He knew too that Hanson was probably the colleague who would have had fewest regrets if Wallander had never come back to work. Hanson was ambitious, which was not of itself a bad thing for a police officer, but he had never been able to accept that Wallander had taken over Rydberg's invisible mantle. Hanson thought he was the one who should have assumed it. But it was not to be, and as a result Hanson had never managed to overcome his antagonism.
From Wallander's side there were other factors, such as his irritation at Hanson spending so much of his time playing the horses. His desk was always piled high with racing cards and betting systems. Wallander was persuaded that Hanson sometimes spent half his working day trying to work out how hundreds of horses at courses up and down the country were going to perform at their next outings. And Wallander knew that Hanson couldn't bear opera.
But now they were facing each other across the desk, and Hanson was back on duty. He would strengthen the team, extend their scope. That was all that mattered.
"So you came back," Hanson said. "The last I heard you were about to resign."
"Sten's murder made me reconsider," Wallander said.
"And then you found out that his father had been murdered as well," Hanson said. "We had that down as an accident."
"It was cleverly disguised," Wallander said. "My finding that chair leg in the mud was pure luck."
"Chair leg?" Hanson sounded surprised.
"You'll have to set aside time to get up to speed on the detail of the case," Wallander said. "You're going to be crucial, make no mistake about it. Not least after that call I'd just received when you came in."
"What was it about?" Hanson said.
"It looks as if the man we're putting all our resources into pinning down intends to move out. That would cause us enormous problems."
"I'd better get reading."
"I'd have liked to give you a thorough rundown myself," Wallander said, "but I don't have the time. Talk to Ann-Britt. She's good at summarising what matters and leaving out what doesn't."
"Is she really?" Hanson asked.
Wallander stared at him. "Is she what?"
"Good. Is Hoglund good?"
Wallander remembered something Martinsson had said when he had first come back to work, to the effect that Hanson thought his position was under threat thanks to Hoglund's arrival on the scene.
"Yes," Wallander said. "She's a good police officer already, and she's going to get even better."
"I find that hard to believe," Hanson said, getting to his feet.
"You'll see," Wallander said. "Let me put it this way: Ann-Britt Hoglund's here to stay."
"I think I'd prefer to talk to Martinsson," Hanson said.
"You do as you wish," Wallander said.
Hanson was already halfway out of the door when Wallander asked him another question.
"What did you do in Halmstad?"
"Thanks to the National Police Board, I had an opportunity to look into the future," Hanson said. "When police officers all over the world will be sitting at their computers, tracking down criminals. We'll be part of a communications network covering the whole world and all the information collected by forces in different countries will be available to everybody by means of cleverly constructed databases."
"Sounds frightening," Wallander said. "And boring."
"But probably also very efficient," Hanson said. "Mind you, I imagine we'll both be retired by then."
"Hoglund will see it," Wallander said. "Is there a trotting course in Halmstad, by the way?"
"One night a week," Hanson said.
"How did you do?"
Hanson shrugged. "Swings and roundabouts," he said. "Usual thing. Some horses run as they should. Others don't."
Hanson left, closing the door behind him. Wallander thought of the fury that had welled up inside him when he heard that Harderberg was making preparations to move out. He rarely lost his temper completely, and he could not remember the last time he had so lost control that he had started throwing things around.
Now that he was alone again in his office, he tried to think calmly. The apparent fact that Harderberg intended leaving Farnholm Castle did not necessarily mean anything more than that he had decided to do what he had done many times before: move on to pastures new. There was no good reason to think that he was running away. What was there for him to run away from? And where would he run to? At worst it would make the investigation more complicated. Other police districts would have to be involved, depending on where he decided to settle.
It was a possibility that Wallander needed to look into without delay. He phoned Widen. One of the girls answered. She sounded very young.
"Sten's in the stables," she said. "The blacksmith's here."
"He has a telephone out there," Wallander said. "Put me through."
"The stables phone is out of order," the girl said.
"Then you'll have to go and fetch him. Tell him Roger Lundin wants to speak to him."
It was almost five minutes before he came to the phone.
"What is it now?" he asked. He was obviously annoyed at having been disturbed.
"Sofia didn't happen to say where Harderberg was going to move to, did she?"
"How the hell would she know?"
"I'm only asking. She didn't say anything about him intending to leave the country?"
"She only said what I told you. Nothing more."
"I have to see her. As soon as possible."
"Come off it, she has a job to do."
"You'll have to find some excuse. She used to work for you. You have some forms she needs to fill in. You must be able to fix that."
"I haven't time. The blacksmith's here. The vet's on his way. I have meetings arranged with several owners."
"This is important. Believe me."
"I'll do what I can. I'll call you back."
Wallander put down the receiver. It was 3.30 p.m. already. He waited. After a quarter of an hour he went to fetch a cup of coffee. Five minutes later Svedberg knocked on the door and came in.
"We can forget about the man in Ostersund," he said. "His car with the registration number FHC 803 was stolen when he was in Stockholm a week ago. There are no grounds for not believing him. Besides, he's a local councillor."
"Why would a councillor be more trustworthy than anybody else?" Wallander objected. "Where was the car stolen? And when? Make sure we get a copy of his theft report."
"Is that really important?" Svedberg said.
"It might be," Wallander said. "And in any case, it won't take long. Have you spoken to Hanson?"
"Only briefly," Svedberg said. "He's in with Martinsson at the moment, going through the investigation material."
"Give him the job, it's about right as something for him to start with."
Svedberg left. It was 4.00 and Widen still had not phoned. Wallander went to the cloakroom after asking reception to make a note of any incoming calls. He found an evening paper in the toilet and leafed through it, his mind elsewhere. He was back at his desk and had snapped twelve paper clips by the time Widen eventually called.
"I've invented a pack of lies," he said, "but you can meet her in Simrishamn an hour from now. I told her to take a taxi and that you'd pay. There's a cafe on the hill leading down to the harbour. Do you know the one I mean?"
Wallander did.
"She hasn't got much time," Widen said. "Take some forms with you so that she can pretend to fill them in."