Henning Mankell - The White Lioness

Somebody or something must have forced her to fail to turn up at home at five o’clock, as she had promised on the telephone.

“It sounds nasty, no doubt about that,” said Bjork when Wallander had finished.

“Real estate agent, free church member, family,” said Martinson. “Maybe it all got too much for her? She buys the pastries, drives off home. Then all of a sudden she turns around and heads for Copenhagen instead.”

“We have to find the car,” said Svedberg. “Without that, we won’t get anywhere.”

“First of all we have to find the house she was going to see,” Wallander pointed out. “Hasn’t Robert Akerblom called yet?”

No one had heard from him.

“If she really did go to see that house somewhere near Krageholm, we ought to be able to follow her tracks until we find her, or until the tracks come to an end.”

“Peters and Noren have been combing the side roads around Krageholm,” said Bjork. “No Toyota Corolla. They did find a stolen truck, though.”

Wallander took the cassette from the answering machine out of his pocket. With some considerable difficulty they eventually managed to find a machine to play it. They all stood around the desk, listening to Louise Akerblom’s voice.

“We have to analyze the tape,” said Wallander. “I can’t imagine what the technical guys could possibly find. But still.”

“One thing is clear,” said Martinson. “When she left her message she wasn’t threatened or pressured, scared or worried, desperate or unhappy.”

“Which means something must have happened,” said Wallander. “Between three and five. Somewhere in the area of Skurup, Krageholm, Ystad. Just over three days ago.”

“How was she dressed?” asked Bjork.

Wallander suddenly realized he’d forgotten to ask her husband this most basic question. He admitted as much.

“I still think there could be a natural explanation,” said Martinson thoughtfully. “It’s like you say yourself, Kurt. She’s not the type to disappear of her own free will. But in spite of everything, assault and murder are still pretty rare. I think we should go about it in the usual way. Let’s not get hysterical.”

“I’m not hysterical,” said Wallander, realizing he was getting mad. “I know what I think, though, and I think certain conclusions speak for themselves.”

Bjork was just about to intervene when the telephone rang.

“I said we shouldn’t be disturbed,” said Bjork.

Wallander quickly put his hand over the receiver.

“It could be Robert Akerblom,” he said. “Maybe it’s best if I talk to him?”

He picked up the phone and gave his name.

“Robert Akerblom here. Have you found Louise?”

“No,” said Wallander. “Not yet.”

“The widow just called,” said Robert Akerblom. “I have a map. I’m going there myself to take a look.”

Wallander thought for a moment.

“I’ll take you there,” he said. “That’ll probably be best. I’ll come right away. Can you make a few copies of the map? Five will do.”

“OK,” said Robert Akerblom.

Wallander thought how truly religious people were usually law-abiding and compliant with authority. Yet nobody could have stopped Robert Akerblom from going out on his own to look for his wife.

Wallander slammed down the receiver.

“We have a map now,” he said. “We’ll take two cars to start with. Robert Akerblom wants to come along. He can ride with me.”

“Shouldn’t we take a few patrol cars?” wondered Martinson.

“We’d have to drive as a column if we did that,” said Wallander. “Let’s take a look at the map first, and draw up a plan. Then we can send out everything we’ve got.”

“Call me if anything happens,” said Bjork. “Here or at home.”

Wallander almost ran down the corridor. He was in a hurry. He had to know if the track just petered out. Or if Louise Akerblom was out there somewhere.

They took the map Robert Akerblom had sketched in accordance with what he’d heard and spread it out over the hood of Wallander’s car. Svedberg had dried it first with his handkerchief, as it had rained earlier that afternoon.

“E14,” said Svedberg, “As far as the exit for Katslosa and Lake Kade. Take a left to Knickarp, then a right, then left again, and look for a dirt road.”

“Wait a minute,” said Wallander. “If you’d been in Skurup, which road would you have taken then?”

There were lots of possibilities. After some discussion Wallander turned to Robert Akerblom.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I think Louise would have taken a minor road,” he said without hesitation. “She didn’t like all the traffic on the E14. I think she’d have gone via Svaneholm and Brodda.”

“Even if she was in a hurry? If she had to be home by five o’clock?”

“Even then,” said Robert Akerblom.

“You take that road,” said Wallander to Martinson and Svedberg. “We’ll go straight to the house. We can use the car phone if we need to.”

They drove out of Ystad. Wallander let Martinson and Svedberg pass, since they had the longest distance to travel. Robert Akerblom sat staring straight ahead. Wallander kept glancing at him. He was rubbing his hands anxiously, as if he couldn’t make up his mind whether or not to clasp them together.

Wallander could feel Akerbom’s tension. What would they find?

He braked as they approached the exit for Lake Kade, let a truck pass, and recalled how he had driven along the same road one morning two years before, when an old farmer and his wife had been beaten to death in a remote farmhouse. He shuddered at the memory, and thought as he so often did of his colleague Rydberg, who died last year. Every time Wallander was faced with an investigation out of the ordinary, he missed the experience and advice of his elder colleague.

What’s going on in this country of ours, he thought to himself. Where have all the old-fashioned thieves and con men gone? Where does all this senseless violence come from?

The map was lying by the gearshift.

“Are we going the right way?” he asked, in order to break the silence in the car.

“Yes,” said Robert Akerblom, without taking his eyes off the road. “We should take a left just over the top of this next hill.”

They drove into Krageholm Forest. The lake was on the left, shimmering through the trees. Wallander slowed down, and they started looking out for the turnoff.

It was Robert Akerblom who saw it first. Wallander had already driven past. He reversed and came to a halt.

“You stay in the car,” he said. “I’ll go look around.”

The actual turnoff into the dirt road was almost completely overgrown. Wallander got down on one knee and could make out faint traces of car tires. He could feel Robert Akerblom’s eyes on the back of his neck.

He went back to the car and called Martinson and Svedberg. They’d just got as far as Skurup.

“We’re at the start of the dirt road,” said Wallander. “Be careful when you turn in. Don’t spoil the tire marks.”

“Roger,” said Svedberg. “We’re on our way now.”

Wallander turned carefully into the track, avoiding the tire marks.

Two cars, he thought. Or the same one going in and coming back.

They shuddered along the muddy and badly maintained road. It was supposed to be a kilometer to the house that was up for sale. To his surprise, Wallander saw on the map that the house was called Solitude.

After three kilometers the track petered out. Robert Akerblom stared uncomprehendingly at the map and at Wallander.

“Wrong road,” said Wallander. “We couldn’t have avoided seeing the house. It’s right by the roadside. Let’s go back.”

When they emerged onto the main road, they drove slowly forward and came to the next turnoff some five hundred meters further on. Wallander repeated his investigation. Unlike the previous road, this one had lots of tire tracks, one over the other. The road also gave the impression of being better maintained and more often used.