“No. But someone hit her.”
“How do you know that if she didn’t tell you?”
“I won’t tell you.”
Wallander thought hard about how to proceed. If he pushed too much, the boy might stop talking completely.
“You asked me just now if I was going to find the guy who killed your sister. But if I’m going to be able to do that, I need your help. The best thing you can do right now is tell me how you know that someone hit her.”
“She made a drawing.”
“She drew?”
“She was good at it, but she never showed it to anyone. She drew pictures and then tore them up. But I went into her room sometimes when she wasn’t here.”
“And you found something?”
“She drew a picture of what happened.”
“Did she say that?”
“Why else would she draw a picture of a guy hitting her in the nose?”
“Do you still have that picture?”
The boy didn’t answer. He left the room. After a few minutes he came back with a pencil drawing in his hand.
“I want it back.”
“I promise.”
Wallander took the picture over to the window. It was a disturbing picture. He saw that Sonja Hökberg was good at drawing. He recognized her face. But it was the man who dominated the picture. His face loomed over her and his fist hit her nose. Wallander studied his face. If it was as accurate as her self-portrait they should be able to identify the man from this drawing. Something on the man’s wrist also caught his attention. At first he thought it was a bracelet. Then he realized it was a tattoo.
Wallander was suddenly in a hurry.
“You did the right thing when you kept this drawing,” he told the boy. “I promise you’ll get it back.”
The boy followed him down the stairs. Wallander carefully folded the drawing and put it in his inner pocket. There were still sobs coming from the living room.
“Is she always going to be like that?” the boy asked.
Wallander suddenly felt a lump in his throat.
“It will take time,” he said. “But it will get better. Sometime.”
Wallander didn’t go in to the adults. He stroked the boy’s head and carefully closed the front door behind him.
Wallander tried to reach Höglund on his cell phone, but she didn’t answer. He called Irene, who told him that Höglund had been forced to go home. One of her kids was sick. Wallander didn’t have to think twice. He drove to the house on Rotfruktsgatan where she lived. It had started to rain. He folded his arms over his chest to make sure no rain would penetrate his coat and reach the drawing inside his pocket. Höglund opened the front door with a child on her arm.
“I wouldn’t have bothered you if it wasn’t important,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “She just has a low-grade fever. My neighbor can’t take her until later in the day.”
Wallander went in. It had been a while since he was last there. When he stepped into the living room, he saw that the Japanese masks had disappeared from the wall. She followed his gaze.
“He took his travel mementos with him,” she said.
“Does he still live in town?”
“He moved to Malmö.”
“Are you going to stay here?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can afford it.”
The girl in her arms was almost asleep. Höglund softly put her down on the couch.
“In a moment I’m going to show you a drawing,” Wallander said. “But first I need to ask you something about Carl-Einar Lundberg. I know you haven’t met him, but you’ve seen pictures of him and read through the case files on him. Can you recall if there was any mention of a tattoo?”
She didn’t need time to think.
“He had a snake design on his right wrist.”
Wallander smacked his hand down on the coffee table. The child jerked and started to cry, but soon stopped and returned to sleep. At last they had arrived at a conclusion that held water. He took the drawing out and showed it to her.
“That’s Carl-Einar. Without a doubt. How did you get hold of it?”
Wallander told her about his encounter with Emil, and about learning of Sonja’s hidden talent for drawing.
“I doubt we’ll ever be able to prosecute him for this,” Wallander said. “But that’s not the most important thing right now. What we’ve done is prove your theory. You were right. It’s no longer simply a working hypothesis.”
“I still find it hard to believe that she would kill his father.”
“Keep in mind that there may be other factors we still don’t know about. But now we can lean on Lundberg and see what we get. We’re going to assume she killed his father out of revenge. And Eva Persson may be telling the truth when she said that Sonja was the one who did both the stabbing and the hitting. Eva Persson is a riddle unto herself that we’ll have to attend to later.”
They both thought for a moment about the new developments. Finally Wallander broke the silence.
“Someone became worried that Sonja was going to tell us something. So we have three questions we need answers to: What was it she knew? What did it have to do with Falk? Who was the person who became worried?”
The girl on the sofa started to whimper. Wallander took that as his cue.
“Have you seen Martinsson since this morning?” she asked.
“No, but I’m going over there now. Don’t worry, I’m planning to take your advice. I won’t say anything.”
Wallander left the house and hurried to his car.
He drove down to Runnerström Square in the pouring rain.
He stayed in his car for a long time, trying to summon all his energy.
Then he walked into the building to face Martinsson.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Martinsson greeted Wallander at the door with his widest smile.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” he said. “Things are happening.”
Wallander had opened the door to Falk’s office with a great deal of pent-up aggression in his body. He was itching to punch Martinsson in the face. How could he have done this to him? But Martinsson smiled and immediately led the conversation to the latest news about Falk’s computer. Wallander realized he was somewhat relieved. It gave him breathing space. There would be time enough for him to have it out with Martinsson later. And Martinsson’s smile gave him pause. What if Höglund had misunderstood Martinsson’s intentions? Martinsson may have had other reasons to consult with Holgersson. Höglund may also have taken some of his comments the wrong way.
But in his heart he knew she was right. Höglund had not exaggerated the situation. She had said what she did because she was also upset by it.
Wallander walked around the table to say hello to Modin.
“Tell me what’s happened,” he said.
“Robert is breaking through one layer of defense after another,” Martinsson said with satisfaction. “We’re getting deeper and deeper into the strange and fascinating world inside Falk’s computer.”
Martinsson offered Wallander the folding chair, but he declined. Martinsson checked his notes while Modin took a sip of what looked like carrot juice.
“We’ve identified another four institutions in Falk’s network. The first is the National Bank of Indonesia. Don’t ask me how Robert managed to confirm that. He’s a wizard when it comes to getting around security.”
Martinsson kept flipping the pages.
“Then there’s a bank in Liechtenstein called Lyder Bank. It gets somewhat harder after this. If we’re right, then the next two companies are a French telecommunications firm and a commercial satellite company in Atlanta.”
Wallander furrowed his brow.
“What do you make of it?”
“The thought from before that it’s all about money still stands, as far as I’m concerned. But we’re not sure how the telecom company or the Atlanta satellites are involved.”