The Man Who Smiled Read Online Free PDF Page A

mind?"
    "Martinsson was in charge of the case."
    "He's good," Wallander said. "If Martinsson says that's what happened, there's no reason to think otherwise."
    Torstensson looked gravely at him. "I've no doubt Martinsson is a good police officer," he said. "Nor do I doubt they found my father dead in his car, which was upside down and badly knocked about in a field beside the road. But there's too much that doesn't add up. Something more must have happened."
    "What?"
    "Something else."
    "Such as?"
    "I don't know."
    Wallander went to the counter to refill his cup.
    Why don't I tell him the truth? he wondered. That Martinsson is both imaginative and energetic, but can on occasions be careless.
    "I've read the police report," Torstensson said, when Wallander had sat down again. "I've taken it with me and read it at the spot where my father died. I've read the post-mortem notes, I've spoken to Martinsson, I've done some thinking and I've asked again. Now I'm here."
    "What can I do?" Wallander said. "You're a solicitor, you know that in every case there are a few loose ends that we can never manage to tie up. I take it your father was alone in the car when it happened. If I understand you rightly, there were no witnesses. Which means the only person who could tell us exactly what happened was your father."
    "Something happened," Torstensson said. "Something's not right and I want to know what it is."
    "I can't help you, although I'd like to."
    Torstensson seemed not to hear him. "The keys," he said. "Just to give you one example. They weren't in the ignition. They were on the floor."
    "They could have been knocked out," Wallander said. "When a car crashes, anything can happen."
    "The ignition was undamaged," Torstensson said. "The ignition key was not even bent."
    "There could be an explanation even so."
    "I could give you other examples," Torstensson insisted. "I know that something happened. My dad died in a car accident that was really something else."
    Wallander thought before replying. "Might he have committed suicide?"
    "That possibility did occur to me, but I'm sure it can be discounted. I knew my father well."
    "The majority of suicides are unexpected," Wallander said. "But, of course, you know best what you want to believe."
    "There's another reason why I cannot accept the accident theory," Torstensson said.
    Wallander looked at him sharply.
    "My father was a cheerful, outgoing man," Torstensson said. "If I hadn't known him so well, I might not have noticed the change. Little things, barely noticeable, but very definitely a change in his mood during the last six months."
    "Can you be more precise?"
    Torstensson shook his head. "Not really," he said. "It was just a feeling I had. Something was worrying him. Something he was very keen to make sure I wouldn't notice."
    "Did you ever speak to him about it?"
    "Never."
    Wallander put his empty cup down. "I'd like to help you, but I can't," he said. "As your friend, I can listen to what you have to say. But I no longer exist as a police officer. I don't even feel flattered by the fact that you've come all the way here to talk to me. I just feel numb and tired and depressed."
    Torstensson opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it.
    They stood up and left the cafe.
    "I respect what you say, of course," Torstensson said as they stood outside the Art Museum.
    Wallander went with him to the car and recovered his bicycle.
    "We never know how to handle death," Wallander said in a clumsy attempt to convey his sympathy.
    "I'm not asking you to," Torstensson said. "I just want to know what happened. That was no ordinary car accident."
    "Have another word with Martinsson," Wallander said. "But it might be best if you don't mention that I suggested that."
    They said goodbye, and Wallander watched the car drive off through the dunes.
    He was struck by the feeling that matters were getting urgent. He couldn't keep dragging things out any longer. That afternoon he telephoned his