?"
"Before that she made a call from her car phone."
To her husband, Wallander thought. Everything fits so far.
"It was just after 3.00," Moberg said. "I had another meeting at 3.30, and needed to prepare myself. My own call dragged on a bit."
"Could you see when she drove off ?"
"I had gone back to my office by then."
"So the last you saw of her was when she was using the car phone."
Moberg nodded.
"What make of car was it?"
"I'm not so up on cars," said the assistant manager. "But it was black. Possibly dark blue."
Wallander shut his notebook. "If you think of anything else, let me know right away," he said. "Any little thing could be important."
Wallander left the bank after making a note of the names and telephone numbers of the seller and the buyers. He went out the front entrance, and paused in the square.
A paper bag, he thought to himself. That sounds like a bakery. He remembered a bakery on the street running parallel to the railway. He crossed over the square then turned off to the left.
The girl behind the counter had been working all day Friday, but she didn't recognise Louise Akerblom from the photo Wallander showed her.
"There is another bakery," said the girl.
"Whereabouts?"
The girl explained, and Wallander could see it was just as close to the bank as the one he was in now. He thanked her, and left. He made his way to the bakery on the other side of the square. An elderly lady asked him what would he like as he entered the shop. Wallander showed her the photograph and explained who he was.
"I wonder if you recognise her?" he asked. "She might have been here shopping shortly after 3.00 last Friday afternoon."
The woman went to fetch her glasses to study the photograph more carefully.
"Has something happened?" she asked, curious to know. "Who is she?"
"Just tell me if you recognise her," Wallander said, gently.
The woman nodded.
"I remember her," she said. "I think she bought some pastries. Yes, I remember quite clearly. Napoleons. And a loaf of bread."
Wallander thought for a moment.
"How many pastries?" he asked.
"Four. I remember I was going to put them in a carton, but she said a bag would be OK. She seemed to be in a hurry."
Wallander nodded.
"Did you see where she went after she left?"
"No. There were other customers waiting."
"Thank you," Wallander said. "You've been a great help."
"What happened?" the woman said.
"Nothing," Wallander said. "Just routine."
He left the shop and walked back to the rear of the bank where Louise Akerblom had parked her car.
Thus far but no further, he thought. This is where we lose track. She sets out from here to see a house, but we still don't know where it is. After leaving a message on the answering machine. She's in a good mood, she has pastries in a paper bag, and she's due home at 5.00.
He looked at his watch. 2.57 p.m. Three days exactly since Louise Akerblom was standing on this very spot.
Wallander walked to his car, which was parked in front of the bank, put in a music cassette, one of the few he had left after the break-in, and tried to summarise where he'd got to so far. Placido Domingo's voice filled the car as he thought about the four pastries, one for each of the Akerbloms. Then he wondered if they said grace before eating pastries. He wondered what it felt like to believe in a god.
An idea occurred to him at the same time. He had time for one more interview before the meeting at the station to talk things through.
What had Akerblom said? Pastor Tureson?
Wallander started the engine and drove towards Ystad. When he joined the E14, he was only just within the speed limit. He called Ebba at the station reception, asked her to get hold of Pastor Tureson and tell him Wallander wanted to speak to him right away. Just before he got to Ystad, Ebba called him back. Pastor Tureson was in the Methodist chapel and would be pleased to see him.
"It'll do you no harm to go to church now and again," Ebba said.
Wallander thought about
"Before that she made a call from her car phone."
To her husband, Wallander thought. Everything fits so far.
"It was just after 3.00," Moberg said. "I had another meeting at 3.30, and needed to prepare myself. My own call dragged on a bit."
"Could you see when she drove off ?"
"I had gone back to my office by then."
"So the last you saw of her was when she was using the car phone."
Moberg nodded.
"What make of car was it?"
"I'm not so up on cars," said the assistant manager. "But it was black. Possibly dark blue."
Wallander shut his notebook. "If you think of anything else, let me know right away," he said. "Any little thing could be important."
Wallander left the bank after making a note of the names and telephone numbers of the seller and the buyers. He went out the front entrance, and paused in the square.
A paper bag, he thought to himself. That sounds like a bakery. He remembered a bakery on the street running parallel to the railway. He crossed over the square then turned off to the left.
The girl behind the counter had been working all day Friday, but she didn't recognise Louise Akerblom from the photo Wallander showed her.
"There is another bakery," said the girl.
"Whereabouts?"
The girl explained, and Wallander could see it was just as close to the bank as the one he was in now. He thanked her, and left. He made his way to the bakery on the other side of the square. An elderly lady asked him what would he like as he entered the shop. Wallander showed her the photograph and explained who he was.
"I wonder if you recognise her?" he asked. "She might have been here shopping shortly after 3.00 last Friday afternoon."
The woman went to fetch her glasses to study the photograph more carefully.
"Has something happened?" she asked, curious to know. "Who is she?"
"Just tell me if you recognise her," Wallander said, gently.
The woman nodded.
"I remember her," she said. "I think she bought some pastries. Yes, I remember quite clearly. Napoleons. And a loaf of bread."
Wallander thought for a moment.
"How many pastries?" he asked.
"Four. I remember I was going to put them in a carton, but she said a bag would be OK. She seemed to be in a hurry."
Wallander nodded.
"Did you see where she went after she left?"
"No. There were other customers waiting."
"Thank you," Wallander said. "You've been a great help."
"What happened?" the woman said.
"Nothing," Wallander said. "Just routine."
He left the shop and walked back to the rear of the bank where Louise Akerblom had parked her car.
Thus far but no further, he thought. This is where we lose track. She sets out from here to see a house, but we still don't know where it is. After leaving a message on the answering machine. She's in a good mood, she has pastries in a paper bag, and she's due home at 5.00.
He looked at his watch. 2.57 p.m. Three days exactly since Louise Akerblom was standing on this very spot.
Wallander walked to his car, which was parked in front of the bank, put in a music cassette, one of the few he had left after the break-in, and tried to summarise where he'd got to so far. Placido Domingo's voice filled the car as he thought about the four pastries, one for each of the Akerbloms. Then he wondered if they said grace before eating pastries. He wondered what it felt like to believe in a god.
An idea occurred to him at the same time. He had time for one more interview before the meeting at the station to talk things through.
What had Akerblom said? Pastor Tureson?
Wallander started the engine and drove towards Ystad. When he joined the E14, he was only just within the speed limit. He called Ebba at the station reception, asked her to get hold of Pastor Tureson and tell him Wallander wanted to speak to him right away. Just before he got to Ystad, Ebba called him back. Pastor Tureson was in the Methodist chapel and would be pleased to see him.
"It'll do you no harm to go to church now and again," Ebba said.
Wallander thought about
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