street below, she stood in front of him.
“I don’t want a dad who starts drooling at the sight of a pretty young girl who is younger than I am.”
Wallander reacted vehemently.
“What are you trying to suggest? I didn’t drool. I thought she was pretty, yes. But don’t try to tell me that I did anything improper. If you do, you can take the train back to Ystad. And you can move out of my apartment and live somewhere else.”
Wallander strode off. She didn’t catch up with him until he reached the car. She stood in front of him again.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I don’t want you to tell me how to behave. I don’t want you forcing me to be somebody I’m not.”
“I’ve said I’m sorry.”
“I heard you.”
Linda wanted to say something else, but Wallander held up his hand. That was enough. There was no need to say any more.
They drove back to Ystad. They didn’t start talking again until after they had passed Svaneholm. Linda agreed with him that, despite everything, something must have happened during the years when Ludvig Hansson was living alone on his farm.
Wallander tried hard to envisage what it might have been, but he could see nothing. Only that hand sticking up out of the ground.
The wind was even stronger now. It struck him that winter was just around the corner.
CHAPTER 15
The following day, Friday, November 8, Wallander woke up early. He was sweaty. He tried to remember what he had been dreaming about—it was something to do with Linda, perhaps a rerun of the confrontation they had had the previous day. But his memory was empty. The dream had closed all the doors surrounding it.
It was ten minutes to five. He lay there in the darkness. The rain was pounding against his bedroom window. He tried to go back to sleep, but failed. After tossing and turning until six o’clock, he got up. He paused outside Linda’s door: she was asleep, snoring softly.
He made some coffee and sat down in the kitchen. The rain was coming and going. Without really thinking about it, he decided to begin his working day by makinganother visit to the property where they had found the skeleton. He had no idea what he hoped to gain by doing so, but he often returned to crime scenes, not least to reassess his first impressions.
He left Ystad half an hour later, and when he arrived at the house in Löderup it wasn’t yet light. The police tape was still in place, cordoning off the scene. He walked slowly around the house and garden. All the time he was looking out for something he hadn’t noticed before. He had no idea what that might be. Something that didn’t fit in, something that stood out. At the same time he tried to imagine a possible sequence of events.
Once upon a time a woman lived here, but never left the place. Yet somebody must have wondered what had happened to her. And it is obvious that nobody has ever been here, looking for her. Nobody has suspected anything that has led to the police investigating this property
.
He paused next to the grave, which was now covered by a dirty tarpaulin.
Why was the body buried just here? The garden is large. Somebody must have thought about alternatives, and made a decision. Here, just here, not anywhere else
.
Wallander started walking again, but stored away in his memory the questions he had formulated. He could hear a tractor in the background. A lone red kite was soaring up above, then swooped down onto one of the fields that surrounded the property. He went back to the grave, and looked around. He suddenly noticed aplace next to some currant bushes. At first he didn’t know what had attracted his attention: it was something to do with the relationship of the bushes to one another. A characteristic of the
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