remember?'
'No,' she said, 'but I'm sure he was talking to a woman.'
That surprised Wallander.
'How can you be sure of that?'
'You can hear it,' she said firmly.
'You mean that Hålén was calling to set up a time to meet with a woman?'
'What would be strange about that? He was old, of course, but that doesn't matter.'
Wallander nodded. Of course she was right. And if she was right he had found out something valuable. There had been a woman in Hålén's life after all.
'Good,' he said. 'Do you remember anything else?'
Before she answered, a customer walked in. Wallander waited. There were two little girls who took a great deal of care in selecting two bags of sweets, which they then paid for with an endless series of five-öre pieces.
'That woman may have had a name that started with A,' she said.
'He always spoke very quietly. I said that earlier. But her name may have been Anna. Or a double name. Something with A.'
'Are you sure of this?'
'No,' she said. 'But I think so.'
Wallander only had one more question.
'Did he always come in alone?'
'Yes, always.'
'You've been a great help,' he said.
'May I ask why you need this information?'
'Unfortunately not,' Wallander said. 'We ask questions, but we can't always tell you why.'
'Maybe I should join the police,' she said. 'I'm not planning to work in this shop for the rest of my life.'
Wallander leaned over the counter and wrote down his telephone number on a small notepad next to the cash register.
'Call me sometime,' he said. 'We can get together and I can tell you what it's like to be a police officer. Anyway, I live right round the corner.'
'Wallander,' she said. 'Is that what it is?'
'Kurt Wallander.'
'My name is Maria. But don't get any ideas. I already have a boyfriend.'
'I won't,' Wallander said and smiled.
Then he left.
A boyfriend can always be overcome, he thought as he stepped into the street. And stopped short. What would happen if she really called him? If she called while Mona was over? He asked himself what he had done. At the same time he couldn't help but feel a certain satisfaction.
Mona deserved it. That he gave his phone number to someone named Maria who was very beautiful.
As if Wallander was being punished for the mere thought of sinning, the rain started to pour down at that moment. He was drenched by the time he got home. He laid the wet cigarette packets on the kitchen table and stripped off all his clothes. Maria should have been here now to towel me off, he thought. And Mona can cut hair and take her damn coffee break.
He put on his dressing gown and wrote down in his notepad what
Maria had said. So Hålén had called a woman every Wednesday. A woman whose name started with the letter A. In all likelihood it was her first name. The question now was simply what this meant, other than that the image of the lonely old man had been shattered.
Wallander sat at the kitchen table and read through what he had written the day before. Suddenly he was struck by a thought. There should be a sailors' register somewhere. Someone who could tell him about Hålén's many years at sea, which vessels he had worked on.
I know someone who could help me, Wallander thought. Helena.
She works for a shipping company. At the very least she can tell me where I can look. If she doesn't hang up on me when I call.
It was not yet eleven. Wallander could see through the kitchen window that the downpour was over. Helena didn't normally take her lunch break until half past twelve. That meant that he would be able to get hold of her before she left.
He got dressed and took the bus down to the Central Station. The shipping company that Helena worked for was in the harbour district.
He walked in through the gates. The receptionist nodded at him in recognition.
'Is Helena in?' he asked.
'She's on the phone. But you can go on up. You know where her office is.'
It was not without a feeling of dread that Wallander made his ascent to the first floor. Helena
'No,' she said, 'but I'm sure he was talking to a woman.'
That surprised Wallander.
'How can you be sure of that?'
'You can hear it,' she said firmly.
'You mean that Hålén was calling to set up a time to meet with a woman?'
'What would be strange about that? He was old, of course, but that doesn't matter.'
Wallander nodded. Of course she was right. And if she was right he had found out something valuable. There had been a woman in Hålén's life after all.
'Good,' he said. 'Do you remember anything else?'
Before she answered, a customer walked in. Wallander waited. There were two little girls who took a great deal of care in selecting two bags of sweets, which they then paid for with an endless series of five-öre pieces.
'That woman may have had a name that started with A,' she said.
'He always spoke very quietly. I said that earlier. But her name may have been Anna. Or a double name. Something with A.'
'Are you sure of this?'
'No,' she said. 'But I think so.'
Wallander only had one more question.
'Did he always come in alone?'
'Yes, always.'
'You've been a great help,' he said.
'May I ask why you need this information?'
'Unfortunately not,' Wallander said. 'We ask questions, but we can't always tell you why.'
'Maybe I should join the police,' she said. 'I'm not planning to work in this shop for the rest of my life.'
Wallander leaned over the counter and wrote down his telephone number on a small notepad next to the cash register.
'Call me sometime,' he said. 'We can get together and I can tell you what it's like to be a police officer. Anyway, I live right round the corner.'
'Wallander,' she said. 'Is that what it is?'
'Kurt Wallander.'
'My name is Maria. But don't get any ideas. I already have a boyfriend.'
'I won't,' Wallander said and smiled.
Then he left.
A boyfriend can always be overcome, he thought as he stepped into the street. And stopped short. What would happen if she really called him? If she called while Mona was over? He asked himself what he had done. At the same time he couldn't help but feel a certain satisfaction.
Mona deserved it. That he gave his phone number to someone named Maria who was very beautiful.
As if Wallander was being punished for the mere thought of sinning, the rain started to pour down at that moment. He was drenched by the time he got home. He laid the wet cigarette packets on the kitchen table and stripped off all his clothes. Maria should have been here now to towel me off, he thought. And Mona can cut hair and take her damn coffee break.
He put on his dressing gown and wrote down in his notepad what
Maria had said. So Hålén had called a woman every Wednesday. A woman whose name started with the letter A. In all likelihood it was her first name. The question now was simply what this meant, other than that the image of the lonely old man had been shattered.
Wallander sat at the kitchen table and read through what he had written the day before. Suddenly he was struck by a thought. There should be a sailors' register somewhere. Someone who could tell him about Hålén's many years at sea, which vessels he had worked on.
I know someone who could help me, Wallander thought. Helena.
She works for a shipping company. At the very least she can tell me where I can look. If she doesn't hang up on me when I call.
It was not yet eleven. Wallander could see through the kitchen window that the downpour was over. Helena didn't normally take her lunch break until half past twelve. That meant that he would be able to get hold of her before she left.
He got dressed and took the bus down to the Central Station. The shipping company that Helena worked for was in the harbour district.
He walked in through the gates. The receptionist nodded at him in recognition.
'Is Helena in?' he asked.
'She's on the phone. But you can go on up. You know where her office is.'
It was not without a feeling of dread that Wallander made his ascent to the first floor. Helena
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