Wallander nodded.
“I know you aren’t a doctor,” he said. “But you used the word ‘cut’?”
“Both of them look like clean cuts. There is a small possibility it could have been another kind of instrument if it was powerful enough. The pathologist should be able to tell us. She’s on her way.”
“Susann Bexell?”
“I don’t know for sure.”
The doctor arrived after a half-hour. It was Bexell. Wallander explained the situation to her. The canine unit that Nyberg had requested arrived shortly thereafter. They were supposed to search for the missing fingers.
“I really don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing out here,” Bexell said when Wallander had finished telling her everything. “If he’s dead, there’s not much I can do.”
“I need you to look at his hands. Two fingers are missing.”
Nyberg had started smoking again. Wallander was surprised he wasn’t feeling more exhausted himself. The dog and his officer had started their work. Wallander had a vague recollection of a time when a dog had found a blackened finger. How long ago was that? He couldn’t say. Five, maybe ten years ago.
Bexell worked quickly.
“I think someone cut these fingers off with pruning shears,” she said. “But whether that happened here, or in some other location, I can’t say.”
“It definitely wasn’t here,” Nyberg said.
No one disputed his opinion, nor did anyone bother to ask how he was able to arrive at this conclusion.
Bexell finished up and directed the work of loading the body into the morgue van.
“Hopefully the body won’t disappear this time,” Wallander said. “It would be nice if they could actually bury it this time.”
Bexell and the morgue van left the scene. The dog had given up on the search.
“He would have found a couple of fingers,” his trainer said. “That’s an easy job for him.”
“I still want the area searched again tomorrow,” Wallander said, thinking of Sonja Hökberg’s handbag. “The person who removed them may have discarded them a little farther away. Just to make our job harder.”
It was a quarter to two and the security guard had gone home.
“He agreed with me, ” Martinsson said. “The body was in a different position before.”
“That could mean one of two things,” Wallander said. “Either they simply couldn’t be bothered to arrange it in the original position, or they didn’t know what that was.”
“But how could that be? And why did they bring it back here?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t think there’s any use in staying here. We need to sleep.”
Nyberg was packing up his bags for the second time this evening. The area would remain cordoned off until the next day.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at eight,” Wallander said.
Then they went their separate ways.
Wallander went home and made himself a cup of tea. He drank about half a cup and then went to bed. His back and legs ached. The streetlamp swayed outside his window.
Just as he was about to fall asleep, he was jerked back into consciousness. At first he didn’t know what it was. He listened for noise, but then he realized the disturbance had come from within.
It was something to do with the fingers that had been cut off.
He sat up in bed. It was twenty minutes past two.
I have to know now, he thought. It can’t wait until tomorrow.
He got out of bed and walked out into the kitchen. The phone book lay on the table.
It took him less than a minute to find the phone number he was looking for.
Chapter Eighteen
Siv Eriksson was sleeping.
Wallander hoped he wasn’t tearing her from a dream she didn’t want to leave. She answered the phone after the eleventh ring.
“This is Kurt Wallander.”
“Who?”
“I came by last night.”
She seemed to be waking up slowly.
“Oh, the policeman. What time is it?”
“Half past three. I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t urgent.”
“What’s happened?”
“We found the body.”
There was a scratchy sound on the other end. He thought she was probably sitting up in bed.
“Come again?”
“We have found Falk’s body.”
Wallander realized as he was saying this that he had never told her about it being missing in the first place. He was so tired it had slipped his mind.
So he told her. She listened without interrupting him.
“Do you really expect me to believe all this?” she said when he was finished.
“I know it sounds strange, but every word is true.”
“Who would do something like that? And why?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“And the body lay where it was found the first time?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God!”
He heard her breathing hard.
“But how could it have gotten there?”
“We don’t know that yet, but I’m calling because I’m hoping you’ll help me with something else.”
“Are you planning to come over?”
“Talking on the phone is fine.”
“What is it you want to know? Don’t you ever sleep, by the way?”
“Things have a tendency to get a little hectic at times. Now, the question I’m going to ask you will seem a little odd.”
“Well, that’s no surprise. I think everything about you is a little odd, if you don’t mind my being completely honest while we’re talking like this in the middle of the night.”
Her comment threw him.
“I don’t understand.”
She laughed.
“Don’t take it to heart. I didn’t mean it so seriously. It’s just that I find it funny when people who are obviously thirsty decline a drink, and people who are dying of hunger won’t accept any food. That’s all.”
“I wasn’t thirsty or hungry. If you’re referring to me, that is.”
“Who do you think?”
Wallander wondered why he couldn’t tell her the truth. What was he afraid of? He didn’t think she believed him.
“Have I offended you?” she asked.
“Not at all,” he said. “Can I ask you my question?”
“Of course.”
“Could you tell me how Tynnes Falk used a computer keyboard?”
“Was that your quesiton?”
“Yes. I would appreciate an answer.”
“He used a keyboard the way anyone would.”
“But people often type in different ways. The stereotype of a policeman, for example, is someone slowly pecking away at an old typewriter with one finger.”
“I see what you’re getting at.”
“Did he use all his fingers when he was typing?”
“I don’t think many people do.”
“So he probably only used a couple of fingers?”
“Yes.”
Wallander held his breath. He was about to find out if his hunch had been correct.
“Which fingers did he use?”
“I have to think about it. To make sure I’m right.”
Wallander waited with excitement.
She was fully awake by now and he knew she was trying to do her best to help him.
“I think I’d like to call you back,” she said. “There’s something I’m not sure about. I think it’ll be easier if I sit down at the computer. That will jog my memory.”
Wallander gave her his home phone number.
Then he waited at the kitchen table. His whole head ached. Tomorrow I have to try to get an early night, he thought. Whatever happens. He wondered how Nyberg was doing. If he was sleeping, or tossing restlessly.