Wallander showed Holmberg out to the street. Only when the man had turned the corner on his bike did Wallander go back in and return to Hålén's apartment. Then he sat down at the kitchen table and in his mind walked back over everything that Holmberg had said. The only reasonable explanation he could come up with was that Hålén had arrived at his decision to kill himself very suddenly. If you could rule out the idea of him being so crazy that he wanted to play a mean trick on an innocent salesman.

Somewhere in the distance a telephone rang. Far too late he realised it was his own. He ran into the apartment. It was Mona.

'I thought you were going to meet me,' she said angrily.

Wallander looked at his watch and swore quietly. He should have been down by the boat at least a quarter of an hour ago.

'I got caught up in a criminal investigation,' he said apologetically.

'I thought you were off today?'

'Unfortunately they needed me.'

'Are there really no other policemen except you? Is this how it's going to be?'

'It was an exception.'

'Did you go grocery shopping?'

'No, I ran out of time.'

He heard how disappointed she was.

'I'll come get you now,' he said, 'I'll try to hail a cab. Then we can go to a restaurant somewhere.'

'How can I be sure? Maybe you'll get called away again.'

'I'll be down there as soon as I can, I promise.'

'I'll be on a bench outside. But I'm only waiting for twenty minutes. Then I'm going home.'

Wallander hung up and called the cab company. It was busy. It took almost ten minutes for him to get a cab. Between tries, he managed to lock up Hålén's apartment and change his shirt.

He arrived at the ferry terminal after thirty-three minutes. Mona had already left. She lived on Södra Förstadsgatan. Wallander walked up to Gustav Adolf 's Square and called from a payphone. There was no answer. Five minutes later he called again. By then she was home.