“Maybe he wanted the body to be found,” Wallander said thoughtfully. “We can’t rule out that possibility.”
They looked at him in astonishment, waiting for him to explain, but he remained silent.
The body was taken away to Malmo. They left for the police station. Noren had been taking pictures of the large crowd milling around outside the cordoned-off area.
Mats Ekholm had shown up earlier that morning, and stared at the corpse for a long time. Wallander had gone over to him.
“You got your wish,” he said. “Another victim.”
“I didn’t wish for this,” replied Ekholm, shaking his head.
Now Wallander regretted his remark. He would have to explain to Ekholm what he’d meant.
Just after 10 a.m. they closed the door to the conference room, Hansson again giving instructions that calls weren’t to be put through. But they had barely started the meeting when the phone rang. Hansson snatched the receiver and barked into it, red with anger. But he sank slowly back in his chair. Wallander knew at once that someone very important was on the line. Hansson adopted Bjork’s obsequiousness. He made some brief comments, answered questions, but mostly listened. When the call was over he placed the receiver back as if it were a fragile antique.
“Let me guess — the national police board,” said Wallander. “Or the chief public prosecutor. Or a TV reporter.”
“The commissioner of the national police,” replied Hansson. “He expressed as much dissatisfaction as encouragement.”
“Sounds like a strange combination,” Hoglund said drily.
“He’s welcome to come down here and help,” said Svedberg.
“What does he know about police work?” Martinsson spluttered. “Absolutely nothing.”
Wallander tapped his pen on the table. Everyone was upset and uncertain of what to do next, and he knew they had very little time before they would be subjected to a barrage of criticism. They would never be totally immune from outside pressure. They could only counteract it by focusing their attention inward on the shifting centre of the search. He tried to collect his thoughts, knowing that they didn’t have a thing to go on.
“What do we know?” Wallander began, looking around the table. He felt like a vicar who had lost his faith. But he had to say something to spur them on again as a unit.
“The man wound up in that pit sometime last night. Let’s assume that it took place in the early hours. We can assume that he wasn’t murdered there. There would have been a lot of blood at the place where he was killed. Nyberg hadn’t found a thing by the time we left, so he must have been transported there in a vehicle. Maybe the people working at the hot dog stand next to the railway crossing noticed something. It appears that he was killed by a powerful blow from the front that went all the way through his skull.”
Martinsson turned completely white. He got up and left the room without a word. Wallander decided to carry on without him.
“He was scalped like the others. And he had his eyes put out. The doctor wasn’t sure how, but there were some spots near the eyes that might indicate a corrosive agent. Maybe our specialist has some opinion on what this indicates.”
Wallander turned to Ekholm.
“Not yet,” said Ekholm. “It’s too soon.”
“We don’t need a comprehensive analysis,” said Wallander firmly. “At this stage we have to think out loud. Maybe we’ll uncover the truth. We don’t believe in miracles. But we don’t have much else to go on.”
“I think the fact that the eyes were put out means something,” said Ekholm. “We can assume that the same man is involved. This victim was younger than the other two. And he suffered the loss of his sight, presumably while he was still alive. It must have been excruciating. The murderer took scalps from the first two he killed, and this time too. But he also blinded his victim. Why? What kind of revenge was he exacting this time?”
“The man must be a psychopath,” said Hansson suddenly. “A serial killer of the kind I thought existed only in the United States. But here? In Ystad? In Skane?”
“There’s still something controlled about him,” said Ekholm. “He knows what he wants. He kills and scalps. He pokes out or dissolves the eyes. There’s nothing to indicate unbridled rage. Psychopath, yes. But one in control of his actions.”
“Are there instances of something like this having happened before?” asked Hoglund.
“Not that I can recall,” replied Ekholm. “At least not here in Sweden. In America studies have been done on the role that eyes have played in psychopathic killings. I’ll read about it today.”
Wallander had been half-listening to the conversation. A thought that he couldn’t quite yet grasp had popped into his head. It was something about eyes. Something somebody had said about eyes. What was it? He turned his attention to the meeting. But the thought lingered like an uneasy ache.
“Anything else?” he asked Ekholm.
“Not at the moment.”
Martinsson came back into the room. He was still very pale.
“I’ve got an idea,” said Wallander. “After hearing Mats I’m convinced that the murder took place elsewhere. The man must have screamed. Someone would have seen or heard something if it happened outside the railway station. We’ll have to confirm this. But for the time being let’s say I’m right. Why then did he pick that pit to hide the body? I talked to one of the workmen. Persson was his name, Erik Persson. He said that the pit had been excavated on Monday afternoon. Less than two days ago. The killer could have stumbled on it by chance, of course. But that doesn’t fit with the fact that he seems to plan everything he does carefully. The killer must have been outside the railway station at some time after Monday afternoon. He must have looked into the pit to see if it was deep enough. We’ll need to interview all the workmen. Did they notice anybody hanging around? And did the staff at the railway station notice anything?”
Everyone around the table was listening intently, making him feel that his ideas weren’t completely off track.
“I also think the question of whether it was meant as a hiding place is crucial,” he went on. “He must have known that the body would be found the next morning. So why did he choose the pit? So it would be discovered? Or is there another explanation?”
Everyone in the room waited for him to continue.
“Is he taunting us?” said Wallander. “Does he want to help us? Or is he trying to fool us? Does he want to trick me into thinking exactly the way I’m thinking now? What would the alternative be?”
No-one answered him.
“The timing is also important,” said Wallander. “This murder was very recent. That might assist us.”
“For that we need help,” said Hansson. Clearly he’d been waiting for an opportunity to bring up the question of reinforcements.
“Not yet,” said Wallander. “Let’s decide later on today. Or maybe tomorrow. As far as I know, no-one in this room is going on holiday soon. Let’s keep it to this group for a few more days. Then we can seek reinforcements if necessary.”
“What about the connection?” said Wallander in conclusion. “Now there’s one more person to fit into the puzzle we’re trying to piece together.”
He looked around the table once more.
“We have to realise that he could strike again,” he said. “In fact, we should assume that he will.”
The meeting was over. They all knew what they had to do. Wallander remained sitting at the table while the others filed out of the door. He was trying to recapture that thought. He was sure that it was something someone had said in relation to the investigation. Somebody had mentioned eyes. He thought back to the day he’d first heard that Wetterstedt had been found murdered. He searched his memory, but found nothing. Irritated, he tossed his pen aside and went out to the canteen for a cup of coffee. When he got back to his office he set the coffee cup on his desk and was about to shut the door when he saw Svedberg coming down the hall. Svedberg was walking fast. He only did that when something important had happened. Wallander instantly got a knot in his stomach. Not another one, he thought. We just can’t cope.