Wallander could feel something gnawing away in his stomach. He tried to conceal his disquiet from the man in the chair before him.
A mother with two children, member of a free church, he thought to himself. She wouldn’t just disappear of her own accord. Not unless she’d gone out of her mind. Or been possessed by religion. A mother of two children would hardly stroll out into the forest and take her own life. Such things do happen, but very rarely.
Wallander knew what was afoot.
Either there had been an accident, or Louise Akerblom was the victim of a crime.
“Of course, you realize there might have been an accident,” he said.
“I’ve called every hospital in Skane,” said Robert Akerblom. “She hasn’t been admitted anywhere. Besides, a hospital would have been in touch with me if anything had happened. Louise always had her ID card on her.”
“What make of car did she drive?” asked Wallander.
“A Toyota Corolla. 1990 model. Dark blue. Registration number MHL 449.”
Wallander wrote it all down.
Then he went back to the beginning again, methodically going through the details Robert Akerblom knew about what his wife was doing that afternoon. They looked at maps, and Wallander could feel unease growing within him.
For God’s sake, let’s not have the murder of a woman on our plates, he thought. Anything but that.
Wallander put down his pen at a quarter to eleven.
“There’s no reason to suppose that your wife won’t be found safe and sound,” he said, hoping his skepticism was not/apparent. “But needless to say, we’ll treat your report with the utmost seriousness.”
Robert Akerblom was slumped down on the chair. Wallander was afraid he might start bawling again. He suddenly felt incredibly sorry for him. He would have loved to console him. But how could he do that without showing how worried he really felt?
He got up from his chair.
“I’d like to listen to her telephone message,” he said. “Then I’ll drive over to Skurup and call in at the bank. Have you got somebody to help out with the children?”
“I don’t need any help,” said Robert Akerblom. “I can manage on my own. What do you think has happened to Louise, Inspector?”
“I don’t think anything at all as yet,” replied Wallander. “Except that she’ll soon be back home again.”
I’m lying, he thought.
I don’t think that. I’m just hoping.
Wallander followed Robert Akerblom back into town. As soon as he had listened to the message on the answering machine and gone through her desk drawers, he’d go back to the office and talk to Bjork. Even if there were very clear procedures for how to go about looking for a missing person, Wallander wanted all available resources placed at his disposal right away. The disappearance of Louise Akerblom indicated from the start that a crime had been committed.
Akerblom’s Real Estate was located in a former grocery store. Wallander recalled it from his first year in Ystad, when he’d arrived as a young cop from Malmo. There were a couple of desks, and some stands with photographs and descriptions of properties. There was a table with visitors’ chairs where clients could delve into the details of the various properties they were interested in. On the wall were a couple of ordinance survey maps, covered in pins of various colors. There was a little kitchen behind the office itself.
They entered the back way, but even so, Wallander noticed the handwritten card taped to the front door: “Closed Today.”
“Which is your desk?” asked Wallander.
Robert Akerblom pointed. Wallander sat down at the other desk. It was empty, apart from a diary, a photo of their two daughters, a few files and a pen stand. Wallander had the impression it had recently been tidied up.
“Who does the cleaning?” he asked.
“We have a cleaner who comes in three times a week,” Robert Akerblom replied. “Mind you, we generally do the dusting and empty the wastebaskets every day ourselves.”
Wallander nodded. Then he took a look around the office. The only thing that struck him as being odd was a little crucifix on the wall by the kitchen door.
Then he nodded at the answering machine.
“It’ll come right away,” said Robert Akerblom. “It was the only message we had after three o’clock on Friday.”
First impressions, was what Wallander was thinking. Listen carefully now.
Hi there! I’m just going to take a look at a house at Krageholm. Then I’ll be off to Ystad. It’s a quarter after three. I’ll be home by five.
Cheerful, thought Wallander. She sounds happy and keen. Not threatened, not scared.
“One more time,” said Wallander. “But first I want to hear what you yourself say on the tape. If you still have that?”
Robert Akerblom nodded, rewound the cassette, and pressed a button.
Welcome to Akerblom’s Real Estate. Right now we’re out on business. But we’ll be open again as usual on Monday morning, eight o’clock. If you would like to leave a message or send a fax, please do so after the beep. Thank you for calling, and we look forward to hearing from you again.
Wallander could hear that Robert Akerblom was not comfortable when confronted with the answering machine’s microphone. His voice sounded slightly strained.
Then he turned his attention to Louise Akerblom again, and asked her husband to wind the tape back time after time.
Wallander tried to listen for some message that might have been concealed behind the words. He had no idea what it might be. But he tried even so.
When he had heard the tape some ten times, he nodded to Robert Akerblom, indicating that was enough.
“I’ll have to take the cassette with me,” he said. “We can amplify the sound at the station.”
Robert Akerblom took out the little cassette and handed it to Wallander.
“I’d like you to do something for me while I’m going through the drawers in her desk,” said Wallander. “Write down everything she did or was going to do last Friday. Who she was due to meet, and where. Write down what route you think she would have taken as well. Note the times. And I want an exact description of where that house is, the one she was going to look at near Krageholm.”
“I can’t tell you that,” said Robert Akerblom.
Wallander looked at him in surprise.
“It was Louise who took the call from the lady who wanted to sell the house,” explained Robert Akerblom. “She drew a map for herself, and took it with her. She wouldn’t be putting all the details into a file until today. If we’d taken on the house either she or I would have gone back there to take a photograph.”
Wallander thought for a moment.
“In other words, at the moment Louise is the only one who knows where the house is,” he said.
Robert Akerblom nodded.
“When would the lady who called get in touch again?” Wallander went on.
“Some time today,” said Robert Akerblom. “That’s why Louise wanted to try and see the house on Friday.”
“It’s important that you’re here when she calls,” said Wallander. “Say that your wife has taken a look at the house, but unfortunately she’s sick today. Ask for a description of how to get there again, and take her telephone number. As soon as she’s been in touch, give me a call.”
Robert Akerblom nodded to show he’d understood. Then he sat down to write out the details Wallander wanted.
Wallander opened the desk drawers one at a time. He found nothing that seemed significant. None of the drawers appeared to be recently emptied. He lifted the green blotting pad, and found a recipe for hamburgers, torn from a magazine. Then he contemplated the photo of the two daughters.
He got up and went out into the kitchen. Hanging on one of the walls was a calendar and a sampler with a quotation from the Bible. A small jar of coffee was on one of the shelves, unopened. On another were several kinds of tea. He opened the refrigerator. A liter of milk and some margarine.