To her husband, thought Wallander. Everything fits in so far.

“It was just after three,” Moberg went on. “I had another meeting at three-thirty, and needed to prepare myself. My own call dragged on a bit.”

“Could you see when she drove off?”

“I’d already gone back to my office by then.”

“So the last you saw of her was when she was using the car phone.”

Moberg nodded.

“What make of car was it?”

“I’m not so up on cars,” said the assistant manager. “But it was black. Dark blue, perhaps.”

Wallander shut his notebook.

“If you think of anything else, let me know right away,” he said. “Any little thing could be important.”

Wallander left the bank after noting down the name and telephone numbers of both the seller and the buyer. He used the front entrance, and paused in the square.

A paper bag, he thought to himself. That sounds like a bakery. He remembered there was a bakery on the street running parallel to the railroad. He crossed over the square then turned off to the left.

The girl behind the counter had been working all day Friday, but she didn’t recognize Louise Akerblom from the photo Wallander showed her.

“There is another bakery,” said the girl.

“Whereabouts?”

The girl explained, and Wallander could see it was just as close to the bank as the one where he was now. He thanked her, and left. He made his way to the bakery on the other side of the square. An elderly lady asked him what he wanted as he entered the shop. Wallander showed her the photograph and explained who he was.

“I wonder if you recognize her?” he asked. “She might have been here shopping shortly after three o’clock last Friday.”

The woman went to fetch her eyeglasses in order to study the photo more carefully.

“Has something happened?” she asked, curious to know. “Who is she?”

“Just tell me if you recognize her,” said Wallander gently.