One Step Behind

"Should we give them a call right now?" Martinsson asked.

"Or visit them in person," Wallander said, thinking. "No, let's start by calling."

"You'd better do it," Martinsson said. "Danes never understand my Swedish."

"You're the one who doesn't understand them," Wallander said gently. "Since you never listen properly."

"I'll find out where Bärnsö is. Why did you want to know that?"

"I'm trying to figure that out myself," Wallander answered and dialled the number. A woman answered. He introduced himself and explained what he wanted to know.

"The wig was rented by Isa Edengren, from Skårby, Sweden," he said.

"I'll check. Just a moment," she said.

Wallander waited. He could hear Martinsson asking someone for the number of the coast guard. The woman came back to the phone.

"There's no record of any rentals to Isa Edengren," she said. "Not on that day nor the days before."

"I'll give you another name to try," Wallander said.

"I'm the only person working here right now and I have some customers. Can it wait?"

"No. If you can't help me, I'll have to contact the Danish police."

She made no further protests and he gave her the other names – Martin Boge, Lena Norman and Astrid Hillström. Then he waited again. Martinsson sounded irritated. He didn't seem to be getting anywhere. The woman returned.

"Yes, that's right," she said. "Lena Norman came in and rented four wigs and some costumes on 19 June. It was all due back on 28 June but she hasn't shown up. We were just about to send off a reminder."

"Do you remember serving her? Was she alone?"

"My colleague was here that day. His name is Mr Sørensen."

"Can I talk to him?"

"He's on holiday until the end of August."

"Where is he?"

"He's on his way to the Antarctic."

"Where?"

"He's on his way to the South Pole. He's visiting some old Norwegian whale fishing stations along the way. Mr Sørensen's father was a whale fisherman. I think he was even the one who operated the harpoon."

"So there's no one at the shop who can identify Lena Norman, or tell me if she came in alone to rent the wigs?"

"No, I'm sorry. Of course, we would like to have them back. Otherwise we'll have to charge a replacement fee."

"It'll be a little while. They're involved in a case we're working on."

"Has anything happened?"

"You could say that, but I'll explain later. Please tell Mr Sørensen to contact the Ystad police as soon as he returns."

"I'll tell him. Wallander, was it?"

"Kurt Wallander."

Wallander hung up. So Lena Norman had been in Copenhagen. But had she gone there alone?

Martinsson came back into the room. "Bärnsö Island is off the coast of Östergätland," he said. "Or more precisely, it's part of the Gryt archipelago. There's also a Bärnsö way up north, but that's more of a reef."

Wallander told him about his conversation with the fancy dress shop in Copenhagen.

"We should talk to Lena Norman's parents," Martinsson said.

"I would have liked to wait a few days," Wallander said, "but I don't think that will be possible."

They both sat quietly for a moment, considering what lay ahead of them. At that moment they heard the front door open. They were both struck by the thought that it might be Isa Edengren. When they went to the top of the stairs, however, they saw Lundberg standing in the hall. When he caught sight of them he kicked off his boots and walked upstairs.

"Has Isa been in touch with you?" Wallander asked.

"No, it's something else. I don't mean to take up your time, but there was something you said when we were talking in the yard, about me calling the hospital to ask how Isa was."

"It was perfectly natural for you to want to know how she was doing."

Lundberg looked at Wallander with concern. "But that's just it. I didn't call, and neither did my wife. We didn't call to see how she was, although we should have."

Wallander and Martinsson exchanged glances.

"You didn't call?"

"No. Neither one of us."

"Is there another Lundberg who might have called?"

"Who would that be?"

Wallander looked thoughtfully at the man in front of him. There was no reason to doubt he was telling the truth. So someone else had called the hospital. Someone who knew that Isa was in close contact with the Lundbergs. Someone who also knew that she was there. But what had that person wanted to know? That Isa was getting better, or if she had died?

"I just don't understand. Who would pretend to be me?" Lundberg asked.

"You're the one who can best answer that question," Wallander said. "Who knew that Isa used to come to you when she had problems with her parents?"

"Everyone in the village knew," Lundberg said. "But I can't think of anyone who would have called and used my name."

"Someone could have seen the ambulance," Martinsson said. "Did no one call to ask what had happened?"

"Karin Persson called," Lundberg said. "She lives in the hollow down by the main road. She's very curious and keeps tabs on everyone. But I can't imagine she can make herself sound like a man on the phone."

"Was there no one else?"

"Åke Nilsson dropped by on his way back from work. He brought some pork chops. We told him what had happened, but he didn't even know Isa so he wouldn't have called."

"Anyone else?"

"The postman came by with some unexpected news. We won 300 kronor in the Lottery. He wanted to know if the Edengrens were home. We told him that Isa was in the hospital, but what reason would he have to call?"

"There was no one else?"

"No."

"You did the right thing in telling us about this," Wallander said firmly, ending the conversation. Lundberg went back down the stairs, pulled his boots back on and left.

"When I was out at the nature reserve last night," Wallander said, "I had the feeling that I was being watched by someone in the darkness. I thought I'd imagined it, but now I'm starting to wonder. This morning I even asked Edmundsson to examine the spot with his dog. Is someone keeping an eye on us?"

"I know what Svedberg would have said."

Wallander looked at Martinsson with surprise. "What would he have said?"

"It was something he said when we were working on the smuggling case, during the spring of 1988, if you remember. That we should stop from time to time and look back over our shoulders. Like the Indians."

"What would we see?"

"Someone who shouldn't be there."

"That would mean we should station men out here to keep watch over the house, in case someone decides to search Isa's room. Is that what you mean?"

"Something like that."

"There's no 'something' about it. You either think that's what we should do, or you don't."

"I'm just telling you what I think Svedberg would have said."

Wallander realised how tired he felt. His irritation lay just below the surface. He knew he should apologise to Martinsson, just as he should have explained himself to Höglund at the nature reserve. But he didn't.

They went back to Isa's room. The wig was lying on the desk next to Wallander's phone. He knelt down and looked under the bed, but found nothing. When he stood up he felt dizzy. He grabbed Martinsson's arm to steady himself.

"Don't you feel well?"

Wallander shook his head. "It's been years since I could stay up this many nights in a row without really feeling it. It'll happen to you, too."

"We should ask Lisa for extra staff."

"She's already talked to me about it." Wallander said. "I told her we'd get back to her. Is there anything else we need to look at here?"

"I don't think so. There's nothing unusual in the cupboard."

"How about anything that seems to be missing? Anything that should be in a young woman's cupboard that isn't there?"

"Nothing that I can think of."