Return of the Dancing Master (2003) by Henning Mankell

Author:Henning Mankell [Mankell, Henning]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Henning Mankell
ISBN: 9780099455462
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2003-08-22T23:00:00+00:00

"Why is it taking so long?"

"Troubles with the car."

"What kind of troubles?"

"Something to do with the gear box. I'll be back by tomorrow."

"Why do you sound so irritable?"

"I'm tired."

"How are you feeling?"

"I haven't the strength to go into that now. I just wanted to ring and tell you that I was on my way."

"You must realise that I am worried."

"I'll be in Boras tomorrow, I promise."

"Can't you tell me why you sound so irritable?"

"I've already said that I'm tired."

"Don't drive too fast."

"I never do."

"You always do."

The connection was cut off. Lindman sighed, but made no attempt to phone again. He switched his mobile off. The clock on the dashboard suggested it was 7.25 p.m. He wouldn't dare to break into Wetterstedt's flat before midnight. I ought to go home, he thought. What will happen if I'm caught? I'll be sacked and disgraced. A police officer breaking into a property is not something a prosecutor would turn a blind eye to. I wouldn't only be putting my own future on the line, I'd be creating trouble for all my colleagues. Larsson would think 1 he'd been visited by a lunatic. Olausson in Boras would never be able to laugh again.

He wondered if what he really wanted was to be caught. If he was intent on an act of self-destruction. He had cancer, and so he had nothing to lose. Was that the way it was? He didn't know. He drew his jacket closer around him, and closed his eyes.

When he woke up it was 8.30. He hadn't dreamt about the dogs again. Again he tried to convince himself that he should get out of Kalmar as quickly as possible. But in vain.

The last lights in the windows of the flats in Lagmansgatan went out. Lindman stood in the shadows under a tree, looking up at the facade of the block of flats. It had started raining and a wind was getting up. He hurried across the street and tried the front door. To his surprise, it was still open. He slipped into the dark entrance hall and listened. He had his tools in his pocket. He switched on his torch and crept up the stairs to the top floor. He shone his torch onto the door of Wetterstedt's flat. He'd remembered correctly. Earlier in the day when he'd been waiting for somebody to answer the door, he'd noticed the locks. There were two, but neither of them was a safety lock. That surprised him. Shouldn't a man like Wetterstedt take as many safety precautions as possible? If Lindman's luck was out, it would be fitted with an alarm, but that was a risk he would have to take.

He pushed the letter box open and listened. He couldn't be absolutely certain that there was nobody in the flat. It was all quiet. He took out the jemmy. The torch was small enough for him to hold in his teeth. He knew he could only make one attempt. If he didn't manage to open the door straightaway he would have to leave.

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