Read Online Faceless Killers by Henning Mankell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Henning Mankell
Tags: Fiction, General, detective, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Mystery, Police, Political, Hard-Boiled, Fiction - Mystery, Police Procedural, Mystery & Detective - General, Swedish (Language) Contemporary Fiction, Kurt (Fictitious character), Wallander
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a big family."
Wallander realised that Rydberg was right. There were investigative reasons to keep quiet about the fact that the police were searching for a person or persons with foreign connections.
"What do we know about foreigners who have committed crimes in Sweden?" he asked. "Do the national police have special files on that?"
"There are files on everything" Rydberg replied. "Put someone in front of a computer and link up to the central criminal database, and maybe we'll find something."
Wallander stood up.
Rydberg looked at him quizzically. "Aren't you going to ask about the noose?" "I forgot."
"There's supposed to be an old sail maker in Limhamn who knows all about knots. I read about him in a newspaper some time last year. I thought I'd try to track him down. Not because I'm confident anything will come of it. But just in case."
"I want you to come to the meeting first," said Wallander. "Then you can drive over to Limhamn."
At 10 a.m. they were all gathered in Wallander's office.
The run through was very brief. Wallander told them what the woman had said before she died. For the time being, this piece of information was not to be disclosed. No-one seemed to have any objections.
Martinsson was put on the computer to search for foreign criminals. The officers who were going to continue with the questioning in Lunnarp went on their way. Wallander assigned Svedberg to concentrate on the young Polish family, who were presumably in the country illegally. He wanted to know why they were living in Lunnarp. Rydberg left for Limhamn to look for the sail maker.
When Wallander was alone in his office, he stood for a while looking at the map on the wall. Where had the killers come from? Which way did they go afterwards?
He sat down at his desk and asked Ebba to start putting through calls. For more than an hour he spoke with various reporters. But there was no word from the girl from the local radio station.
A while later Norén knocked on the door.
"I thought you were going to Lunnarp," Wallander said, surprised.
"I was," said Norén. "But I just thought of something."
Norén sat on the edge of a chair, since he was wet. It had started to rain. The temperature had now risen to 1° C.
"This might not mean anything," said Norén. "It just crossed my mind."
"Most things mean something," said Wallander.
"You remember that horse?" asked Norén.
"Sure."
"You told me to give it some hay." "And water."
"Hay and water. But I never did." Wallander wrinkled his brow. "Why not?" "The horse already had hay. Water too." Wallander sat in silence for a moment, looking at Norén. "Go on," he said. "You're getting at something." Norén shrugged his shoulders.
"We had a horse when I was growing up," he said. "When the horse was in its stall and was given hay, it would eat all of it. I mean that someone must have given the horse some hay. Maybe just an hour or so before we got there."
Wallander reached for the phone.
"If you're thinking of calling Nyström, don't bother," said Norén.
Wallander let his hand drop.
"I talked to him before I came here. And he hadn't given the horse any hay."
"Dead men don't feed their horses," said Wallander. "Who did?" Norén stood up. "It seems weird," he said. "First they kill a man. Then they put a noose on somebody else. And then they go out to the stable and give the horse some hay. Who the hell would do anything that weird?"
"You're right," said Wallander. "Who would do that?"
"It might not mean anything," said Norén.
"Or maybe it does," replied Wallander. "It was good of you to tell me."
Norén said goodbye and left.
Wallander sat and thought about what he had just heard. His hunch had been correct. There was something about that horse.
His thoughts were interrupted by the telephone. Another reporter who wanted to talk with him. At 12.45 p«m. he left the police station. He had to visit a friend he hadn't seen in many, many years.
CHAPTER 5
Kurt Wallander turned off the E65 where a sign
Wallander realised that Rydberg was right. There were investigative reasons to keep quiet about the fact that the police were searching for a person or persons with foreign connections.
"What do we know about foreigners who have committed crimes in Sweden?" he asked. "Do the national police have special files on that?"
"There are files on everything" Rydberg replied. "Put someone in front of a computer and link up to the central criminal database, and maybe we'll find something."
Wallander stood up.
Rydberg looked at him quizzically. "Aren't you going to ask about the noose?" "I forgot."
"There's supposed to be an old sail maker in Limhamn who knows all about knots. I read about him in a newspaper some time last year. I thought I'd try to track him down. Not because I'm confident anything will come of it. But just in case."
"I want you to come to the meeting first," said Wallander. "Then you can drive over to Limhamn."
At 10 a.m. they were all gathered in Wallander's office.
The run through was very brief. Wallander told them what the woman had said before she died. For the time being, this piece of information was not to be disclosed. No-one seemed to have any objections.
Martinsson was put on the computer to search for foreign criminals. The officers who were going to continue with the questioning in Lunnarp went on their way. Wallander assigned Svedberg to concentrate on the young Polish family, who were presumably in the country illegally. He wanted to know why they were living in Lunnarp. Rydberg left for Limhamn to look for the sail maker.
When Wallander was alone in his office, he stood for a while looking at the map on the wall. Where had the killers come from? Which way did they go afterwards?
He sat down at his desk and asked Ebba to start putting through calls. For more than an hour he spoke with various reporters. But there was no word from the girl from the local radio station.
A while later Norén knocked on the door.
"I thought you were going to Lunnarp," Wallander said, surprised.
"I was," said Norén. "But I just thought of something."
Norén sat on the edge of a chair, since he was wet. It had started to rain. The temperature had now risen to 1° C.
"This might not mean anything," said Norén. "It just crossed my mind."
"Most things mean something," said Wallander.
"You remember that horse?" asked Norén.
"Sure."
"You told me to give it some hay." "And water."
"Hay and water. But I never did." Wallander wrinkled his brow. "Why not?" "The horse already had hay. Water too." Wallander sat in silence for a moment, looking at Norén. "Go on," he said. "You're getting at something." Norén shrugged his shoulders.
"We had a horse when I was growing up," he said. "When the horse was in its stall and was given hay, it would eat all of it. I mean that someone must have given the horse some hay. Maybe just an hour or so before we got there."
Wallander reached for the phone.
"If you're thinking of calling Nyström, don't bother," said Norén.
Wallander let his hand drop.
"I talked to him before I came here. And he hadn't given the horse any hay."
"Dead men don't feed their horses," said Wallander. "Who did?" Norén stood up. "It seems weird," he said. "First they kill a man. Then they put a noose on somebody else. And then they go out to the stable and give the horse some hay. Who the hell would do anything that weird?"
"You're right," said Wallander. "Who would do that?"
"It might not mean anything," said Norén.
"Or maybe it does," replied Wallander. "It was good of you to tell me."
Norén said goodbye and left.
Wallander sat and thought about what he had just heard. His hunch had been correct. There was something about that horse.
His thoughts were interrupted by the telephone. Another reporter who wanted to talk with him. At 12.45 p«m. he left the police station. He had to visit a friend he hadn't seen in many, many years.
CHAPTER 5
Kurt Wallander turned off the E65 where a sign
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