The dogs of Riga by Henning Mankell

Author:Henning Mankell [Mankell, Henning]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Wallander, Kurt (Fictitious character), General, Suspense, Mystery & Detective, Crime & Thriller, Police, Crime, Police Procedural, Detective and mystery stories, Political, Mystery, Crime & mystery, Fiction
ISBN: 9781860469596
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 2002-05-09T07:39:40.391000+00:00

"I only said I might. I didn't say it was definite."

But his father wasn't listening. He'd gone back to the easel and was finishing the grouse's beak. Wallander sat on an old sledge and watched him for a while in silence. Then he went home, thinking how he had nobody to talk to. He was 43 years old, and missed having somebody to confide in. When Rydberg died, he'd become lonelier than he could ever have imagined. The only person he had was Linda. He couldn't talk to Mona, his ex-wife. She'd become a stranger to him, and he knew next to nothing about her life in Malmö.

As he drove past the turning to Kåseberga, he thought of going to Kristianstad to pay a visit to Goran Boman in the police there. Maybe he could talk to him about everything that had happened. But he didn't. He returned to duty after writing a report for Björk. Martinsson and his other colleagues asked him a few questions over coffee in the canteen, but it was soon clear they weren't really interested in anything he had to say. He posted his application to the factory in Trelleborg and rearranged the furniture in his office in an attempt to revive some enthusiasm for work. Björk seemed to have noticed his heart wasn't really in it, and made a well-meaning but vain effort to cheer him up by asking him to stand in for him and give a lecture to the Rotary Club. He agreed to do it, and gave an unsuccessful talk on technology in police work over lunch at the Continental Hotel. He forgot every word he'd said the moment he sat down.

One morning he woke up and was convinced he was ill. He went to the police doctor and was given a thorough examination. The doctor could find nothing wrong with him, but advised him to continue to keep an eye on his weight. He had returned from Riga on the Wednesday, and on the Saturday evening he drove to a restaurant in Ahus where there was a dance band. After a couple of dances a physiotherapist from Kristianstad called Ellen invited him to join her at her table, but he couldn't get Baiba Liepa's face out of his mind, she was following him around like a shadow, and he made his excuses and left early. He took the coast road from Ahus and stopped at the deserted field where the flea markets are held every summer - the previous year he had set off there like a madman, gun in hand, in pursuit of a murderer. The field was lightiy covered in snow, the full moon was shining over the sea, and he could see Baiba Liepa standing before him. He drove back to his flat in Ystad and drank himself into a stupor. He turned his stereo up so loudly that the neighbours started thumping on the walls.

He woke on the Sunday morning with palpitations, and

that’

the day developed into a long drawn-out wait for something unidentifiable, something unreachable.

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