up," he said. "I just can't put my finger on it."
"Let's put the question another way," Wallander said. "If they haven't left on this unplanned holiday, then what's happened? And who's writing these cards? We know that their cars and their passports are missing."
"I'm obviously mistaken," Martinsson answered. "I was probably influenced by Eva Hillström's anxiety."
"Parents always worry about their children," Wallander said. "If you only knew how many times I've wondered what Linda was up to. Especially when you get postcards from strange places all around the world."
"So what do we do?" Martinsson asked.
"We continue to keep the situation under surveillance," Wallander said. "But let's go over the facts from the beginning, just to make sure we haven't missed anything."
Martinsson summarised the events in his unfailingly clear fashion. Ann-Britt Höglund had once asked Wallander if he realised that Martinsson had learned how to make presentations by observing him. Wallander had scoffed at this, but Höglund had stood her ground. Wallander still didn't know if it was true.
The chain of events was simple enough. Three people, all between the ages of 20 and 23, decided to celebrate Midsummer's Eve together. One of them, Martin Boge, lived in Simrishamn, while the other two, Lena Norman and Astrid Hillström, came from the western part of Ystad. They were old friends and spent a lot of time together. Their parents were all wealthy. Lena Norman was studying at Lund University while the other two had temporary jobs. None of them had ever had any problems with the law or with drugs. Astrid Hillström and Martin Boge still lived at home; Lena Norman lived in halls of residence in Lund. They didn't tell anyone where they were planning to hold their Midsummer's Eve party. Their parents had talked to one another and to their friends but no one seemed to know anything. This was not unusual, since they were often secretive and never divulged their plans to outsiders. At the time of their disappearance, they had two cars at their disposal: a Volvo and a Toyota. These cars disappeared at the same time as their owners, on the afternoon of 21 June. After that no one had seen them again. The first postcard was sent on 26 June from Hamburg, stating their intention to travel through Europe. A couple of weeks later, Astrid Hillström had sent a second postcard from Paris in which she explained that they were on their way south. And now she had apparently sent a third postcard.
Martinsson stopped talking.
Wallander reflected on what he had said. "What could possibly have gone wrong?" he asked.
"I have no idea."
"Is there any indication of anything out of the ordinary in relation to their disappearance?"
"Not really."
Wallander leaned back in his chair. "The only thing we have is Eva Hillström's anxiety," he said. "A worried mother."
"She claims her daughter didn't write the cards."
Wallander nodded. "Does she want us to file a missing persons report?"
"No. She wanted us to do something. That was how she put it: 'You have to do something.'"
"What can we really do other than file the report? We've alerted Customs."
They fell silent. It was already 8.45 a.m. Wallander looked questioningly at Martinsson.
"Svedberg?"
Martinsson picked up the receiver and dialled Svedberg's number, then hung up.
"The answerphone again."
Wallander pushed the postcard back across the table to Martinsson. "I don't think we're going to get much further," he said. "But I think I'll have a talk with Eva Hillström. Then we'll evaluate what action to take from here. But we have no grounds for declaring this a missing persons case, at least not yet."
Martinsson wrote her number on a piece of paper. "She's an accountant."
"And the father?"
"They're divorced. I think he called once, just after Midsummer."
Wallander got up while Martinsson collected the papers. They left the conference room together.
"Maybe Svedberg did the same thing I did and took a