The Man Who Smiled by Henning Mankell Read Free Book Online Page B

walls. It occurred to him that he had overlooked one possibility: that whoever murdered Sten Torstensson was there to steal the objets d'art. He walked up to one of the paintings and tried to decipher the signature, trying also to establish whether it was a copy or an original. Without having been successful on either count, he moved on. There was a large globe next to the solid-looking desk, which was empty, apart from some pens, a telephone and a Dictaphone. He sat in the comfortable desk chair and continued to look around the room, thinking again about what Sten Torstensson had said to him in the cafe at the Art Museum in Skagen.
    A car accident that wasn't a car accident. A man who had spent the last months of his life trying to hide something that was worrying him.
    Wallander asked himself what would be the characteristics of a solicitor's life. Supplying legal advice. Defending when a prosecutor prosecutes. A solicitor was always receiving confidential information. Lawyers were under a strict oath of confidentiality. It dawned on him that solicitors had a lot of secrets to keep. He hadn't thought of that before.
    He got to his feet after a while. It was too soon to draw any conclusions.
    Lundin was still sitting motionless on her chair. He opened the door to Sten Torstensson's office. He hesitated for a second, as if half expecting to see the dead man's body lying there on the floor, as it was in the photographs he had seen in the case reports, but all that was left was a plastic sheet. The technical team had taken the dark green carpet away with them.
    The room was not unlike the one he had just left. The only obvious difference was a pair of visitors' chairs in front of the desk. This time Wallander refrained from sitting down. There were no papers on the desk.
    I'm still only scraping at the surface, he thought. I feel as if I'm listening as much as I am trying to get my bearings by looking.
    He went out to the reception area, closing the door behind him. Svedberg was back and was trying to persuade the girl to have one of his sandwiches. Wallander shook his head on being offered one as well. He pointed to the meeting room.
    "In there are two worthy gentlemen from the Bar Council," Svedberg said. "They're working their way through all the documents in the place. They record, seal and wonder what to do about them. Clients will be contacted and other solicitors will take over their business. Torstensson Solicitors to all intents and purposes no longer exists."
    "We must have access to all the material, of course," Wallander said. "The truth about what happened might well lie somewhere in their relationships with their clients."
    Svedberg raised his eyebrows and looked at Wallander. "Their?" he said. "I expect you mean the son's clients."
    "You're right. I do mean Sten Torstensson's clients."
    "It's a pity really that it's not the other way round."
    Wallander almost missed Svedberg's comment. "Why, what do you mean?"
    "It would appear that old man Torstensson had very few clients," Svedberg said. "Sten Torstensson, on the other hand, was mixed up in all kinds of things." He nodded in the direction of the meeting room. "They think they'll need a week or more to get through it."
    "I'd better not interrupt them, then," Wallander said. "I think I'd rather be having a word with Mrs Dunér."
    "Do you want me to come with you?"
    "No need, I know where she lives."
    Wallander went back to his car and started the engine. He was in two minds. Then he forced himself to come to a decision. He would start with the lead that nobody except him knew about. The lead Sten Torstensson had given him in Skagen.
    They have to be connected, Wallander thought as he drove slowly eastwards, passed the courthouse and Sandskogen and soon left the town behind. These two deaths are linked. There is no other rational explanation.
    He contemplated the grey landscape he was travelling through. It was drizzling. He turned up the heater.
    How can anybody