The Man Who Smiled (19 page)

"I can see three lines of attack," Wallander said in conclusion. "We can concentrate on Gustaf Torstensson and his clients. We must delve deeply but rapidly into just what he was up to those last five years while he devoted himself more or less exclusively to financial advice and similar matters. But to save time we should start off with the last three years during which time, according to Mrs Dunér, he started to change. I would also like somebody to have a word with the Asian woman who cleans the offices. Mrs Dunér has her address. She might have seen or heard something."

"Does she speak Swedish?" Svedberg said.

"If not we'll have to arrange for an interpreter," Wallander said.

"I'll talk to her," Höglund said.

Wallander took a sip of his cold coffee before going on. "The second line of attack is Lars Borman. I have a suspicion that he can still be of help to us, even though he's dead."

"We'll need the support of our colleagues in Malmö," Björk said. "Klagshamn is in their territory."

"I would rather not," Wallander said. "It would be quicker to deal with it ourselves. As you keep pointing out, there are all kinds of administrative problems when police officers from different districts try to help each other."

While Björk pondered his response, Wallander took the opportunity to finish what he had to say. "The third line is to find out who's following us. Perhaps I should ask whether anybody else has had a car trailing them?"

Martinsson and Svedberg shook their heads.

"There's every reason for you to keep your eyes peeled," Wallander said. "I could be wrong, it might not just be me they're after."

"Mrs Dunér is being guarded," Martinsson said. "And in my view you ought to be as well."

"No," Wallander said. "That's not necessary."

"I can't go along with that," Björk said firmly. "In the first place you must never go out on duty alone. And furthermore you must be armed."

"Never," Wallander said.

"You'll do as I say," Björk said.

Wallander didn't bother to argue. He knew what he was going to do anyway.

They divided the work between them. Martinsson and Höglund would go to the solicitors' offices and begin sifting through the Gustaf Torstensson files. Svedberg would do a thorough search into the cars that had been following them to Helsingborg. Wallander would concentrate on Borman.

"For some days now I have had the feeling that it's all very urgent," he said. "I don't know why. But let's get a move on."

The meeting broke up and they went their different ways. Wallander could sense the resolve in everybody's attitude, and he noted that Höglund was coping well with her exhaustion.

He fetched another cup of coffee and went back to his office to work out what to do next. Nyberg stuck his head round the door and announced that he was about to set off for the burned-out car at Svedala.

"I take it you want me to see if there's any similarity to the explosion in Mrs Dunér’s garden," he said. "Yes," Wallander said.

"I don't expect to be able to establish that," Nyberg said, "but I'll have a go."

Nyberg went on his way and Wallander called reception.

"It's awful, these terrible things happening," Ebba said.

"Nobody was hurt," Wallander said. "That's the main thing." He came straight to the point.

"Can you get hold of a car for me, please? I have to go to Malmö in a few minutes. Then I'd like you to phone Farnholm Castle and get them to send me a copy of their overview of Alfred Harderberg's business empire. I did have a file but it got burned up in the car."

"I'd better not tell them that," Ebba said.

"Maybe not. But I need that file as quickly as they can manage it."

He hung up. Then a thought struck him. He went down the corridor to Svedberg's office, and found him just starting to go through Martinsson's notes about the cars from the previous night.

"Kurt Ström," he said. "Does that name mean anything to you?"

Svedberg thought for a moment. "A police officer in Malmö? Or am I wrong?"

"That's right," Wallander said. "I'd like you to do something for me when you've finished with the cars. Ström left the force many years ago. There was a rumour that he resigned before he was sacked. Try and find out what happened. Be discreet."

Svedberg made a note of the name. "Might I ask why? Has it anything to do with the solicitors? The car that got blown up? The mine in the garden?"

"Everything has to do with that," Wallander said. "Ström is working now as top security guard at Farnholm Castle. Gustaf Torstensson had been there the night he died."

"I'll look into it" Svedberg said.

Wallander went back to his office and sat down at his desk. He was very tired. He didn't even have the strength to think about how close he and Höglund had been to getting killed. Later, he thought. Not now. Borman dead is more important just now than Wallander alive.

He looked up the Malmöhus County Offices in the phone book. He knew from past experience that it was located in Lund. He dialled the number and got a reply immediately. He asked the operator to put him through to one of the bosses in the finance department.

"They're not available today," the operator said.

"There must be somebody available, surely?"

"They're in a budget meeting all day," the girl explained patiently.

"Where?"

"At the conference centre in Höör," the girl said. "But there's no point in phoning there."

"What's the name of the man in charge of auditing? Is he there as well?"

"His name's Thomas Rundstedt," the girl said. "Yes, he's in Hoor too. Perhaps you could try again tomorrow?"

"Many thanks for your help," Wallander said, and hung up.

He had no intention of waiting until the next day. He fetched yet another cup of coffee and thought through all he knew about Lars Borman. He was interrupted by Ebba who called to say there was a car waiting for him outside the police station.

It was 9.15. A clear autumn day, blue skies, and Wallander noted that the wind had died down. He found himself looking forward to his drive.

It was just turning 10.00 when he drove up to the conference centre near Höör. He parked the car and went to reception. A notice on a blackboard and easel informed him that the big conference hall was occupied by the County Offices Budget Conference. A red-haired man behind the desk gave Wallander a friendly smile.

"I'm trying to get hold of some people taking part in the budget conference," he said.

"They've just had their coffee break," the receptionist replied. "They'll be in session now right through until lunch at 12.30. I'm afraid it's not possible to disturb them before then."

Wallander produced his police ID. "I'm afraid it's sometimes necessary to disturb people," he said. "I'll write a note for you to take in."

He pulled over a notepad and started writing.

"Has something happened?" the receptionist said, sounding worried.

"Nothing too serious. But it can't wait, I'm afraid." He tore off the page. "It's for a man called Thomas Rundstedt, the chief auditor," he said. "I'll wait here."

The receptionist went out. Wallander yawned. He felt hungry. He could see a dining room through a half-open door. He went to investigate. There was a plate of cheese sandwiches standing on a table. He took one and ate it. Then another. Then he went back to the sofa in reception.

It was another five minutes before the receptionist reappeared. He was accompanied by a man Wallander assumed was the person he was looking for, Mr Rundstedt.

The man was tall and broad-shouldered. It occurred to Wallander that he had always thought accountants were short and thin. The man facing him could have been a boxer. He was also bald, and eyed Wallander up and down suspiciously.

"My name's Kurt Wallander and I'm a detective inspector with the Ystad police," he said, reaching out his hand. "I take it you're Thomas Rundstedt and Auditor-in-Chief at the Malmöhus County Offices."

The man nodded abruptly. "What's this all about?" he said. "We specifically asked not to be disturbed. The financial affairs of the County Offices are not to be trifled with. Especially just now."

"I'm sure they're not," Wallander said. "I won't keep you long. Does the name Lars Borman mean anything to you?"

Rundstedt raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That was before my time," he said. "Borman was an accountant at the County Offices, but he's dead. I've only been working there for six months."

Shit, Wallander thought. I've come here for nothing.

"Was there anything else?" Rundstedt said. "Who did you replace?" Wallander asked. "Martin Oscarsson," Rundstedt said. "He retired." "And he was Lars Borman's boss?" "Yes."

"Where can I get hold of him?"

"He lives in Limhamn. On the Sound. In Möllevägen. I can't remember the number. I assume he'll be in the phone book."

"That's all, thank you very much," Wallander said. "I apologise for disturbing you. Do you know how Borman died, by the way?"

"They say it was suicide," Rundstedt said.

"Good luck with the budget," Wallander said. "Will you be putting the council tax up?"

"Who knows?" Rundstedt said, and went back to his meeting.

Wallander waved a salute to the receptionist and went back to his car. He phoned Directory Enquiries and wrote down Martin Oscarsson's address, Möllevägen 32.

He was there before noon.

The house was stone-built, around the turn of the century - it said 1912 over the big entrance. He went through the gate and rang the bell. The door was opened by an old man in a tracksuit. Wallander explained who he was, showed his ID and was invited in. In contrast to the dreary facade, the house inside was filled with light-coloured furniture, had pretty curtains in pastel shades, and large, uncluttered spaces. Music could be heard from another room. Wallander thought he recognised the voice of Ernst Rolf, the popular variety artist. Oscarsson showed him into the living room and asked if Wallander might like a cup of coffee. He declined.

"I've come to talk to you about Lars Borman," he said. "I was given your name by Thomas Rundstedt. About a year ago, shortly before you retired, Borman died. The official explanation was suicide."

"Why do you want to talk about Lars Borman?" Oscarsson said, and Wallander noted the unfriendly tone in his voice.

"His name has cropped up in a criminal investigation we're dealing with," Wallander said.

"What sort of criminal investigation?"

Wallander decided that he might as well not beat about the bush.

"You'll have seen in the newspapers that a solicitor in Ystad was murdered a few days ago," he said. "The questions I need to ask are about Borman's connection with that investigation."

Oscarsson stared at him for some time before replying. "Although I'm an old man, tired but perhaps not yet quite finished, I admit to being curious. I'll answer your questions, if I can."

"Borman was an accountant at the County Offices," Wallander said. "What exactly did he do? And how long had he been working there?"

"An accountant is an accountant," Oscarsson said. "The job title tells you what he did. He kept the books, in this case the County Council books. He checked that all the regulations were being observed, that budgets laid down by the appropriate authority were not exceeded. He also checked to make sure people were paid what they should be paid. You have to remember that a county office is like a large business, or rather an industrial empire associated with a small duchy. Its main responsibility is health spending, but it oversees a lot of other things as well. Education, culture, and so on. Borman wasn't our only accountant, of course. He came to the County Offices from the municipal corporation at the beginning of the '8os."

"Was he a good accountant?"

"He was the best accountant I ever came across."

"Why so?"

"He worked quickly but with no loss of accuracy. He was very involved in his work and was always coming up with suggestions as to how we could save money for the council."

"I've heard it said that he was a particularly honest man " Wallander said.

"Of course he was," Oscarsson said. "But that's not exactly earth-shattering - accountants are mostly honest. There are exceptions, of course, but they could never survive in an environment such as you get at county offices."

Wallander thought for a moment before continuing.

"And out of the blue he committed suicide," he said. "Was that unexpected?"

"It certainly was unexpected," Oscarsson said.

Looking back, Wallander was never quite sure what had happened when those words were spoken. There was a slight change of tone in Oscarsson's voice, a faint trace of doubt, perhaps reluctance, that made itself felt in the way he replied. As far as Wallander was concerned, the conversation changed character at that moment, and straightforward question and answer was replaced by alertness.

"You worked closely with Borman," Wallander said. "You must have known him well. What was he like as a man?"

"We were never friends. He lived for his work and for his family. He had an integrity that nobody ever questioned. And if anybody came too close, he would withdraw into his shell."

"Could he have been seriously ill?"

"That I don't know."

"You must have thought a good deal about his death."

"It was a very unpleasant time. It cast a shadow over my final months at work before I retired."

"Can you tell me about his last day at work?"

"He died on a Sunday, so the last time I saw him was on the Friday afternoon. There was a meeting of the financial heads of the County Council. It was quite a lively meeting, unfortunately."

"In what way?"

"There were arguments about how a particular problem ought to be resolved."

"Which problem was that?"

Oscarsson looked hard at Wallander. "I'm not sure I ought to answer that question," he said. "Why not?"

"In the first place I'm retired now. And also there are laws regarding those aspects of public administration that are confidential."

"We have a right-of-access principle in Sweden," Wallander said.