Henning Mankell - The Pyramid

When Hilton had got out of prison he had immediately celebrated the event by getting divorced and marrying a young Bolivian beauty. Thereafter he had moved to a large estate just north of Trelleborg. What they also knew was that he had started to extend his hunting grounds as far as Ystad and Simrishamn and was on his way to establishing himself in Kristianstad. On the twenty-eighth of December, the police felt they had enough evidence against him to get the public prosecutor to issue a search warrant for his estate. That was when they found the gun. Hilton had immediately confessed that he had no licence for the weapon. He explained that he had bought it in order to defend himself since his home was so remotely located. But he had firmly denied any involvement in the murders of the Eberhardsson sisters and Yngve Leonard Holm.

Wallander sat in on the drawn-out questioning of Hilton. Towards the end he posed some of his own questions, among them what exactly Hilton had been doing on the two dates in question. In the case of the Eberhardssons, the timetable was very precise. It was less certain when Holm had been shot. Hilton claimed to have been in Copenhagen when the Eberhardssons were killed. Since he had travelled alone, it would take time to confirm this claim. During the time that had elapsed between Holm going missing and when he had been found murdered, Hilton had done many different things.

Wallander wished Rydberg was there. Wallander could usually tell fairly quickly if the person before him was telling the truth or not. But it was hard with Hilton. If Rydberg had been there they could have compared their impressions. After the session, Wallander had coffee with Hyttner.

'We've never been able to link him to any violent incidents before,' Hyttner said. 'He has always used other boys when needed. And they haven't always been the same ones. From what we can tell, he's brought in people from the Continent when he's had to break someone's leg who hasn't performed up to snuff.'

'All of them will have to be tracked down,' Wallander said, 'if it turns out that the weapon matches.'

'I have a hard time believing that it's him,' Hyttner said. 'He's not the type. He has no qualms about selling heroin to schoolkids. But he's also the kind who faints when he has to give a blood sample.'

Wallander returned to Ystad at the start of the afternoon. Nyberg remained in Malmö. Wallander noticed that he was hoping more than he believed that they were nearer to solving the case.

At the same time another thought had started to gnaw at him. Something he had overlooked. A conclusion he should have drawn, or an assumption he should have made. He searched his mind without finding an answer.

On his way back to Ystad he turned off by Stjärnsund and stopped for a while at Sten Widén's horse ranch. He found Widén out in the stables with an older woman who apparently owned one of the horses being trained. She was on her way out when Wallander arrived. Together, he and Widén watched the BMW drive away.

'She's nice,' Sten Widén said. 'But the horses that she is swindled into buying don't make anybody happy. I always tell her to ask me for advice before she buys. But she thinks she knows best. Now she has one called Jupiter who is guaranteed never to win a race.'

Widén threw his arms out.

'But she keeps me alive,' he said.

'La Trottiata,' Wallander said. 'I'd like to see her.'

They walked back through the stables where the horses were stomping in various boxes. Sten Widén stopped next to one of the horses and stroked its muzzle.

'La Trottiata,' he said. 'Not particularly wanton, I have to say. She's mostly just afraid of the stallions.'

'Is she any good?'

'Could be. But she has frail hind legs. We'll have to see.'

They walked outside again. Wallander had picked up a faint trace of alcohol on Widén's breath when they were in the stables. Widén wanted to invite him in for a cup of coffee but Wallander said no.

'I have a triple homicide to solve,' he said. 'I assume you've read about it in the papers.'

'I only read the sport pages,' Sten Widén answered.

Wallander left Stjärnsund. He wondered if he and Sten would ever find their way back to the ease of understanding that had once existed between them.

When Wallander came back to the station he bumped into Björk in the reception area.

'I hear you've solved those murders,' he said.

'No,' Wallander said firmly. 'Nothing has been solved.'

'Then we'll have to continue to hope,' Björk said.

Björk left through the front doors. It is as if our confrontation had never taken place, Wallander thought. Or else he's more afraid of conflict than I am. Or nurses a grudge longer.

Wallander gathered the squad together and reviewed the developments in Malmö.

'Do you think it's him?' Rydberg asked when Wallander was finished.

'I don't know,' Wallander answered.

'That means, in other words, that you don't think it's him?'

Wallander did not answer. He only shrugged somewhat despondently.

As they ended the meeting, Martinsson asked if Wallander would consider switching New Year's Eve duty with him. Martinsson was on duty and would rather get out of it if he could. Wallander thought it over. Perhaps it would be best to work and keep his hands busy instead of thinking of Mona the whole time, but he had promised his father he would spend the evening in Löderup. That carried the most weight.

'I've promised to be with my father,' he said. 'You'll have to try someone else.'

Wallander stayed behind in the conference room after Martinsson had left. He searched for the thought that had started nagging at him on the way back from Malmö. He went over to the window and stared absent-mindedly out across the car park to the water tower. Slowly he reviewed all of the events in his mind. Tried to catch something he had missed. But it was in vain.

The rest of the day, nothing significant occurred. Everyone was waiting. Nyberg returned from Malmö. The forensic ballistics specialists were working at full speed on the weapon. Martinsson managed to switch his New Year's Eve with Näslund, who was on bad terms with his wife and wanted to avoid being home. Wallander walked to and fro in the corridor. He kept searching for the thought that was just out of reach. It continued to gnaw on his subconscious. He knew enough to realise it was only a detail that had flashed by. Perhaps a single word that he should have caught and examined more closely.

It was six o'clock. Rydberg left without saying anything. Together, Wallander and Martinsson reviewed everything they knew about Yngve Leonard Holm. He was born in Brösarp and, as far as they could tell, had never held down a real job in his life. Small-time stealing in his youth had led to increasingly serious crimes. But no violence. In this he reminded them of Nilsmark. Martinsson excused himself and left. Hansson was absorbed in his racing tables, which he quickly stuffed into a drawer if anyone came into his office. In the break room Wallander talked with a couple of officers who were going to run a drunk-driving campaign over New Year. They were going to focus on the smaller roads, the 'alcohol routes' that were used by drivers with good local knowledge who were over the legal limit and still planned to drive themselves home. At seven o'clock Wallander called Malmö and spoke to Hyttner. Nothing had happened there either. But the heroin was now flowing as far north as Varberg. There, the drug trade controlled from Gothenburg took over.

Wallander went home. The washing machine had still not been repaired. And the dirty laundry was still in his car. He angrily returned to the station and stuffed the washer full. Then he sat doodling in his notebook. Thought about Radwan and the mighty pyramids. By the time his laundry was dry it was past nine o'clock. He went home, opened a can of hash and ate in front of the TV while he watched an old Swedish film. He vaguely remembered it from his youth. He had seen it with a girl who had not allowed him to place a hand on her thigh.