When Wallander stepped in through the front doors, he saw that someone was waiting in the reception area. The man came over and introduced himself as Rolf Stenius. The name was familiar to Wallander, but he couldn’t place it until the man explained that he was Falk’s accountant.
“I should have called you before coming down here,” Stenius said. “But I happened to be in town for another meeting and thought perhaps I could drop in.”
“Unfortunately it’s not a good time,” Wallander said. “I can only spare a couple of minutes.”
They went to his office. Rolf Stenius was a gaunt man about his own age with thinning hair. Wallander remembered seeing in a memo that Hansson had been in contact with him. Stenius took out a plastic folder from his briefcase.
“I had already been informed of Falk’s death when the police contacted me.”
“Who told you about it?”
“Falk’s ex-wife.”
Wallander nodded for him to continue.
“I’ve made a spreadsheet for you covering the past two years, as well as including other things that may be of interest to you.”
Wallander accepted the plastic folder without looking at it.
“Was Falk a rich man?” he asked.
“That depends on what you mean by rich. He had about ten million kronor.”
“Then he was rich in my book. Did he have any outstanding debt?”
“Nothing of any consequence. His operating costs were also quite low,” Stenius said.
“His income came from his various consulting projects. Is that correct?”
“I’ve provided you with all this information in the folder.”
“Was there any one project that was significantly more lucrative than the others?” Wallander asked.
“Some of his projects in the U.S. paid very well, but nothing unusual.”
“What kind of projects were those?”
“Among other things, he worked for a national advertising chain. Apparently he helped improve their graphic design program.”
“And what else?”
“He worked for a whiskey importer by the name of DuPont. He made some kind of advanced warehouse storage program.”
Wallander tried to gather his thoughts.
“Did his accumulation of wealth increase less rapidly in the past year?”
“I don’t think one could say that. He always made wise investments and never put his eggs in one basket. He had money in Swedish, Scandinavian, and American funds. He always kept a good amount of cash on hand, and then he invested in several reputable companies. Ericsson, for example.”
“Who handled his stock-market account?”
“He did that himself, mostly.”
“Did he have any interests in Angola?”
“Where did you say?”
“Angola,” Wallander repeated.
“Not that I know of.”
“Could he have had such interests without you knowing about it?”
“Of course. But I doubt it. Falk was a very honest man. He felt strongly about paying his share of taxes. When I suggested he think about moving his assets abroad in order to achieve a more favorable tax rate, he became very upset.”
“What did he do?”
“He threatened to get a new accountant.”
Wallander felt tired.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll look through these papers as soon as I have the chance.”
“It’s a sad affair,” Stenius said and closed his briefcase. “Falk was a good man. Overly reserved, perhaps, but amiable.”
Wallander escorted him back to the reception area.
“An incorporated company always has a board of directors,” he said.
“Who was on it?”
“Falk, of course. My boss, and my secretary.”
“And you held regular meetings?”
“I took care of most of the business over the phone.”
“So the board doesn’t have to meet in person?”
“It’s often enough to circulate documents and have people sign them on their own time.”
Stenius left the station, unfolding his umbrella as he walked outside. Wallander returned to his office and wondered if anyone had had a chance to speak to Falk’s children. We don’t even have time for the most important tasks, he thought. Even though we’re working ourselves to the bone. The Swedish justice system is degenerating into a crumbling warehouse of unsolved cases.
At three-thirty, the investigative team gathered for a meeting. Höglund relayed Nyberg’s apologies — he was suffering from vertigo. They speculated gloomily about which of them would be the first to suffer a heart attack. Then they launched directly into the discussion about Sonja Hökberg’s rape and its possible consequences for the case. Wallander demanded that Carl-Einar Lundberg be brought in for questioning as soon as possible and looked over to Viktorsson, who nodded his assent. Wallander also asked Höglund to find out if Lundberg senior had been involved in any way.
“You think he had been after her, too?” Hansson exclaimed. “What kind of a family was that?”
“We have to know the facts,” Wallander said. “We can’t afford any gaps.”
“I have trouble accepting the theory of a revenge by proxy,” Martinsson said. “I’m sorry, but that just seems too farfetched to me.”
“We’re not discussing how we feel about these things,” Wallander said. “We’re talking about facts.”
His voice was sharper than he intended. He saw that the others around the table had noticed it. He hurried on in a friendlier tone.
“What about the National Police and their cybercrime experts? What did they say?”
“Well, they whined when I insisted that someone come down immediately. But someone will be here by nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
“Does this someone have a name?”
“His name is actually Hans Alfredsson.”
Everyone burst out laughing. Hans, or rather Hasse, Alfredsson was a legendary Swedish comedian. Martinsson volunteered to meet his plane at Sturup.
“Do you think you’ll be able to show him what’s been done so far?” Wallander asked.
“Yes. I made plenty of notes while Modin was working.”
They finished the meeting by talking about Jonas Landahl. Hansson had been allotted the unpleasant task of getting in touch with his parents. They had been in Corsica and were now on their way home. Nyberg had sent Höglund a memo in which he stated that Sonja Hökberg had indeed been in Landahl’s car, and that the car had been at the substation that night. They now also knew that Landahl had no previous criminal record, but that didn’t mean that he hadn’t been involved in releasing the minks at the farm in Solvesborg, where Falk was apprehended.
It was almost six o’clock. Wallander felt they were not going to get any further and ended the meeting. They would meet again on Saturday. Wallander was now in a hurry. He needed to clean the apartment and get himself ready before Elvira arrived. But he walked by his office and called Nyberg. It took so long for him to answer that Wallander was starting to get worried. Finally he answered, furious as usual, and Wallander was able to relax. Nyberg said he was feeling better and would be back at work the following day.
Wallander had just managed to tidy up in his apartment and change his clothes when the phone rang. Elvira was on her way to Ystad and was calling from her car. She had just passed the exit to Sturup. Wallander had booked a table at a fancy Ystad restaurant. He gave her the directions to the main square, where they arranged to meet. He put the receiver down so clumsily that it fell to the floor. He picked it up again, cursing, while he suddenly remembered that he and Linda had agreed to talk on the phone this evening. After an internal debate he decided to leave the number of the restaurant on his answering machine for anyone who wanted to reach him. There was a chance that a journalist would call, but he decided it was only a small one. Right now public interest in the scandal seemed to be low.