Read Online Faceless Killers by Henning Mankell - Free Book Online

visitor's chair with worn-out springs.
"You ought to get a new chair," he said.
    "There's no money for one," said Rydberg, putting away his comb in a desk drawer.
Wallander set his cup on the floor beside his chair.
    "I woke up so damned early this morning," he said. "I drove out and talked to the Nyströms. The old man was waiting in a bush and took a shot at me with a shotgun."
Rydberg pointed at his cheek.
    "Not from buckshot," said Wallander. "I hit the deck. He claimed he had a permit for the gun. Who the hell knows?"
"Did they have anything new to say?"
    "Not one thing. Nothing out of the ordinary. No money, nothing. Provided they're not lying, of course."
"Why would they be lying?"
"No, why would they?"
    Rydberg took a slurp of coffee and made a face. "Did you know that policemen are unusually susceptible to stomach cancer?" he asked.
"I didn't know that."
"If it's true, it's because of all the lousy coffee we drink." "But we solve our cases over our mugs of coffee." "Like now?"
    Wallander shook his head. "What do we really have to go on? Nothing."
    "You're too impatient, Kurt." Rydberg looked at him while he stroked his nose. "You'll have to excuse me if I seem like a schoolteacher," he went on. "But in this case I think we have to be patient."
    They went over the progress of the investigation again. The technicians had taken fingerprints from the scene of the crime and were checking them against the national centralised records. Hansson was busy investigating the location of all known criminals with records of assault on old people, to find out whether they were in prison or had alibis. They would continue questioning the residents of Lunnarp, and perhaps the questionnaire they sent out would produce something. Both Rydberg and Wallander knew that the police in Ystad carried out their work precisely and methodically. Sooner or later something would turn up. A trace, a clue. It was just a matter of waiting. Of working methodically and waiting.
    "The motive," Wallander persisted. "If the motive isn't money, or the rumour of money hidden away, then what is it? The noose? You must have thought the same thing I did. This crime has revenge or hate in it. Or both."
    "Let's imagine a pair of suitably desperate robbers," said Rydberg. "Let's assume that they were convinced that Lövgren had money squirreled away. Let's assume that they were sufficiently indifferent to human life. Then torture isn't out of the question."
"Who would be that desperate?"
    "You know as well as I do that there are plenty of drugs that create such a dependency that people are ready to do anything."
    Wallander did know that. He had seen the accelerating violence first hand, and narcotics trafficking and drug dependency almost always lurked in the background. Even though Ystad's police district was seldom hit by this increasing violence, he harboured no illusions: it was steadily creeping up on them.
    There were no protected zones any more. An insignificant little village like Lunnarp was confirmation of that fact. He sat up straight in the uncomfortable chair.
"What are we going to do?" he said.
"You're the boss," replied Rydberg.
"I want to hear what you think."
    Rydberg got up and went over to the window. With one finger he felt the soil in a flowerpot. It was dry.
    "If you want to know what I think, I'll tell you. But you should know that I'm by no means sure that I'm on the right track. I think that no matter what we decide to do, there's going to be a big fuss. But maybe it would be a good idea to keep quiet for a few days anyway. There are plenty of things to investigate."
"Like what?"
    "Did the Lövgrens have any foreign acquaintances?" "I asked about that this morning. They may have known some Danes." "There, you see."
"It couldn't have been Danish campers, could it?"
    "Why not? No matter what, we'll have to check it out. And there are more people than just the neighbours to question. If I understood you correctly yesterday, the Lövgrens had