One Step Behind

True, Wallander thought. At least he isn't going senile.

"I'd like to meet with you," Wallander said. "Here or at your place, preferably tomorrow morning."

"I used to go to work every day. Now I climb the walls," Sundelius said. "I have an endless amount of time that simply goes to waste. You can come tomorrow any time after 4.30 a.m. I live on Vädergränd. My legs aren't so good. How old are you, Inspector?"

"I'll be 50 soon."

"Then your legs are better than mine. At your age it's important to keep moving. Otherwise you'll develop heart problems or diabetes."

Wallander listened to him with surprise.

"Are you still there, Inspector?"

"Yes," said Wallander. "I'm here. How about 9 a.m.?"

They crowded into the conference room at 7.30 p.m. Lisa Holgersson had arrived early with the chief prosecutor filling in for Per Åkeson, who was in Uganda. Åkeson had taken a leave of absence and was working for the International Refugee Commission. He had been gone almost eight months and sent Wallander letters every now and then, describing his daily life, and the dramatic ways in which the new environment and work were changing him. Wallander missed him, even though they had never been close. He also sometimes felt a stab of envy when he thought about the decision Åkeson had made. Would he ever be anything other than a policeman? He would soon turn 50. The chances of starting something new were shrinking rapidly.

The acting chief prosecutor, Thurnberg, had come down from Örebro. Wallander had not had a lot to do with him up until now, as Thurnberg had only started in Ystad in the middle of May. He was a couple of years younger than Wallander, fit and quick-witted. Wallander had not yet decided what he thought about him. On a previous encounter, he had appeared rather arrogant.

Wallander knocked on the table with his pencil and looked around the room. Svedberg's chair was still empty. He wondered when someone was going to start using it. Wallander began by telling them about his find at Björklund's house, since he was expecting him to be back from Copenhagen later that evening.

"Before this meeting we were talking about something else that strikes us as odd," Martinsson said. "There are no diaries. I've asked the others, but none of the three seem to have kept a diary or a pocket calendar."

"There are no letters either," Hansson said.

"These people seem to have erased all traces of themselves," Höglund said.

"Is that the case with the others, too? The ones who were in Svedberg's photograph?"

"Yes," Martinsson said. "But we should probably probe further."

Martinsson flipped through his notes and was about to add something when there was a knock on the door. An officer came in and nodded in Wallander's direction.

"Björklund has just got home."

Wallander got up. "I'll go out there alone. It won't be an arrest, after all. We'll continue when I get back."

Nyberg got up as well. "I should probably have a look at the telescope right away," he said.

They drove out to Hedeskoga in Nyberg's car. The unmarked police car was still parked at the intersection. Wallander got out and spoke to the officer behind the wheel.

"He arrived about 20 minutes ago in a Mazda."

"Then you can go back," Wallander said.

"You don't want us to stay?"

"It won't be necessary."

Wallander got back in the car and they pulled up outside the house.

"He's home," he said to Nyberg. "No doubt about that."

Music was coming from an open window. It had a Latin beat. Wallander rang the bell and the music was turned down. Björklund opened the door wearing only a pair of shorts.

"I have a couple of questions that couldn't wait," Wallander said.

Björklund seemed to think for a moment, then smiled. "Now I understand," he said.

"What do you understand?"

"Why that car was parked up by the turn-off."

Wallander nodded. "I was looking for you earlier today. My questions can't wait."

Björklund let them in and Wallander introduced Nyberg.

"Once upon a time I also thought about becoming a forensic technician," Björklund said. "The idea of dedicating my life to interpreting evidence was appealing to me."

"It's not as exciting as you'd think," Nyberg replied.

Björklund looked mildly astonished.

"I wasn't talking about adventure," he said. "I was talking about being a person who follows traces."

They stopped in the entrance to the big room. Wallander noted Nyberg's amazement at Björklund's menage.

"I'm going to get right to the point," he said. "You have a small shed to the east of the house. There's an instrument in there hidden under a piece of tarpaulin. I think it's a telescope, and I want to determine whether or not it came from Svedberg's flat."

Björklund balked. "A telescope? In my shed?"

"Yes."

Björklund instinctively took a step back. "Who's been snooping around out here?"

"I told you that I came looking for you earlier today. The door to your shed was open and I went in. I found the telescope."

"Is that legal? Are the police allowed to enter other people's homes at will?"

"If you have an opinion to the contrary, feel free to make a report to the ombudsman."

Björklund looked at him with animosity. "I think I will," he said.

"For God's sake," Nyberg interrupted angrily. "Let's just get this cleared up."

"So you claim to have no knowledge of a telescope on your property."

"That's right."

"Do you realise that doesn't sound very believable?"

"I don't care what it sounds like. As far as I'm concerned, there's no telescope anywhere on my property."

"We'll soon determine whether that's the case," Wallander said. "If you refuse to cooperate I'll leave Nyberg here and get a search warrant from the chief prosecutor. You should have no doubts about that."

Björklund was still hostile. "Am I accused of a crime?"

"For now I simply want an answer to my question."

"I've already given you one."

"So you deny knowledge of the telescope? Could Svedberg have put it there without your knowledge?"

"Why would he have done that?"

"I'm simply asking if it's possible, that's all."

"Of course he could have done it while I was away over the summer. I never check what's in the shed."

Wallander sensed that Björklund was telling the truth, and experienced this as a relief.

"Shall we go and look?"

Björklund nodded and slipped on some clogs. His upper body was still bare.

When they had arrived at the shed and turned on the light, Wallander pulled the others back and turned to Björklund.

"Does anything in here look different?"

"Like what?"

"It's your shed. You should know."

Björklund looked around and shrugged. "It looks like it normally does."

Wallander directed them into the corner and lifted the tarpaulin. Björklund's surprise seemed genuine.

"I have no idea how that got there," he said.

Nyberg crouched down to have a better look, directing a strong torch beam at it.

"I don't think we need to speculate further about who it belongs to," he said, pointing to something.

Wallander looked more closely and saw a small metal plate with Svedberg's name on it. Björklund no longer seemed angry.

"I don't understand," he said. "Why would Karl Evert hide his telescope here?"

"Let's go back inside and leave Nyberg to his work," Wallander said.

As they walked back to the house, Björklund asked if he wanted some coffee. Wallander said no. He seated himself for a second time on the uncomfortable pew.

"Do you have any idea how long it could have been there?"

Björklund now seemed to be trying to give thorough answers.

"I don't have a good memory for rooms," he said. "My memory for objects is even worse. I don't think I could come up with any kind of a time frame for you."