One Step Behind

Wallander now took out the glass he had taken from the flat and placed it on the table.

"If we're lucky, there are prints on this glass," he said. "And if I'm right, they're going to match the ones we found in Svedberg's flat, as well as the ones in the nature reserve."

"What about Sundelius?" Höglund asked. "Shouldn't we wake him up as well? He may know something about Larstam."

Wallander nodded and glanced briefly at Thurnberg, who seemed to have no objections.

"Why don't you do the honours, A

Thurnberg nodded. "That sounds reasonable enough," he said. "But let me just ask this: is there any possibility that we're mistaken?"

"No," Wallander said. "We're not mistaken."

"I just want to make sure, since the only thing we really have on this man is a file of newspaper clippings."

Wallander felt perfectly calm as he answered. "It's him. There's not a single doubt in my mind."

They made the conference room their provisional headquarters. Wallander was still in his chair at the end of the table when they brought in Kjell Albinsson. He was very pale and seemed bewildered at having been woken up in the middle of the night and brought to the police station. Wallander asked someone to bring him a cup of coffee. In the background he saw Höglund go by with an indignant Sundelius.

"I want to explain the whole situation to you," he began. "We think Åke Larstam is the person who killed a police officer by the name of Svedberg a few weeks ago, the same man who was buried yesterday."

Albinsson went whiter still. "That's just not possible."

"There's more," Wallander said. "We're also convinced he killed three young people in Hagestad's nature reserve, as well as a young woman on an island in the Östergöt-land archipelago, and finally a couple of newly-weds out in Nybrostrand. What I'm telling you is that this person has killed eight people in a relatively short space of time, making him one of the worst mass murderers that Sweden has ever had."

Albinsson simply shook his head. "There has to be some mistake. It can't be Åke."

"I wouldn't be talking with you now if I wasn't utterly certain. You must take my word for it, and make sure you answer my questions as thoroughly as you can. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Thurnberg walked in and sat across the table from Albinsson without a word.

"This is chief prosecutor Thurnberg," Wallander said. "The fact that he's here means you're not being charged with anything."

Albinsson didn't seem to understand. "I'm not charged with anything?"

"That's what I said. Now try to concentrate on my questions."

Albinsson nodded. The realisation of where he was and why seemed slowly to be sinking in.

"Åke Larstam lives at number 18, Harmonigatan," Wallander said. "We know he isn't there now, and we suspect he's fled. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"

"I don't really know him outside work."

"Does he have a summer house? Any close friends?"

"Not that I know of."

"You must know something."

"There's some information about him in the employee records. But all that's kept at the depot."

Wallander swore under his breath. He should have thought of that himself. "Then we'll get it," he said. "Now."

He called in some patrol officers and sent them off with Albinsson. When he returned to his seat, Thurnberg was making notes on a pad.

"How did you enter the flat in the first place?" he said.

"I broke in," Wallander said. "Nyberg was present but the responsibility was wholly mine."

"I hope you're right about Larstam. Otherwise this is going to look very bad."

"I envy you that you should have time to think about such things right now."

"You have to understand my position," Thurnberg said. "Sometimes people make mistakes."

Wallander controlled his temper with some difficulty.

"I don't want another murder on my hands," he said. "That's the bottom line. And Åke Larstam is the man we've been looking for."

"No one wants any more murders," Thurnberg said. "But we also don't want any more police errors."

Wallander was about to ask Thurnberg what he meant by this when Martinsson came in.

"Nyberg called," he said. "The lights in the window haven't changed."

"What about the neighbours?" Wallander asked.

"Where do you want me to start?" Martinsson asked. "With Larstam and the police records? Or with the neighbours?"

"You should do both at the same time. But if we can find anything on Larstam in our files, it would be useful."

Martinsson left and silence filled the room. Somewhere a dog barked and Wallander wondered absently if it was Kall. It was just before 3 a.m. Wallander left to get some coffee. The door to Höglund's office was closed. She was in there with Sundelius. For a moment he wondered if he should go in, but he decided against it.

Wallander returned to the conference room and saw that Thurnberg had left. He glanced at his pad to see what Thurnberg had written. Dashes, ashes, lashes. A random series of rhyming words. Wallander shook his head.

Five minutes went by, then Albinsson came in. He was less pale now. He held a yellow folder in his hands.

"These are confidential records," he said. "I should really consult the postmaster before handing them over."

"If you do that I'll get the chief prosecutor back in here," Wallander said, "and have you arrested for obstruction of justice and aiding a criminal."

Albinsson seemed to take this seriously. Wallander stretched out his hand and took the file. The records confirmed what Albinsson had already told him. From the begi

There was little personal information. Åke Larstam had been born on 10 November 1952, in Eskilstuna. His full name was Åke Leonard Larstam. He had graduated from high school in 1970, had done his compulsory military training in Skövde the following year, then had enrolled at the prestigious Chalmers School of Engineering in Gothenburg in 1972. He had graduated from Chalmers in 1979 and taken a job in Stockholm with Strand Consulting. He'd worked there until 1985, when he'd given notice and started to retrain for the postal service. That year he had moved first to Höör and then to Ystad. He was unmarried and had no children. The space allotted to "emergency contact" was blank.

"Doesn't this man even have any relatives?"

"Apparently not," Albinsson said.

"But he must have socialised with someone."

"He was very private, as I said."

Wallander put down the file. All of the facts would be verified, but for now Wallander had to concentrate on finding where Larstam was.

"No one is completely without personal relationships," Wallander said. "Who did he talk to? Who did he have coffee with? Did he have any strong opinions? There has to be something more you can say about him."

"We talked about him sometimes," Albinsson said. "He was so hard to get to know. But since he was always so friendly and helpful, everyone left him alone. You can grow fond of people you know nothing about."

Wallander thought about what Albinsson had just said. Then he chose a different tack.

"Some of these jobs were long-term, some just a matter of days. Did you ever know him to turn down an assignment?"

"No."

"So he didn't seem to have another job?"

"Not that we knew about. He could get ready at a few hours' notice."

"That means you always managed to get hold of him."

"Yes."

"He was always at home waiting for the phone to ring?"

Albinsson was very serious when he answered. "It seemed like that."