“From his office here in Ystad?”
“Yes.”
Wallander was unsure of how to proceed. He still didn’t feel that he had a good grasp of Falk’s work, but he also saw the futility in continuing this conversation without Martinsson present. They should also get in touch with the IT-division at the national police headquarters.
Wallander decided to change the subject.
“Did he have any enemies?”
He watched her face carefully while he asked the question. But he couldn’t see anything other than surprise.
“Not as far as I know.”
“Did you notice a change in him recently?”
She thought for a while before answering.
“He was the same as always.”
“And how was that?”
“Moody. He always worked a great deal.”
“Where did you two meet to discuss your work?”
“Here. Never in his office.”
“Why not?”
“I think Tynnes was somewhat of a germophobe, to be honest. I think he didn’t want anyone leaving dirt on his floor. He was manic about maintaining cleanliness.”
“Falk seems to have been a very complicated man.”
“Not when you got to know him. He wasn’t so different from other men.”
Wallander looked at her with interest.
“And what are men like, exactly?”
She smiled.
“Is that your personal question, or are we still discussing Tynnes?”
“I’m not here to ask personal questions.”
She sees right through me, Wallander thought.
“Men are often childish and vain, although they deny it.”
“That’s a rather broad characterization.”
“I mean what I say.”
“So Falk was like that?”
“Yes. But not always. He could be very generous, for example. He always paid me more than he had to. But you could never predict his moods.”
“He had once been married and had children.”
“We never talked about his family. It was only after about a year that I even heard he had one.”
“Did he have any outside interests, apart from his work?”
“None that I knew about.”
“Any friends?”
“He had some friends that he corresponded with via e-mail. I never saw him get so much as a postcard through the regular mail.”
“How can you know that if you were never at his office?”
She made a little gesture of applause.
“Good question. His mail came to my address, as it happens. But nothing was ever sent to him.”
“Nothing?”
“Yes, literally nothing. The whole time I’ve known him nothing ever came for him. No letter, no bill. Nothing.”
Wallander frowned.
“This is a bit confusing. He used your address, but no mail ever actually came for him?”
“From time to time he got junk mail, but that was all.”
“He must have had another postal address as well, then.”
“Probably, but I don’t know what it was in that case.”
Wallander thought about Falk’s two apartments. There had been nothing in the office at Runnerström Square, but he couldn’t remember seeing any mail at Apelbergsgatan either.
“We’ll have to look into this,” he said. “Falk makes a secretive impression.”
“I guess some people don’t like getting mail, while others love the sound of another letter coming through the mail slot.”
Wallander had no more questions. Falk was a mystery. I’m proceeding too quickly, he thought. First we have to see what’s in his computer. If he had a life that’s where we’ll find it.
She poured herself more wine and asked him if he had changed his mind. Wallander shook his head.
“You said you were close. Did you ever visit him at home?”
“No.”
That answer came a little too quickly, Wallander thought. Perhaps there had been something between Falk and his female assistant after all.
Wallander saw that it was already nine o’clock. The fire had burned down to glowing coals.
“I take it there’s been no mail for him in the past few days?”
“No, nothing.”
“And how would you sum up everything that’s happened?”
“I don’t know. I thought Tynnes would live to a ripe old age. It must have been an accident.”
“You don’t think he could have had some illness you didn’t know about?”
“Yes, of course that’s possible. But I don’t think so.”
Wallander wondered if he should tell her about the disappearance of Falk’s body. But he decided to wait. He switched tracks.
“There was a blueprint of a power substation on his desk. Do you know anything about that?”
“I hardly even know what one is.”
“It’s a structure just outside Ystad belonging to Sydkraft Power.”
She thought hard.
“He did some work for Sydkraft several years ago,” she said. “But I wasn’t involved.”
Wallander had a thought.
“I’d like you to make a list of all the jobs he had recently,” he said. “Both those he worked on alone and those you worked on together.”
“How far back should I go?”
“Start with this year.”
“Tynnes may have had projects I didn’t know about.”
“I’ll talk to his accountant,” Wallander said. “He must have given him the information. But I’d still like to see your list.”
“Right away?”
“Tomorrow is fine.”
She got up and stirred the embers in the fire. Wallander tried to compose a personal ad in his head that would tempt Siv Eriksson to reply. She returned to her chair.
“Are you hungry?”
“No. I’m on my way out.”
“It doesn’t seem as if my answers have helped you.”
“I know more about Tynnes Falk than I did before I came. Police work requires patience.”
He knew he should get up and leave. He had no more questions. He finally got to his feet.
“I’ll get in touch tomorrow,” he said. “Do you think you could fax the list of clients to the police station?”
“How about an e-mail attachment?”
“That would be fine as well, though I have no idea how to read those or even what address I have.”
“I can find that out.”
She followed him out. Wallander put on his coat.
“Did Falk ever talk to you about mink farming?” he asked.
“Why on earth would he ever have done that?” she asked.
“I was just wondering.”
She opened the front door. Wallander felt a strong urge not to leave.
“You gave a great lecture,” she said. “But you were very nervous.”
“I think that’s par for the course when you’re standing on your own in front of so many women.”
They said good-bye. Wallander walked down the stairs. Just before he opened the door to the street, his cell phone rang. It was Nyberg.
“How fast can you get here?”
“Pretty fast,” Wallander said. “Why do you ask?”
“I think you’d better come over.”
Nyberg hung up. Wallander’s heart beat faster. Nyberg would only have called if it was important.
Something had happened.
Chapter Seventeen
It took Wallander less than five minutes to return to the building at Runnerström Square. When he had walked up all the stairs he saw Nyberg smoking on the landing outside the apartment. That was when Wallander realized how extremely tired Nyberg was. He never smoked unless he was about to collapse from exhaustion. The last time that had happened was a couple of years ago during the difficult homicide investigation that led to the capture of Stefan Fredman.
Nyberg put out the cigarette with his foot and nodded to Wallander to follow him in.