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Authors: Henning Mankell
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Svedberg went to get a tray of coffee, and Bjork started the proceedings again.
"Just for once, I'm speechless," was his opening gambit. "Can any of you suggest a plausible explanation?"
Nobody spoke up.
"Wallander," Bjork said, trying another angle, "could you perhaps give us a summary of where we are?"
"I'll give it a shot," Wallander said. "The rest of you can fill in the gaps."
He opened his notebook and leafed through. "Louise Akerblom went missing four days ago," he began. "To be more precise, 98 hours ago. Nobody's seen her since, as far as we know. While we were looking for her, and for her car, a house exploded close to where we think she might be found. We know that the occupant of that house is deceased, and that the house was up for sale. The estate's lawyer lives in Varnamo. He's at a loss to explain what has happened. The house has been empty for more than a year. The new owners have not yet been able to decide whether to sell or to keep it in the family, or rent it. It's possible that some of the heirs might buy out the rest. The lawyer's name is Holmgren, and we've asked our colleagues in Varnamo to discuss the matter with him. At the very least, we want the names and addresses of all the beneficiaries."
He took a slurp of coffee before continuing.
"The fire broke out at 9 a.m.," he said. "There is evidence to suggest that some form of powerful explosive was used, with a timing device. There is absolutely no reason to suppose the fire was started by natural causes. Holmgren says that there were no gas canisters and the whole house was rewired last year. While the fire was being fought, one of our police dogs sniffed out a human finger some 25 metres from the blaze. It's an index finger or middle finger of a left hand. In all probability a man's. A black man's. The forensic team have run a fine-tooth comb over such parts of the heart of the fire and the immediate area as are accessible, but they have found nothing more. We've run a line search over the whole area, and found nothing. No sign of the car, no sign of Mrs Akerblom. A house has blown up, and we've found a finger belonging to a black man. That's about it."
Bjork made a face. "What do the medics have to say?" he asked.
"Maria Lestadius from the hospital was here," Svedberg said. "She says we should get onto the forensic lab right away. She claims she's not competent to read fingers."
Bjork squirmed on his chair. "Say that again," he said. "Read fingers?"
"That's the way she put it." Svedberg seemed resigned. It was a well-known peculiarity of Bjork's, picking on inessentials.
Bjork thumped the table almost absentmindedly. "This is awful," he said. "To put it bluntly, we don't know anything at all. Hasn't Akerblom been able to give us any pointers?"
Wallander made up his mind there and then to say nothing about the handcuffs, not for now. He was afraid it might take them in directions that were of less than immediate significance. Besides, he was not persuaded that the handcuffs had any connection with her disappearance.
"Nothing at all," he said. "I think the Akerbloms were the happiest family in the whole of Sweden."
"Might she have gone over the top, from a religious point of view? We're always reading about those crazy sects."
"You can hardly call the Methodists a crazy sect," Wallander said. "It's one of our oldest free churches. I have to admit I'm not 100 per cent clear just what they stand for."
"We'll have to look into that," Bjork said. "What do you think we should do now?"
"Let's hope for what tomorrow might bring," Martinsson said. "We may get some calls."
"I've arranged extra personnel to man the telephones," Bjork said. "Anything else we should be doing?"
"Let's face it," Wallander said, "we have nothing to go on. We have a finger. That means that somewhere there's a black man missing a finger on his left hand. That means in turn he needs help from a doctor or a hospital. If he hasn't shown up already, he will do sooner
"Just for once, I'm speechless," was his opening gambit. "Can any of you suggest a plausible explanation?"
Nobody spoke up.
"Wallander," Bjork said, trying another angle, "could you perhaps give us a summary of where we are?"
"I'll give it a shot," Wallander said. "The rest of you can fill in the gaps."
He opened his notebook and leafed through. "Louise Akerblom went missing four days ago," he began. "To be more precise, 98 hours ago. Nobody's seen her since, as far as we know. While we were looking for her, and for her car, a house exploded close to where we think she might be found. We know that the occupant of that house is deceased, and that the house was up for sale. The estate's lawyer lives in Varnamo. He's at a loss to explain what has happened. The house has been empty for more than a year. The new owners have not yet been able to decide whether to sell or to keep it in the family, or rent it. It's possible that some of the heirs might buy out the rest. The lawyer's name is Holmgren, and we've asked our colleagues in Varnamo to discuss the matter with him. At the very least, we want the names and addresses of all the beneficiaries."
He took a slurp of coffee before continuing.
"The fire broke out at 9 a.m.," he said. "There is evidence to suggest that some form of powerful explosive was used, with a timing device. There is absolutely no reason to suppose the fire was started by natural causes. Holmgren says that there were no gas canisters and the whole house was rewired last year. While the fire was being fought, one of our police dogs sniffed out a human finger some 25 metres from the blaze. It's an index finger or middle finger of a left hand. In all probability a man's. A black man's. The forensic team have run a fine-tooth comb over such parts of the heart of the fire and the immediate area as are accessible, but they have found nothing more. We've run a line search over the whole area, and found nothing. No sign of the car, no sign of Mrs Akerblom. A house has blown up, and we've found a finger belonging to a black man. That's about it."
Bjork made a face. "What do the medics have to say?" he asked.
"Maria Lestadius from the hospital was here," Svedberg said. "She says we should get onto the forensic lab right away. She claims she's not competent to read fingers."
Bjork squirmed on his chair. "Say that again," he said. "Read fingers?"
"That's the way she put it." Svedberg seemed resigned. It was a well-known peculiarity of Bjork's, picking on inessentials.
Bjork thumped the table almost absentmindedly. "This is awful," he said. "To put it bluntly, we don't know anything at all. Hasn't Akerblom been able to give us any pointers?"
Wallander made up his mind there and then to say nothing about the handcuffs, not for now. He was afraid it might take them in directions that were of less than immediate significance. Besides, he was not persuaded that the handcuffs had any connection with her disappearance.
"Nothing at all," he said. "I think the Akerbloms were the happiest family in the whole of Sweden."
"Might she have gone over the top, from a religious point of view? We're always reading about those crazy sects."
"You can hardly call the Methodists a crazy sect," Wallander said. "It's one of our oldest free churches. I have to admit I'm not 100 per cent clear just what they stand for."
"We'll have to look into that," Bjork said. "What do you think we should do now?"
"Let's hope for what tomorrow might bring," Martinsson said. "We may get some calls."
"I've arranged extra personnel to man the telephones," Bjork said. "Anything else we should be doing?"
"Let's face it," Wallander said, "we have nothing to go on. We have a finger. That means that somewhere there's a black man missing a finger on his left hand. That means in turn he needs help from a doctor or a hospital. If he hasn't shown up already, he will do sooner
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