"He opened all the post," she said. "I helped him with the photo sessions, that was all."
"Who else could have seen this letter?" Wallander asked. "Who else has access to this studio? A cleaner?"
"We do our own cleaning. And clients didn't go into the office."
"So it was just you and Rolf?"
"Yes, although I was hardly ever here."
"Have there been any burglaries?"
"No."
"I looked for the envelope that this letter came in," Birch said. "I couldn't find it anywhere."
"It must have been thrown away," she said. "Rolf likes to keep things tidy. The rubbish is collected every Monday."
Wallander looked at Birch. There was no reason for her to lie. He didn't think they could get any further.
"How close was your relationship?" he asked.
She understood what he was getting at, but didn't seem to mind. "It was nothing personal," she said. "We worked well together and I learned a lot from him. I'm hoping to set up my own studio one day."
It was over. Birch said he would drive her home while Wallander drove back to Ystad. They parted outside on the street.
"I still don't understand it," she said. "I spent the last two days in an isolated house in an equally isolated forest, and I come back to this."
She began to cry and Birch put an arm around her protectively.
"I'll take her home now," he said. "Will you give me a call later?"
"I'll call you from Ystad," Wallander said. "Where are you going to be?"
"I'm going to search his flat later tonight."
Wallander made sure that he had Birch's mobile number, then crossed the street to his car. It was 10.30 p.m.
Before he had a chance to start the car, the phone buzzed in his pocket and he answered.
"Is this Kurt Wallander?"
"Yes."
"Lone Kjaer here. I just wanted to tell you that the woman we're calling Louise is at the Amigo right now. What do you want us to do?"
Wallander made a quick decision. "I'm already in Malmö. I'll be right over. If she leaves, have someone follow her."
"There's a boat leaving at 11 p.m., I think. That brings you to Copenhagen at around 11.45 p.m. I'll meet you on this side."
"Just don't lose her," Wallander said. "I need this one."
"We'll watch over her well, I promise."
Wallander hung up and stared unseeing into the darkness, his excitement growing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Wallander picked her out as soon as he got off the boat. She was wearing a leather coat, she had short blond hair, and she was younger than he imagined, and smaller. But there was no doubt that she was in the force. Why, he couldn't have said, but he could always pick out the police officer in a group of strangers.
He stopped in front of her and they exchanged greetings.
"Louise is still at the bar," she said.
"If that really is her name," Wallander said.
"Why is she so important to your investigation?"
Wallander had been thinking about this on the way over. He couldn't connect her to the crimes in any way. All he wanted to do was talk to her. He had so many questions.
"I think she may have interesting information for us. Of course, a bar is hardly the best place for this kind of a conversation."
"You can always use my office."
A police car was waiting for them, and they drove away in silence. Wallander thought about the last time he had been in Copenhagen. It was when he'd attended a performance of Tosca at Det Kongelige theatre. He'd gone to a bar after the performance and was dead drunk by the time he caught the last boat for Malmö.
Lone Kjaer was speaking to someone on the car radio.
"She's still there," she said, pointing out the window. "It's across the street. Do you want me to wait for you?"
"Why don't you come in?"
The broken neon sign simply read "igo". Wallander was about to meet the woman he'd been wondering about since he'd found her photograph in Svedberg's secret compartment under the floorboards.
They opened the door, pushed aside the heavy red curtain, and entered the bar. It was warm and smoky inside, the lighting was tinged red, and it was full of people. A man walked towards them on his way out.
"All the way at the end of the bar," he said to Lone Kjaer.
Wallander nodded to him, then left Kjaer by the door and started making his way through the crowd.
He caught sight of her. She was sitting at the far end of the bar. Her hair looked just as it had in the photograph. Wallander stood frozen, watching her. She looked like she was alone, although there were people on either side of her. She was drinking a glass of wine. When she turned her head in his direction, he slipped behind a tall man who was drinking a beer. When Wallander looked again she was staring down at her glass of wine. Wallander turned, nodded to Kjaer, and made his way over to Louise.
He was in luck. Just as he reached her, the man on her left stood up and left. Wallander sank down on the bar stool, and she glanced at him quickly.
"I think your name is Louise," Wallander said. "My name is Kurt Wallander, and I'm a police officer from Ystad. I need to speak to you."
She tensed up for a moment, then relaxed and smiled.
"All right, but I'd like to visit the ladies' room first, if you don't mind. I was just about to get up when you sat down."
She got up and walked towards the back of the room, where there were signs to the men's and women's lavatories.
The bartender caught Wallander's eye, but he shook his head to indicate he wouldn't be ordering anything. She doesn't speak with a Scanian dialect, he thought. But she is Swedish.
Kjaer came closer. Wallander gave her a sign that everything was proceeding smoothly. The clock hanging on the wall advertised a brand of whisky that Wallander had never heard of. Four minutes went by. Wallander looked over at the area leading to the lavatories. A man walked by, then another. He tried to concentrate on his questions, wondering which he should ask first.
Seven minutes had gone by now, and he realised something was wrong. He got up and walked towards the lavatories. Kjaer appeared at his side.
"Go into the ladies' room and look around."
"Why? She hasn't come out again. I would have seen her if she had tried to leave."
"Something's wrong," Wallander said. "I want you to check for me."
Kjaer went into the women's lavatory and Wallander waited. She was back again almost immediately.
"She's not in there."
"Damn it," Wallander said. "Is there a window in there?"
Without waiting for an answer he jerked the door open and went in. Two women were adjusting their make-up in front of the mirror. Wallander hardly noticed them. Louise was gone. He ran out again.
"She must still be here somewhere," Kjaer said in disbelief. "I would have seen her."
"But she isn't," Wallander said.
He made his way to the front door through a throng of people that seemed to be getting thicker all the time. The bouncer looked like a wrestler.
"Ask him," Wallander said. "We're looking for a woman with medium-length dark hair. Did anyone like that leave recently? It would have been ten minutes ago at the most."
Kjaer asked the bouncer but he shook his head, and said something that Wallander didn't catch.
"He's sure," she yelled over the noise in the room.
Wallander turned and started pushing his way through the crowd again. He was looking for her, but part of him knew she was already gone.
Finally he gave up, and made his way over to the bartender. He couldn't see the glass of wine Louise had been drinking.
"Where's the glass that was here?" he asked.
"I've already washed it."
Wallander waved to Kjaer and she came over. He pointed to the top of the bar.
"I don't know how likely we are to get anything, but let's try for some fingerprints."
"It'll be
a first for me," she said. "I've never had to cordon off a section of a bar before. But I'll make sure it's done."
Wallander left and walked out into the street. He was drenched with sweat and shaking with anger. How could he have been so stupid? That smile, her willingness to speak with him, just a trip to the ladies' room first. Why hadn't he seen through it?
Kjaer came out after ten minutes. "I really don't know how she did it," she said. "I know I would have seen her if she had tried to leave."
But the pieces were starting to fit together. Slowly Wallander understood what must have happened. There was only one answer. It was so unexpected that he needed time to grasp its full implication.
"Can we go to your office?" he asked. "I need time to think."
When they got there, Kjaer brought him a cup of coffee and repeated her question.
"I just don't understand how she got away without being seen."
"That's because she never left," Wallander said. "Louise is still in there somewhere."
She looked at him with surprise. "Still there? Then why did we come here?"
Wallander shook his head dully. He was frustrated at his lack of awareness. He had sensed that there was something strange about her hair the first time he'd seen her picture in Svedberg's flat.
I should have seen it back then, he thought. That it was a wig.
She repeated her last question.
"In a way, Louise is still in the bar," he answered, "because Louise is just an act, put on by someone else. A man. That wrestler who was guarding the door said three men left the bar during the last ten minutes. One of them was Louise, with her wig in her pocket and all her make-up wiped off."
She didn't believe him, and he was too tired to go into more detail. The important thing was that he knew it. Still, he owed her an explanation. She had helped him. Although it was past midnight, he continued to explain.
"When she went into the lavatory, she took off her makeup and the wig, and then she walked out again," Wallander said. "She probably altered something about the way her clothing looked as well. Neither of us noticed anything, because we were waiting for a woman to come out. Who would have noticed a man?"
"The Amigo doesn't have a reputation as a transvestite bar."
"He may simply have gone there to play the role of a woman," Wallander said thoughtfully. "Not to be among his own kind."
"What does this mean for your investigation?"
"I don't know. It probably means a great deal, but I haven't thought it through yet."
She looked down at her watch.
"The last boat to Malmö has already left. The earliest leaves at 4.45 a.m. in the morning."
"I'll stay in a hotel," Wallander said.
She shook her head. "You can sleep on the sofa at my place," she said. "My husband comes home around this time. He's a waiter. We have sandwiches and a beer together before we go to bed."
They left the police station.
Wallander slept uneasily. At one point he got up and walked over to the window. He stared down at the empty street and wondered why all city streets resembled each other at night. He kept waiting for someone to appear, but all was quiet. He felt his anxiety grow stronger. The victims so far had been dressed up in costume. Just like Louise. When Wallander had told her who he was, she left.
It was him, he thought. There's no other explanation. I had the killer by my side without knowing it. But I didn't manage to see through his disguise, and he disappeared. Now he knows we're closing in, but he also knows we haven't guessed his real identity.
Wallander went back to the sofa and dozed until it was time to take the ferry back to Malmö.
He called Birch when he got to the other side, hoping he was an early riser. Birch answered and said he was just drinking his morning coffee.
"What happened to you last night? I thought we were going to be in touch."
Wallander explained what had happened.
"Were you really that close?"
"I let myself be fooled. I should have stood guard by the lavatories."
"It's easy to say so in hindsight," Birch said. "You're back in Malmö now, aren't you? You must be tired."
"The worst thing is that I can't get the car started. I left my lights on."
"I'll come over. I have jump leads," Birch said. "Where are you?"
Wallander gave him directions.
It took Birch less than 20 minutes to get there, during which time Wallander napped in his car.
Birch looked closely at Wallander. "You should really try to sleep for a few hours," he said. "It won't help matters if you collapse."
While they put the jump leads on, Birch told him he had searched Haag's flat but hadn't found anything significant.
"We'll do another search of the studio and his flat," Birch said. "And we'll stay in touch."
"I'll tell you how things go at our end," Wallander said.
He left Malmö. It was 6.25 a.m. At the turn-off for Jägersro, he pulled over to the side of the road and called Martinsson.
"I've been trying to reach you," Martinsson said. "We were supposed to have a meeting last night, but no one could contact you."
"I was in Denmark," Wallander said. "Tell everyone I want a meeting at 8 a.m."
"Has anything happened?"
"Yes, but I'll tell you about it later."
Wallander continued on towards Ystad. The weather was still beautiful. There were no clouds in the sky and no wind. He was feeling less tired, and his mind was starting to work again. He went through the meeting with Louise over and over, trying to home in on the face behind the wig and make-up. Sometimes he almost had it.
He reached Ystad at 7.40 a.m. Ebba was at the front desk. She sneezed.
"Caught a cold?" he asked. "In the middle of summer?"
"Even an old bag like me can have allergies," she replied good-naturedly. Then she looked sternly at him.
"You haven't had a wink of sleep, have you?"
"I was in Copenhagen. That's not conducive to a good night's sleep."
She didn't seem to see the humour in this. "If you don't start taking your health seriously, you'll pay for it," she said. "Mark my words."
He didn't answer. He was sometimes annoyed by her ability to see right through him. She was right, of course. He thought about the clumps of sugar in his bloodstream.
He got himself a cup of coffee and went into his office. Soon his colleagues would be waiting for him in the conference room. He would have to tell them what had happened the night before, how the killer had been there, gone to the lavatory, and disappeared.
A woman went up in smoke by taking on the form of a man. There was no Louise any more. All they had was an unknown man who simply removed his wig and disappeared without a trace. A man who had already killed eight people, and who might be preparing to strike again.
He thought about Isa Edengren, curled up in the cave behind the ferns, and shivered.
What do I tell them, Wallander thought. How do I find the right path through this unknown territory? We're pressed for time and can't afford to think through every possibility, every possible lead. How can I know which is the right way?
Wallander left his own questions unanswered and went to the men's room. He stared at his image in the mirror. He was swollen and pale, with watery bags under his eyes. For the first time in his life, the sight of his face made him nauseated.
I have to catch this killer, he thought. If only so I can go on medical leave and start taking control of my health.
It was now just after 8 a.m. Wallander left the men's room.
Everyone was already in the conference room when he entered. He felt like the tardy schoolboy, or perhaps the flustered teacher. There was Thurnberg, fingering his perfectly knotted tie. Holgersson smiled her quick, nervous smile. The others greeted him to the best of their exhausted capability: simply by being there.
Wallander sat down and told them exactly where things stood. How he had been inches away from the
killer, and how he had let him slip away under his very nose. He told the story calmly, starting with Maria Hjortberg and ending with Louise's smile and her apparent willingness to talk to him, saying she just had to visit the lavatory first.
"He must have removed the wig while he was in there," he said. "It was the same one as in the picture, by the way. He must have wiped off his make-up as well. He's careful by nature, and he must have foreseen the risk of being recognised. He probably had some make-up remover with him. I didn't notice him slip out because I was waiting for a woman."
"What about his clothes?" Höglund said.
"Some kind of trouser suit," Wallander said. "And low-heeled shoes. I suppose it might have been obvious that he was a man if one knew to look carefully. But you couldn't see while he sat at the bar."
Höglund's was the only question.
"I have no doubts that he's the one," Wallander said after a pause. "Why else would he leave like that?"
"Did you consider the fact that he might have been on your boat this morning?" Hansson asked.
"I did think of it," Wallander said. "But by then it was too late."
They should blame me for this, he thought. For this and for many other aspects of the investigation. I should have known it was a wig from the moment I first saw the photograph. If we had known we were looking for a man from the beginning it would all have been different. The search for him would have taken precedence over everything else. But I didn't see it. I didn't understand what I was looking at.
Wallander poured himself a glass of mineral water. "We have to assume he could strike again at any moment, so we have no time to lose. We have to re-examine the facts of this investigation to see if we can find any trace of this man."
"The photograph," Martinsson said. "We can manipulate it on the computer and make it look more like a man."
"That's at the top of our list right now," Wallander said. "We'll have that done as soon as we leave this meeting. A face can be significantly altered with make-up and a wig, but it can't be completely changed."
There was a new surge of energy in the room. Wallander didn't want to keep them any longer, but Holgersson sensed he was about to bring the meeting to a close, and raised her hand.
"I want to remind you that Svedberg's funeral is tomorrow at 2 p.m. With the best interests of this investigation in mind, I'm cancelling the reception afterwards."