One Step Behind

"How do I get out to the island?" he asked.

"That depends on where you are right now. Are you far away?

"I've just passed Kalmar. Västervik is 100 kilometres away, and then it's about another hundred after that."

"Then it'll be tight."

"What do you mean?"

"My contact in Valdemarsvik suggested that you take the post boat, but it leaves Fyrudden between 11 a.m. and 11.30."

"Is there no other way?"

"Oh, I'm sure there is. But you'll have to organise that once you get to the dock."

"I may be able to do that. Can't someone call the post office and tell them I'm on my way? Where does the post get sorted? In Norrköping?"

"I'm looking at a map right now," she said. "I think it would have to be in Gryt, if there's even a post office there."

"Where's that?"

"Between Valdemarsvik and Fyrudden harbour. Don't you even have a map with you?"

"Unfortunately I left it on my desk."

"Let me call you back," she said. "But I really think the best thing would be for you to go out with the post boat. If my colleague is right, it's the easiest way for people to get out to the islands. Those that don't have their own boats, of course, or anyone who's willing to come and get them."

Wallander understood what she meant.

"Good thinking," he said. "You mean that Isa Edengren may have taken the post boat herself?"

"It was just an idea."

Wallander thought for a moment. "But do you really think she made it up there by 11 a.m. if she left the hospital at 6 a.m.?"

"She may have," Höglund replied. "If she had a car, and Isa Edengren does have her licence. And we mustn't forget that she could have left the hospital as early as 4 a.m."

She promised to call him back. Wallander increased his speed. The traffic was getting heavier and there were a number of cars with trailers on the road. They reminded him that it was still summer, and holiday time. For a moment he considered turning on his police light, but decided against it. Instead he continued to increase his speed.

Höglund called him back after 20 minutes.

"I was right," she said. "The post gets sorted in Gryt. I even talked to the captain of the post boat. He sounded very nice."

"What was his name?"

"I didn't catch it. But he'll wait for you until midday. Otherwise he can come and get you later in the afternoon but I think that will cost you more."

"I was pla

"There's a car park next to the wharf," she said. "And the post boat is just across from it."

"Do you have his phone number?"

Wallander pulled over to the side of the road and wrote down the number. As he sat there he was passed by a lorry he had finally managed to overtake a little earlier.

It was 11.40 a.m. when Wallander drove down the hill towards Fyrudden harbour. He found a car park and then walked out onto the pier. There was a soft wind. The harbour was full of boats. A man in his 50s was loading the last of his boxes into a large motorboat. Wallander hesitated, having imagined that the post boat would look different. He had even expected a flag bearing the post office logo. The man, who had just set down a crate of soda water, looked at Wallander.

"Are you the one going out to Bärnsö?"

"That's me."

The man stepped onto the dock and reached out his hand. "Le

"I'm sorry I'm a little late."

"Oh, there's no hurry."

"I don't know if the woman who called told you but I have to get back somehow, either later this afternoon or tonight."

"You aren't spending the night?"

The situation was starting to get confusing. Wallander didn't even know if Höglund had told him that he was a policeman.

"I should tell you I'm a detective with the Ystad homicide unit," Wallander said and got out his identification. "I'm working on a particularly difficult and unpleasant case at the moment."

This postman called Westin was a fast thinker.

"Is it that case involving the young people that I read about in the paper? Wasn't there a police officer killed, too?"

Wallander nodded.

"I thought I recognised them from the picture in the paper," Westin said. "At least one of them. I had the feeling I had given them a ride a year or so ago."

"With Isa?"

"Yes, that's right. They were with her. I think it was late autumn a couple of years ago. There was a storm coming in from the southwest. I wasn't sure we could pull up to the Bärnsö landing. It's a particularly exposed spot when the wind is blowing from that direction. But we made it. One of their bags fell in the water, and we managed to fish it out. That's why I remember. But you should never be too sure of your memory."

"I think you're probably right," Wallander said. "Have you seen Isa recently? Today or the day before?"

"No."

"Does she normally catch a ride out with you?"

"When her parents are out here, they collect her. Otherwise she gets a ride with me."

"So she's not here now?"

"If she is, she went out with someone else."

"Who would that have been?"

Westin shrugged. "There are always people around out here who would be willing to give her a ride. Isa knows whom to call. But I think she would have asked me first."

Westin glanced at his watch. Wallander hurried back to his car to get the little bag he had packed. Then he got on the boat. Westin pointed to the map beside the steering wheel.

"I could take you directly to Bärnsö but that would be out of my way," he said. "Are you in a hurry? If we go to Bärnsö on my regular route we'll be there in an hour. I have three other stops first."

"That's fine."

"When do you want me to pick you up?"

Wallander thought for a moment. Isa was most likely not on the island. He had drawn the wrong conclusion, which was a disappointment. But now that he was here he might as well search the house. He would probably need a couple of hours.

"You don't need to make up your mind right now," Westin said and gave him his card. "You can reach me over the phone. I can either come by this afternoon or this evening. I live on an island that's not too far away."

He pointed it out on the map.

"I'll call you," Wallander said and put the card away.

Westin started both the engines and set off.

"How long have you been delivering the post?" Wallander asked. He had to shout to make himself heard above the engine noise.

"Too long," Westin shouted back. "More than 25 years now."

"What do you do in the winter?"

"Hydrocopter."

Wallander felt his exhaustion lifting. The speed, the experience of being out on the water, gave him a surprising sense of well-being. When had he last felt like this? Perhaps during those days with Linda on Gotland. He knew it must be hard work delivering the post in the archipelago. But right now all suggestion of storms and autumn darkness seemed far away. Westin looked over at him, as if he knew what he was thinking.

"Maybe that would be something for me," he said. "Being a policeman."

Normally Wallander rushed to defend his profession. But here with Westin, as they sped across the smooth surface of the water, the familiar topic coaxed a different response from him.

"Sometimes I have my doubts," he shouted. "But when you reach 50 you're kind of on your own. Most doors are closed."

"I turned 50 this spring," Westin said. "Everyone I know out here threw a big party."

"How many people out here do you know?"

"Everyone. It was a big party."

Westin turned the wheel and slowed the boat down. Right next to a big cliff there was a red boathouse and a pier built out over a row of old stone structures.

"Båtmansö Island," Westin said. "When I was a child there were nine families living out here – more than 30 people. Now there are people out here over the summer, but come winter there's only one. His name is Zetterquist and he's 93 years old, but he still makes it through the winter. He's been widowed three times. He's the kind of old man you don't meet any more. I think the national board of health must have outlawed them."