The Return of the Dancing Master(20)

He drove back to Sveg. He stopped at the store in Linsell and bought the local newspaper, Härjedalen, published every Thursday (except public holidays). The man behind the counter gave him a friendly smile. Lindman could see he was curious.

“We don’t get very many visitors here in the autumn,” the man said. His nametag said that his name was Torbjörn Lundell. Lindman thought he might as well tell him the truth. “I knew Herbert Molin,” he said. “We worked together before he retired.”

Lundell looked doubtfully at him. “You’re the police,” he said. “Can’t our own force handle this?”

“I’ve got nothing to do with the investigation.”

“But even so, you’ve come here, from as far away as ... Halland, was it?”

“Vâstergötland. I’m on vacation. But Herbert told you that, did he? That he came from Borås?”

Lundell shook his head. “It was the police who said that. But he used to shop here. Every other week. Always on a Thursday. Never said a word unless he had to. Always bought the same things. He was a bit choosy when it came to coffee, though. I had to order it specially for him. French coffee.”

“When did you last see him?”

“Thursday, the week before he died.”

“Did you notice anything unusual about him?”

“Such as what?”

“Was he different at all?”

“He was the same as ever. Didn’t say a word more than he had to.”

Lindman hesitated. He shouldn’t have lapsed so easily into his role as a police officer. Rumors would get around that there was a policeman from some distant place, asking awkward questions. Nevertheless, there was one question he simply couldn’t resist asking.

“Have you had any other customers lately? Ones you don’t usually have?”

“That’s what the fuzz from Ostersund asked me. And the officer from Sveg. I told ’em the way it was—apart from a few Norwegians and some berry pickers from Belgium last week, I haven’t seen a soul here that I didn’t know.”

Lindman thanked him, left the shop, and continued towards Sveg. It was dark by now. He was feeling distinctly hungry.

He’d gotten an answer to one of his questions, though. There was a police presence in Sveg. Even if the investigation was based in Östersund.





Shortly before he came to Glissjöberg an elk ran over the road into his headlights. He managed to brake in time. The animal disappeared into the trees at the side of the road. He waited to see if others would follow it, but none did.

He parked outside his hotel. There was a group of men in uniforms chatting away in the lobby. He went up to his room and sat on the bed. Before he knew where he was, he had visions of himself lying in bed with tubes attached to his body and face. Elena was in a chair at the side of his bed, crying.

He jumped up and slammed his fist hard into the wall. Before he knew where he was there came a knock at the door. Another of the test drivers.

“Did you want something?” the man said.

“What on earth would I want?”

“You knocked on the wall.”

“It must have been from somewhere else.”

Lindman slammed the door in the driver’s face. I’ve made my first enemy in Harjedalen, he thought. Just when I should be concentrating on making friends. That set him thinking. Why did he have so few friends? Why didn’t he move in with Elena and start living the life he really yearned for? Why did he lead a life that left him all on his own, now that he was faced with a serious illness? He had no answer to that.

He thought about calling Elena, but decided to eat first. He went down to the dining room and chose a window table. He was the only customer. He could hear the sound from a television set coming from the bar. To his surprise he found that the receptionist had been reincarnated as a waitress. He ordered a steak and a beer. As he ate, he thumbed through the newspaper he’d bought in Linsell. He read all the way through the obituaries, and tried to imagine his own obituary. He ordered a coffee after the meal, and stared out into the darkness.

He left the dining room and paused in the lobby, wondering whether to go for a walk or return to his room. He chose the latter course. He dialed Elena’s number. She picked up immediately. Lindman had the impression she’d been sitting by the phone, waiting for him to call.

“Where are you?”

“In Sveg.”

“What’s it like there?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Cold, and I feel lonely.”

“I don’t understand why you’ve gone there.”

“Neither do I.”

“Come back home, then.”