'We have to get the people who did this,' Wallander said.
'That would be a good thing,' Nyberg said. 'One gets the feeling that this is the work of a madman.'
'Or the opposite,' Wallander said. 'Someone who really knew what he was after.'
'In a sewing shop? Run by two old unmarried sisters?'
Nyberg shook his head disbelievingly and returned to the ruins. Wallander walked down to the harbour. He needed some air. It was a couple of degrees below freezing and there was almost no breeze. He stopped outside the theatre building and saw that there was going to be a performance by the National Theatre. A Dream Play by Strindberg. If only it had been an opera, he thought. Then I would have gone. But he hesitated to attend a regular play.
He walked out onto the pier in the yacht harbour. A ferry to Poland was just leaving the large terminal that lay adjacent to it. Absentmindedly he wondered how many cars were being smuggled out of Sweden this time.
He returned to the station at half past three. He wondered if his father had reached the hotel and settled in. And if he would receive a new reprimand from Björk for an unexplained absence. At four o'clock he gathered with his colleagues in the conference room. They reviewed the findings of the day. Their collected material was still thin.
'Unusually thin,' Rydberg said. 'A building burns down in Ystad. And no one has noticed anything out of the ordinary.'
Svedberg and Hansson reported what they had found. Neither of the sisters had been married. There were a number of distant relatives, cousins and second cousins. But no one who lived in Ystad. The sewing shop yielded an unremarkable declared income. Nor had they uncovered any bank accounts with large savings. Hansson had located a safedeposit box at Handels Bank. But since they lacked keys, Per Åkeson would have to submit a request that the box be opened. Hansson calculated that it could be done by the following day.
Afterwards a heavy silence descended on the room.
'There has to be a motive,' Wallander said. 'Sooner or later we'll find it. If we only have patience.'
'Who knew these sisters?' Rydberg asked. 'They must have had friends and a bit of spare time now and again when they weren't working in the shop. Did they belong to any kind of organisation? Did they have a summer cabin? Did they take holidays? I still feel that we haven't scratched below the surface.'
Wallander thought Rydberg sounded irritable. He's probably in a lot of pain, Wallander thought. I wonder what is really wrong with him. If it isn't only rheumatism.
No one had anything to add to what Rydberg had said. They would go forward and delve deeper.
Wallander remained in his office until close to eight o'clock. He made his own list of all the facts they had about the Eberhardsson sisters. As he read through what he had written he realised in earnest how thin it was. They had absolutely no leads to pursue.
Before leaving the office he called Martinsson at home. Martinsson told him that Holm had still not turned up.
Wallander went to his car. It took a long time for the engine to sputter into life. He angrily decided to take out a loan and get a new car as soon as he had the time.
When he came home he booked a time for the laundry room and then opened a can of luncheon meat. Just as he was about to sit down in front of the TV with his plate perched on his lap the phone rang. It was Emma. She asked if she could come by.
'Not tonight,' Wallander said. 'You've probably read about the fire and the two sisters. We're working round the clock right now.'
She understood. After Wallander hung up he wondered why he couldn't tell her the truth. That he didn't want to be with her any more. But of course it was inexcusable cowardice to say this over the phone. Therefore he had to steel himself to go over to her place some evening. He promised himself he would as soon as he had time.
He started to eat his food, which had already grown cold. It was nine o'clock.
The telephone rang again. Annoyed, Wallander put the plate down and answered.
It was Nyberg, who was still at the scene of the fire, calling from a patrol car.
'Now I think we've found something,' he said. 'A safe, the expensive kind that can withstand extreme heat.'
'Why didn't you find it earlier?'
'Good question,' Nyberg answered, without taking offence. 'The safe had been lowered into the foundation. We found a heat-insulated trapdoor under all the rubble. When we managed to force it open we found a space underneath. And there was the safe.'
'Have you opened it?'
'With what? There are no keys. This is a safe that will be difficult to force open.'
Wallander checked his watch. Ten minutes past nine.
'I'm on my way,' he said. 'I wonder if you might have uncovered the lead we were looking for.'
When Wallander got down to the street he couldn't get the car to start. He gave up and walked to Hamngatan.
At twenty minutes to ten he stood at Nyberg's side and studied the safe, illuminated by a lone spotlight.
At about the same time the temperature began to fall, and a gusty wind was moving in from the east.
CHAPTER 6
Shortly after midnight on the fifteenth of December, Nyberg and his men had managed to lift up the safe with the help of a crane. It was loaded onto the back of a truck and immediately taken to the station.
But before Nyberg and Wallander left the scene, Nyberg examined the space under the foundation.
'This was put in after the house was built,' he said. 'I have to assume it was constructed expressly to hold this safe.'
Wallander nodded without a reply. He was thinking about the Eberhardsson sisters. The police had searched for a motive. Now they may have found it, even if they didn't yet know what was in the safe.
But someone else may have known, Wallander thought. Both that the safe existed. And what was inside.
Nyberg and Wallander left the scene of the fire and walked out to the street.
'Is it possible to cut into the safe?' Wallander asked.
'Yes, of course,' Nyberg answered. 'But it requires special welding equipment. This is not the kind of safe that a regular locksmith would dream of trying to crack open.'
'We have to open it as soon as possible.'
Nyberg pulled off his protective suit. He looked sceptically at Wallander.
'Do you mean that the safe should be opened tonight?'
'That would be best,' Wallander said. 'This is a double homicide.'
'Impossible,' Nyberg said. 'I can only get hold of people with the requisite welding equipment tomorrow at the earliest.'
'Are they here in Ystad?'
Nyberg reflected.
'There is a company that's a subcontractor for the armed forces,' he said. 'They probably have the equipment that would do the trick. I think their name is Fabricius. They're on Industrigatan.'
Nyberg looked exhausted. It would be insane to drive him onward right now, Wallander thought. He himself shouldn't press on either.
'Seven o'clock tomorrow,' Wallander said.
Nyberg nodded.
Wallander looked around for his car. Then he remembered that it hadn't started. Nyberg could drop him off, but he preferred to walk. The wind was cold. He passed a thermometer outside a shop window on Stora Östergatan. Minus six degrees Celsius. Winter is creeping in, Wallander thought. Soon it will be here.
One minute to seven on the morning of the fifteenth of December, Nyberg entered Wallander's office. Wallander had the telephone directory open on his desk. He had already inspected the safe, which was being stored in a temporarily empty room next to reception. One of the officers just going off the night shift told him that they had needed a forklift to get the safe inside. Wallander nodded. He had noticed the marks outside the glass doors and seen that one of the hinges was bent. That won't make Björk happy, he thought. But he'll have to live with it. Wallander had tried to move the safe, without success. He had wondered again what it contained. Or if it was empty.