Faceless Killers: A Mystery by Henning Mankell

Author:Henning Mankell [Mankell, Henning]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781595586100
Amazon: B005MYTEJC
Publisher: New Press, The
Published: 2011-05-10T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

The last thing Kurt Wallander felt like was a laughing policeman as he stepped into the Svea Hotel in Simrishamn at seven o’clock on Friday morning. An almost impenetrable mixture of snow and rain was falling over Skane, and water had seeped through his shoes on his way from the car to the hotel.

He also had a headache.

He asked the waitress for a couple of headache tablets. She came back with a glass of water fizzing with white powder.

As he drank his coffee, he noticed that his hand was shaking.

He figured it was just as much from fear as from relief.

A few hours earlier, when Norén had ordered him to get out of his car on the two-lane road between Svaneholm and Slimminge, he had thought that it was all over. Now he wouldn’t be a cop anymore. The serious charge of driving under the influence would mean immediate suspension. And even if someday he were allowed to return to active duty on the police force, after having served a jail sentence, he would never be able to look his former colleagues in the eye.

He quickly imagined the possibility that he might become head of security for some company. Or he might slip through the background check of some less choosy guard service. But his twenty-year career with the police would be over. And he was a cop to the core.

He didn’t even consider trying to bribe Peters and Norén. He knew that was impossible. The only thing he could do was plead. Appeal to their team spirit, to their camaraderie, to their friendship, which didn’t really exist.

But he didn’t have to do that.

“Ride with Peters, and I’ll drive your car home,” Norén had said.

Kurt Wallander recalled his feeling of relief, but also the unmistakable hint of contempt in Norén’s voice.

Without a word he got into the back seat of the patrol car. Peters was silent and uncommunicative during the whole drive to Mariagatan in Ystad.

Norén had followed close behind; he parked the car and handed the keys to Wallander.

“Did anyone see you?” asked Norén.

“Nobody but you.”

“You were damn lucky.”

Peters nodded. And then Wallander realized that nothing was going to happen. Norén and Peters were committing a serious breach of duty for his sake. He had no idea why.

“Thank you,” he said.

“That’s all right,” Norén replied.

And then they had driven off.

Wallander went into his apartment and polished off the last of an almost empty bottle of whiskey. Then he fell asleep for several hours, lying on top of his bed. Without thinking, without dreaming. At six fifteen he got into his car again, after giving himself a cursory shave.

He knew, of course, that he was still intoxicated. But now there was no danger of running into Peters and Norén. They went off duty at six.

He tried to concentrate on what was in store for him. He was going to meet Göran Boman, and together they would go in search of a missing link in the investigation of the double murder at Lenarp.

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