The investigative team had a meeting set for 10 a.m. Wallander left Hansson, who already seemed relieved. He went to his office and called Forsfalt, who couldn’t be located. It took 15 minutes before Forsfalt called back. Wallander asked about Bjorn Fredman’s passport.
“It should be in his flat, of course,” said Forsfalt. “Funny we haven’t found it.”
“I don’t know if this means anything,” said Wallander. “But I want to find out more about those trips Peter Hjelm was talking about.”
“E.U. countries hardly use entry and exit stamps any more,” Forsfalt pointed out.
“I think Hjelm was talking about trips further afield,” replied Wallander. “But I could be wrong.”
Forsfalt said that they would start searching for Fredman’s passport immediately.
“I spoke with Marianne Eriksson last night,” he said. “I thought about calling you, but it was late.”
“Where did you find her?”
“In Malaga. She didn’t even know that Fredman was dead.”
“What did she have to say?”
“Not much, I must say. Obviously she was upset. I couldn’t spare her any details, unfortunately. They had met occasionally over the past six months. I got a feeling that she actually liked Fredman.”
“In that case, she’s the first,” said Wallander. “If you don’t count Hjelm.”
“She thought he was a businessman,” Forsfalt continued. “She had no idea he had been involved in illegal activities. She also didn’t know he was married and had three children. She was quite upset. I smashed the image she had of Fredman to smithereens with one phone call, I’m afraid.”
“How could you tell she liked him?”
“She was hurt that he had lied to her.”
“Did you learn anything else?”
“Not really. But she’s on her way back to Sweden. She’s coming home on Friday. I’ll talk to her then.”
“And then you’re going on holiday?”
“I was planning to. Weren’t you supposed to start yours soon too?”
“I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Once they start moving, things could happen quickly.”
Wallander didn’t respond to Forsfalt’s last remark. They said good-bye. Wallander dialled the switchboard, and asked the receptionist to track down Akeson. After more than a minute she told him that Akeson was at home. Wallander looked at the clock. Just after 9 a.m. He made a quick decision and left his office. He ran into Svedberg in the hall, still wearing his silly cap.
“How is the sunburn?” asked Wallander.
“Better. But I don’t dare go out without the cap.”
“Do you think locksmiths are open on Saturday?” asked Wallander.
“I doubt it. But there are locksmiths on call.”
“I need to get a couple of keys copied.”
“Did you lock yourself out?”
“I’ve lost my house keys.”
“Were your name and address on them?”
“Of course not.”
“Then at least you don’t need to change your lock.”
Wallander told Svedberg that he might be a little late for the meeting. He had to see Akeson about something important. Akeson lived in a residential neighbourhood near the hospital. Wallander had been to the house before and knew the way. When he arrived and got out of the car, he saw Akeson mowing his lawn. He stopped when he saw Wallander.
“Has something happened?” he asked when they met at the gate.
“Yes and no,” said Wallander. “Something is always happening. But nothing crucial. I need your help with part of the investigation.”
They went into the garden. Wallander thought gloomily that it looked like every other garden he’d been in. He turned down an offer of coffee. They sat in the shade of a roofed patio.
“If my wife comes out I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that I’m going to Africa this autumn. It’s still quite a sensitive topic,” said Akeson.
Wallander said he wouldn’t. He explained about Louise Fredman and his suspicion that she might have been abused by her father. He was honest and said that this could well be a false trail and might not add anything to the investigation. He outlined the new tack they were trying in the case, which was based around the knowledge that Fredman had been killed by the same person as Wetterstedt and Carlman. “Bjorn Fredman was the black sheep in the scalped ‘family’,” he said, realising immediately how inappropriate the description was.
How did he fit into the picture? How didn’t he fit? Maybe they could find the connection by starting with Fredman at a place where a link was by no means obvious. Akeson listened intently.
“I talked to Ekholm,” he said when Wallander had finished. “A good man, I thought. Competent. Realistic. The impression I got from him was that the man we’re looking for may strike again.”
“I’m always thinking about that.”
“What about getting reinforcements?” Akeson asked.
Wallander told him about his conversation with Hansson earlier that morning.
“I think you’re mistaken,” Akeson said. “It’s not enough for Hansson to have support. I think you have a tendency to overestimate the work that you and your colleagues can handle. This case is big, in fact it’s too big. I want to see more people working on it. More manpower means more things can be done at the same time. We’re dealing with a man who could kill again. That means we have no time to lose.”
“I know,” said Wallander. “I keep worrying that we’re already too late.”
“Reinforcements,” Akeson repeated. “What do you think?”
“For the time being no, that’s not the problem.”
Tension rose between them.
“Let’s say that I, as the leader of the investigation, can’t accept that,” said Akeson. “But you don’t want more manpower. Where does that leave us?”
“In a difficult situation.”
“Very difficult. And unpleasant. If I request more manpower against the wishes of the police, my argument has to be that the present investigative team isn’t up to the task. I’d have to declare your team incompetent, even though I’d phrase it in more kindly terms. And I don’t want to do that.”
“I assume you’ll do it if you have to,” said Wallander. “And that’s when I’ll resign from the force.”
“God damn it, Kurt!”
“You were the one who started this discussion, not me.”
“You’ve got your regulations. I’ve got mine. So I regard it as a dereliction of my duty if I don’t request that you have more personnel put at your disposal.”
“And dogs,” said Wallander sarcastically. “I want police dogs. And helicopters.”
The discussion was at an end. Wallander regretted flying off the handle. He wasn’t sure why he was so opposed to getting reinforcements. He knew that problems in cooperation could damage and delay an investigation. But he couldn’t argue with Akeson’s point that more things could be investigated simultaneously with more people.
“Talk to Hansson,” Wallander said. “He’s the one who makes the decision.”
“Hansson doesn’t do anything without asking you. And then he does whatever you say.”
“I’ll refuse to give him my opinion. I’ll give you that much help.”
Akeson stood up and turned off a dripping tap with a green hose attached to it. Then he sat down again.
“Let’s wait until Monday,” he said.
“Let’s do that,” said Wallander. Then he returned to Louise Fredman. He reiterated that there was no proof that Fredman had abused his daughter. But it might be true; he couldn’t rule out anything, and that was why he needed Akeson’s help.
“It’s possible I’m making a big mistake,” Wallander concluded. “And it wouldn’t be the first time. But I can’t afford to ignore any leads. I want to know why Louise Fredman is in a psychiatric hospital. And when I find out, we’ll decide whether there’s any reason to take the next step.”