collapsed into a heap in his chair. Behind the rolls of fat in his face Wallander thought he could sense the outline of another face from a time that now seemed immeasurably distant.
"She took Emil and went to her sister in Höör. She couldn't stand to stay here. The reporters kept calling. They show no mercy. They called in the middle of the night, some of them."
"I'm afraid I have to speak to her."
"I know. I've told her the police would reach her there."
Wallander wasn't sure how to proceed. "You and your wife must have talked about what happened."
"She doesn't understand it any more than I do. It was a total shock."
"You have a good relationship with Sonja?"
"There were never any problems."
"And between her and her mother?"
"The same. They had fights from time to time but only stuff you would expect. There have never been any problems, at least as long as I've known her."
Wallander furrowed his brow.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You knew she was my stepdaughter?"
Wallander was sure that this had not been in the report. He would have remembered it.
"Ruth and I had Emil together," Hökberg said. "Sonja was about two when I came on the scene. That was 17 years ago. Ruth and I met at a Christmas party."
"Who was Sonja's father?"
"His name was Rolf. He never cared about her. He and Ruth were never married."
"Do you know where he is?"
"He died a few years ago. Drank himself to death."
Wallander looked for a pen in his coat pocket. He had already realised that he had forgotten both his glasses and notebook. There was a pile of old papers on the glass table.
"Do you mind if I tear off a piece?"
"Can't the police afford office supplies any more?"
"That's a good question. As it happens I've forgotten my notebook."
Wallander used a magazine as a pad. He saw that it was an English-language financial magazine.
"Do you mind if I ask you what you do for a living?"
The answer was a surprise.
"I play the stock market."
"I see. What does that entail?"
"I trade stocks, options, foreign currency. I also place some bets, mainly English cricket games. Sometimes American baseball."
"So you mean you gamble?"
"Not the usual kind. I never place bets on horses. But I suppose you can call trading stocks a form of gambling."
"And you do all this from home?"
Hökberg got up and gestured for Wallander to follow him. When he walked into the adjoining room Wallander paused in the doorway. There was not simply one television in this room, there were three. Various numbers flashed past in a dark ribbon on the bottom of the screens. On one wall there was a series of clocks showing the time in various parts of the world. It was like walking into an air-traffic control tower.
"People always say technology has made the world smaller," Hökberg said. "I think that's debatable. But the fact that it's made my world bigger is beyond dispute. From this flimsy townhouse at the edge of Ystad, I can reach all the markets in the whole world. I can connect to betting centres in London or Rome. I can buy options on the Hong Kong market and sell American dollars in Jakarta."
"Is it really so simple?"
"Not altogether. You need permits, good contacts and knowledge. But when I step into this room I'm in the middle of the world. Whenever I choose. Strength and vulnerability go hand in hand."
They returned to the living room.
"I would like to see Sonja's room," Wallander said.
Hökberg accompanied him up the stairs. They walked past a room that Wallander assumed belonged to their boy, Emil. Hökberg pointed to a door.
"I'll wait downstairs," he said. "If you don't need me, that is."
"No, I'll be fine."
Wallander heard Hökberg's heavy steps going down the stairs. He pushed open the door. There was a sloping ceiling in the room and one of the windows was ajar. A thin curtain wafted in the draught. Wallander knew from long experience that the first impression was often the most valuable. A closer examination could reveal dramatic details that were not immediately visible, but
"She took Emil and went to her sister in Höör. She couldn't stand to stay here. The reporters kept calling. They show no mercy. They called in the middle of the night, some of them."
"I'm afraid I have to speak to her."
"I know. I've told her the police would reach her there."
Wallander wasn't sure how to proceed. "You and your wife must have talked about what happened."
"She doesn't understand it any more than I do. It was a total shock."
"You have a good relationship with Sonja?"
"There were never any problems."
"And between her and her mother?"
"The same. They had fights from time to time but only stuff you would expect. There have never been any problems, at least as long as I've known her."
Wallander furrowed his brow.
"What do you mean by that?"
"You knew she was my stepdaughter?"
Wallander was sure that this had not been in the report. He would have remembered it.
"Ruth and I had Emil together," Hökberg said. "Sonja was about two when I came on the scene. That was 17 years ago. Ruth and I met at a Christmas party."
"Who was Sonja's father?"
"His name was Rolf. He never cared about her. He and Ruth were never married."
"Do you know where he is?"
"He died a few years ago. Drank himself to death."
Wallander looked for a pen in his coat pocket. He had already realised that he had forgotten both his glasses and notebook. There was a pile of old papers on the glass table.
"Do you mind if I tear off a piece?"
"Can't the police afford office supplies any more?"
"That's a good question. As it happens I've forgotten my notebook."
Wallander used a magazine as a pad. He saw that it was an English-language financial magazine.
"Do you mind if I ask you what you do for a living?"
The answer was a surprise.
"I play the stock market."
"I see. What does that entail?"
"I trade stocks, options, foreign currency. I also place some bets, mainly English cricket games. Sometimes American baseball."
"So you mean you gamble?"
"Not the usual kind. I never place bets on horses. But I suppose you can call trading stocks a form of gambling."
"And you do all this from home?"
Hökberg got up and gestured for Wallander to follow him. When he walked into the adjoining room Wallander paused in the doorway. There was not simply one television in this room, there were three. Various numbers flashed past in a dark ribbon on the bottom of the screens. On one wall there was a series of clocks showing the time in various parts of the world. It was like walking into an air-traffic control tower.
"People always say technology has made the world smaller," Hökberg said. "I think that's debatable. But the fact that it's made my world bigger is beyond dispute. From this flimsy townhouse at the edge of Ystad, I can reach all the markets in the whole world. I can connect to betting centres in London or Rome. I can buy options on the Hong Kong market and sell American dollars in Jakarta."
"Is it really so simple?"
"Not altogether. You need permits, good contacts and knowledge. But when I step into this room I'm in the middle of the world. Whenever I choose. Strength and vulnerability go hand in hand."
They returned to the living room.
"I would like to see Sonja's room," Wallander said.
Hökberg accompanied him up the stairs. They walked past a room that Wallander assumed belonged to their boy, Emil. Hökberg pointed to a door.
"I'll wait downstairs," he said. "If you don't need me, that is."
"No, I'll be fine."
Wallander heard Hökberg's heavy steps going down the stairs. He pushed open the door. There was a sloping ceiling in the room and one of the windows was ajar. A thin curtain wafted in the draught. Wallander knew from long experience that the first impression was often the most valuable. A closer examination could reveal dramatic details that were not immediately visible, but
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