He drove through the grey autumn countryside in his old car, wondering absentmindedly how the winter would be. When had they had snow for Christmas in the past few years? It was so long ago he couldn’t remember.
He reached Malmo station, and found a carpark next to the main entrance. He thought of getting a cup of coffee before Birch arrived, but time was tight.
He found Birch on the other side of the canal, on his way across the bridge. He must have parked up by the square. They shook hands. Birch was wearing a knitted cap that was much too small. He was unshaven and looked as though he hadn’t had enough sleep.
“Have you started digging?” he asked.
“At 7 a.m.,” Wallander replied.
Birch nodded gloomily. He pointed at the station.
“We’re supposed to meet a man named Karl-Henrik Bergstrand,” he said. “Normally he doesn’t get in this early. He promised to be here today to meet us.”
They went into the administrative offices of Swedish Railways. Bergstrand was already there. He was in his early 30s. Wallander assumed that he represented the new, youthful image of the company. They introduced themselves.
“Your request is unusual,” Bergstrand said and laughed. “But we’ll see if we can help you.”
He invited them into his spacious office. Wallander found his self-confidence extraordinary. When Wallander had been 30, he was still insecure about almost everything.
Bergstrand sat down behind his big desk. Wallander looked at the furniture in the room. Maybe that explained why their tickets were so expensive.
“We’re looking for a dining car attendant,” Birch began. “A woman.”
“An overwhelming majority of the people working in train service are women,” Bergstrand replied. “It would have been significantly easier to find a man.”
“We don’t know her name,” Birch said. “All we know is what she looks like.”
Bergstrand gave him a surprised look.
“Do you really have to try to find someone you know so little about?”
“We do,” Wallander interjected.
“We know which train she worked on,” said Birch.
He gave Bergstrand the information they had from Annika Carlman. Bergstrand shook his head.
“This was three years ago,” he said.
“We know that,” said Wallander. “But I assume that you have personnel records?”
“That’s really not something I can answer,” Bergstrand said. “Swedish Railways is divided into many enterprises. The restaurants are a subsidiary. They have their own personnel administration. They’re the ones who can answer your questions.”
Wallander was starting to get both impatient and annoyed. “Let’s get one thing clear,” he interrupted. “We’re not looking for this waitress just for the fun of it. We want to find her because she may have important information relating to a complicated murder investigation. So we don’t care who answers our questions. But we’re anxious to get it done as fast as possible. I assume you can get hold of someone who can help us,” he said. “We’ll sit here and wait.”
“Is it about the murders in the Ystad area?” Bergstrand asked with interest.
“Exactly. And this waitress might know something that’s important.”
“Is she a suspect?”
“No,” Wallander replied. “She’s not a suspect. No shadow will be cast on either the train or the sandwiches.”
Bergstrand got up and left the room.
“He seemed a little arrogant,” Birch said. “It was good what you said to him.”
“It’d be even better if he could give us an answer,” Wallander said.
While they waited, Wallander called Hansson in Lodinge. They were digging towards the middle of the first quadrant. They hadn’t found anything.
“Unfortunately it’s already leaked out,” Hansson said. “We’ve had a number of people hanging around up at the farm.”
“Keep them at a distance,” Wallander told him. “I guess that’s all we can do.”
“Nyberg wants to talk to you. It’s about that tape recording of Katarina Taxell and her mother.”
“Were they able to identify the noise in the background?”
“I think not, but it’s better if you talk to him yourself.”
“They couldn’t say anything at all?”
“They thought someone near the phone was pounding on the floor or the wall. But what good does that do us?”
Wallander had started to hope too soon.
“It couldn’t very well be Taxell’s newborn baby,” Hansson said.
“Apparently we have access to an expert who might be able to work out whether the phone call came from far away or close by. But it’s a complicated process. Nyberg said it would take at least a couple of days.”
“We’ll have to settle for that,” Wallander said.
Bergstrand came back into the office and Wallander quickly ended his conversation.
“It’ll take a while,” Bergstrand said. “We have to get hold of a personnel list that’s three years old and the company has undergone a lot of changes since then. But I’ve explained that it’s important. They’re getting right onto it.”
“We’ll wait,” Wallander said.
Bergstrand didn’t seem overly enthusiastic about having two police officers sitting in his office, but he didn’t say anything.
“Coffee’s one of your specialities, isn’t it?” Birch asked. “Can we get some?”
Bergstrand left the room.
“I don’t think he’s used to getting the coffee himself,” Birch said gleefully.
Wallander didn’t reply.
Bergstrand returned with a tray. Then he excused himself, saying that he had an urgent meeting. They stayed where they were. Wallander drank the coffee and felt his impatience growing. He thought about Hansson and wondered whether he should leave Birch to wait for the waitress to be identified. He decided to stay half an hour. No more.
“I’ve been trying to get abreast of everything that’s happened,” Birch said after a while. “I admit I’ve never been involved in anything like this before. Could the killer really be a woman?”
“We can’t ignore what we know,” Wallander replied.
At the same time the feeling that kept plaguing him returned. The fear that he was steering the whole investigation into terrain that consisted of nothing but pitfalls. At any moment the trap door could open under their feet.
“We haven’t had many female serial killers in this country,” he said.
“If any,” Wallander said. “Besides, we don’t know if she’s committed the murders. Our clues will either lead us to her alone or to someone who is working behind her.”
“And you think she regularly serves coffee on trains between Stockholm and Malmo?”
Birch’s doubt was unmistakable.
“No,” Wallander replied. “I don’t think she serves coffee. The waitress is probably just the fourth step along the way.”
Birch stopped asking questions. Wallander looked at the clock and wondered if he should call Hansson again. The half hour was almost up. Bergstrand was still busy with his meeting. Birch was reading a brochure.
Another 30 minutes passed. Wallander’s patience was running out.
Bergstrand came back.
“It looks like we’re going to solve it,” he said brightly. “But it’ll take a little while longer.”
“How long?”
Wallander didn’t hide his irritation. It probably wasn’t justified, but he couldn’t help it.
“Maybe half an hour. They’re driving the files over here. That takes time.”
They continued to wait. Birch put down his brochure and dozed off. Wallander went over to the window and looked out at Malmo. To the right he caught a glimpse of the hydrofoil terminal. He thought about the times he had stood there waiting for Baiba. How many? Twice. It felt more than that. He called Hansson. Nothing. The digging was going to take time. Hansson also said it had started to rain. Wallander gloomily realised the extent of this depressing work.
The whole thing is going to hell, he thought suddenly. I’ve steered the whole investigation right into perdition. Birch started snoring. Wallander kept on checking his watch. Bergstrand came back. Birch woke up with a start. Bergstrand had a piece of paper in his hand.