At the beginning of the 1980s Harderberg had been married to a Brazilian woman, Carmen Dulce da Silva, but they divorced without having had any children. All the time Harderberg had remained as invisible as possible. He had never put in an appearance when hospitals he had helped to finance were opened, nor did he ever send anybody to represent him. But he did write letters and telex messages in which he was modesty itself, expressing his thanks for all the kindness that had been extended to him. He was never present at the ceremony when he was awarded an honorary doctorate.
His life is one long absence, Wallander thought. Until out of the blue he turned up in Skane and installed himself behind the walls of Farnholm Castle, nobody had any idea where he was. He was constantly moving from one house to another, being driven in curtained cars, and from the early '80s he had owned a jet.
But there were a few exceptions. One of them seemed to be more surprising and even stranger than the rest. According to something Mrs Duner had said in a conversation with Hoglund, Harderberg and Gustaf Torstensson had met for the first time over lunch at the Continental Hotel in Ystad. Torstensson had described Harderberg afterwards as likeable, suntanned and strikingly well dressed.
Why had he chosen to meet Torstensson at a restaurant so openly? Wallander wondered. Well-known journalists specialising in international commerce have to wait for years before getting a glimpse of the man. Could that be significant? Does he sometimes change tack to create even more confusion? Uncertainty can be a hiding place, Wallander thought. The world is allowed to know he exists, but never where he is.
Around midday Wallander went home for lunch. He was back by 1.30. He had just settled down to his files when Hoglund knocked and came in.
"Back so soon?" Wallander said in surprise. "I thought you were supposed to be in Angelholm?"
"It didn't take long to talk to Borman's family," she said. "Unfortunately."
Wallander could hear she was unhappy with the trip, and her mood immediately rubbed off on him. It's no good, then, he thought gloomily. Nothing here to help us break down the walls of Farnholm Castle.
She had sat down on his visitor's chair and was leafing through her notebook.
"How's the sick child?" Wallander said.
"Children don't stay ill for long nowadays," she said. "I've found out quite a bit about Harderberg's jet, by the way. I'm glad Svedberg phoned and gave me that to keep me occupied. Women always have a guilty conscience when they can't work."
"The Bormans first," Wallander said. "Let's start with them."
"There really isn't much to say," she said. "There's no doubt they think he committed suicide. I don't think the widow's got over it, nor the son or daughter. I think it's the first time I've realised what it must mean to a family when somebody takes his own life, and for no reason."
"He really hadn't left anything? No letter?"
"Not a thing."
"That doesn't fit with the picture we have of Borman. He wouldn't just drop his bike on the ground, and he wouldn't have taken his life without leaving some kind of explanation, or an apology."
"I went over everything I thought was important. He wasn't in debt, he didn't gamble, and he hadn't been involved in any kind of swindle."
"You mean you asked about that?" Wallander said, astonished.
"Indirect questions can produce direct answers," she said.
Wallander thought he understood what she meant. "People who know the police are coming make preparations," he said. "Is that it?"
"All three of them had decided to defend his reputation," she said. "They listed all his good qualities without my needing to ask if he had any weaknesses."
"The only question is whether what they said is true."
"They weren't lying. I don't know what he might have got up to in private, but he does not seem to have been the kind of man who leads a double life."
"Go on," Wallander said.
"It came as a total shock to them," she said. "And they haven't come to terms with it yet. I think they spend night and day worrying about why he would have taken his own life. Without being able to find an answer."
"Did you give any indication that it might not have been suicide?"
"No."
"Good. Go on."
"The only thing of any interest to us is that Borman was in touch with Gustaf Torstensson. They were able to confirm that. They could also tell me why. Torstensson and Borman were members of a society for the study of icons. Gustaf Torstensson occasionally used to visit the Bormans. And Borman visited Torstensson in Ystad now and then."
"You mean they were friends?"
"I wouldn't say that. I don't think they were that close. And that's what's interesting, it seems to me."
"I don't follow you," Wallander said.
"What I mean is this," she said. "Torstensson and Borman were both loners. One was married, the other a widower, but they were loners even so. They didn't meet very often, and when they did, it was to talk about icons. But don't you think that these two solitary men, caught up in a difficult situation, might confide in each other? They didn't have any real friends, but they did have each other."
"It's conceivable," Wallander said. "But it doesn't explain Borman's threatening letters to the whole firm of solicitors."
"The filing clerk, Lundin, wasn't threatened," she objected. "That might be more significant than we think."
Wallander leaned back in his chair and looked intently at her. "You think you're on to something."
"It's only speculation," she said. "Probably farfetched."
"We have nothing to lose by thinking," Wallander said. "I'm all ears."
"Let's suppose that Borman told Torstensson what had happened at the County Council. Fraud. I mean, they can't have talked about nothing but icons all the time. We know that Borman was disappointed and offended because there was no proper police investigation into what happened. Let's suppose, too, that Torstensson knew there was a link between Harderberg and that swindling company STRUFAB. He might have mentioned that he worked for Harderberg. Let's go a step further and suppose that Borman saw in Torstensson a solicitor with the same feelings about justice as he had himself, a sort of guardian angel. He asked for help. But Torstensson did nothing. You can interpret threatening letters in different ways."