The Dogs of Riga

"What did you say?"

"Stop shouting! And don't speak so fast!" "How's it going?"

"Slowly. I don't even know if we're getting anywhere." "Hello?"

"I said it's going slowly. Can you hear me?" "Only just. Don't speak so fast. Stop shouting. Are you OK?"

All of a sudden the co

"That's better. I didn't hear what you said."

"It's going slowly, and I don't know if we're getting anywhere. A colonel by the name of Putnis has been questioning a suspect since yesterday, but I've no idea where that will lead."

"Do you think you can be of use?"

Wallander hesitated, then replied confidently. "Yes," he said. "I think it's good for me to be here – if you can spare me for a bit longer."

"There's been nothing special here. It's pretty quiet. You can concentrate on what you're doing."

"Any leads on the life-raft?"

"Not a thing."

"Is there anything else I ought to know? Have you got Martinsson there?"

"Martinsson's in bed with flu. We've dropped the preliminary investigation now that Latvia's taken over. We've got nothing new to contribute."

"Have you had any snow?"

Wallander didn't hear Björk's reply. The telephone link was cut off, as if somebody had taken a pair of scissors to it. Wallander replaced the receiver, and it occurred to him that he ought to phone his father. He still hadn't sent the postcards he'd written. Maybe he ought to buy some souvenirs of Riga? What on earth could one take home from Latvia? He pushed away a vague feeling of homesickness, drank the remains of his cold coffee and went back to his notes. After half an hour he leaned back in his creaking desk chair and stretched. At last he was begi

He wrote her name on a piece of paper and drew a ring round it. He put an exclamation mark after her name. Then he wrote Murniers's name and put a question mark after it. He gathered his papers together, stood up and went out into the corridor. When he knocked on Murniers's door, he heard a grunting noise and on entering found Murniers on the phone. The colonel pointed to one of the uncomfortable visitors' chairs, and Wallander sat down, and waited. He listened to what Murniers was saying. It seemed to be a heated conversation, and occasionally the colonel's voice rose to a bellow. Wallander realised there was considerable strength confined within that swollen, neglected body. He couldn't understand a word of what was being said, but it suddenly dawned on him that Murniers was not speaking Latvian – the intonation was different. It was a while before it occurred to him that Murniers must be speaking Russian. The conversation ended with Murniers firing off a salvo that sounded like a string of peremptory orders, then slamming down the receiver.

"Idiots," he muttered, wiping his face with his handkerchief. He turned to Wallander, cool and collected once more, and smiled. "It's always difficult when one's subordinates don't do what they're supposed to do. Do you have the same problem in Sweden?"

"Often," Wallander replied politely.

He watched the man sitting opposite. Could he have murdered Major Liepa? Of course he could! The experience he'd gained during his years in the police force had given him this unambiguous answer: there are no murderers. Only ordinary people who commit murder.

"I thought perhaps we could go through all the material one more time," Murniers said. "I'm convinced the man Colonel Putnis is interrogating is involved in some way or other, but while the questioning is going on perhaps we might be able to find some new angles?"

Wallander decided to take the bull by the horns. "I feel that the investigation of the crime scene is inadequate," he said. Murniers raised an eyebrow. "In what way?"

"Sergeant Zids translated the report for me, and several details didn't ring true. To start with, nobody seems to have bothered to search the quay itself."

"What might have been found there?"

"Tyre marks. Major Liepa would hardly have walked out to the harbour that night."

Wallander waited for Murniers to comment, but as the colonel said nothing, he continued.

"Nobody seems to have looked for a murder weapon either. My overall impression is that the murder couldn't have been committed where the body was found. The reports that Sergeant Zids translated for me state that the scene of the crime and the place where the body was found are identical, but they provide no evidence to support this. What strikes me as oddest of all, though, is that no witnesses have been questioned."

"There were no witnesses," Murniers said.

"How do you know?"

"We've spoken to the security officers at the harbour. Nobody saw anything. Besides, Riga is a city that sleeps at night."

"I was thinking rather about the district where Major Liepa lived. It was late at night when he left the house. Somebody might have heard a door closing and checked to see who was going out so late. A car might have stopped. There's nearly always somebody who saw or heard something, if only you dig deep enough."

Murniers nodded. "That's exactly what we're doing just now," he said. "A number of police officers are currently knocking on doors with a photo of Major Liepa."

"Don't you think that's a bit late? People soon forget. Or they mix up days and dates. Major Liepa used to go up and down those stairs to his flat every day."

"Sometimes it can be advantageous to wait a little," Murniers answered. "When the rumour that Major Liepa had been murdered started to spread, people claimed to have seen all kinds of things. Or they imagined they had. Waiting for a few days can be a way of getting people to reflect, to sort out the difference between what they imagined they might have seen, and accurate observations."

Wallander knew that Murniers had a point, but his own experience was that it could be helpful to conduct two door-to-door exercises, with a few days between visits.

"Is there anything else that concerns you?" Murniers asked.

"What did Major Liepa have on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Was he in uniform, or in civilian clothes?"

"In uniform. He'd told his wife he had to go on duty."

"What did they find in his pockets?"

"Cigarettes and matches. Some small change. A pen. Nothing that had no business to be there. There was nothing missing, either. His identity card was in his breast pocket, and he'd left his wallet at home."

"Was he carrying his gun?"

"Major Liepa preferred not to carry a gun unless there was a real risk that he might be forced to use it."

"How did he generally get to the police station?"

"He had a car with a driver, of course, but often he chose to walk. God knows why."

"In the case notes it says that Baiba Liepa doesn't recall having heard a car stop outside."

"Of course not. He wasn't going on duty – he'd been tricked."

"He didn't know that at the time, though. Since he didn't go back inside, he must have assumed something had happened to the car. What did he do then?"

"Presumably he started walking. We can't be sure."

Wallander had no more questions, but was now certain that the investigation had been conducted badly. So badly that it gave the impression of having been set up. But in order to conceal what?

"I'd like to spend some hours nosing around his home and the surrounding streets," Wallander said. "Sergeant Zids can help me."

"You won't find anything," Murniers assured him, "but you're welcome to. If anything crucial comes out of the interrogation, I'll send for you."