A crazy expedition in crazy weather, Wallander thought as he locked the front door. But rather this than pacing around the apartment waiting for Mona to call. And if she does it'll serve her right. That I don't answer.

Lars Andersson immediately started to bring up old school memories. Half of it Wallander no longer had any recollection of. He often thought Andersson tiring because he constantly returned to their school years, as if they represented the best time of his life so far. For Wallander, school had been a grey drudge, where only geography and history enlivened him somewhat. But he still liked the man who sat behind the wheel. His parents had run a bakery out in Limhamn. For a while, the boys had been in frequent contact. And Lars Andersson was someone Wallander had always been able to count on. Someone who took their friendship seriously.

They left Malmö behind and were soon in Arlöv.

'Do you often get requests out here?' Wallander asked.

'It happens. Mostly on the weekends. People who have been drinking in Malmö or Copenhagen and who are on their way home.'

'Has anything bad ever happened to you?'

Lars Andersson glanced over at him.

'What do you mean?'

'Muggings, threats. I don't know.'

'Never. I've had a guy who tried to slip away without paying. But I caught up with him.'

They were now in the centre of Arlöv. Lars Andersson drove straight to the address.

'Here it is,' he said and pointed through the wet windscreen. 'Smedsgatan 9.'

Wallander cranked down his window and squinted out into the rain. Number 9 was the last of a row of six town houses. There was a light on in one window. Someone must be home.

'Aren't you going to go in?' Lars Andersson asked with surprise.

'It's a matter of surveillance,' Wallander answered vaguely. 'If you drive up a little I'll get out and take a look around.'

'Do you want me to come along?'

'That won't be necessary.'

Wallander got out of the car and pulled up the hood of his raincoat.

What do I do now? he wondered. Ring the doorbell and ask if it is possible that Mr Hålén was here last Wednesday between three in the afternoon and four in the morning? Is it a matter of adultery? What do I say if a man answers the door?

Wallander felt silly. This is senseless and childish and a waste of time, he thought. The only thing that I have managed to prove is that Smedsgatan 9 is actually an address in Arlöv.

Nonetheless, he couldn't help crossing the street. There was a mailbox next to the gate. Wallander tried to read the name on it. He had cigarettes and a box of matches in his pocket. With some difficulty he was able to light one of the matches and read the name before his flame was extinguished by the rain.

'Alexandra Batista,' he read. So Maria in the newsagent had been right, it was the first name that started with A. Hålén had called a woman named Alexandra. The question now was if she lived there alone or with family. He looked over the fence to see if there were any children's bicycles or other items that would indicate a family's presence. But he saw nothing like that.

He walked round the house. On the other side there was an undeveloped piece of property. Several old rusty drums had been placed behind a dilapidated fence. That was all. The house was dark from the back. Light was only coming from the kitchen window facing the street. Despite a rising feeling of being involved in something absolutely unjustified and senseless, Wallander decided to complete his investigation.

He stepped over the low fence and ran across the lawn to the house. If anyone sees me they will call the police, he thought. And I will get caught. And then the rest of my police career goes up in smoke.

He decided to give up. He could find the telephone number for the Batista family tomorrow. If it was a woman who answered he could ask a few questions. If it was a man he could hang up.

The rain was letting up. Wallander dried off his face. He was about to go back the same way that he had come when he discovered that the door to the balcony was open. Maybe they have a cat, he thought. That needs free passage at night.

At the same time he had a feeling that something wasn't right. He could not put his finger on what it was. But he was not able to dismiss it. Carefully he walked over to the door and listened. The rain had stopped almost completely now. In the distance he heard the sound of a tractor trailer die away and disappear. From inside the house he heard nothing. Wallander left the balcony door and walked over to the front of the house again.

The light was still shining in the window, which was open a little. He pressed up against the wall and strained to hear something. Everything was still, quiet. Then he gently raised himself on tiptoe and peered in through the window.

He jumped. Inside, there was a woman sitting in a chair, staring straight at him. He ran out to the street. At any moment someone was going to come running out onto the front steps and call for help. Or else there would be police cars. He hurried over to the car where Andersson was waiting and jumped into the front seat.

'Has anything happened?'

'Just drive,' Wallander said.

'Where to?'

'Away from here. Back to Malmö.'

'Was anyone home?'

'Don't ask. Start the engine and drive. That's all.'

Lars Andersson did as Wallander asked. They came out onto the main road towards Malmö. Wallander thought about the woman who had stared at him.

The feeling was there again. Something wasn't right.

'Turn into the next car park, would you?'

Lars Andersson continued to do as he was told. They stopped. Wallander sat without saying anything.

'You don't think it's best that I be told what's going on?' Andersson asked gingerly.

Wallander didn't answer. There was something about that woman's face. Something he couldn't pinpoint.

'Go back,' he said.

'To Arlöv?'

Wallander could hear that Andersson was starting to resist.

'I'll explain later,' Wallander said. 'Drive back to the same address. If you have the taxi meter you can turn it on.'

'I don't charge my friends, damn it!' Andersson said angrily.

They drove back to Arlöv in silence. There was no longer any rain.

Wallander got out of the car. No police cars, no reaction. Nothing. Only the lone light in the kitchen window.

Wallander carefully opened the gate. He walked back to the window. Before he heaved himself up to look he drew some deep breaths.

If things were as he suspected it would be very unpleasant.

He stood on tiptoe and gripped the windowsill. The woman was still sitting in the chair, staring straight at him with the same expression.

Wallander walked round the back of the house and opened the balcony door. In the light from the street he glimpsed a table lamp. He turned it on, then he removed his boots and walked out into the kitchen.

The woman was sitting there in the chair. But she was not looking at Wallander. She was staring at the window.

Around her neck was a bicycle chain, tightened with the help of a hammer handle.

Wallander felt his heart thumping in his chest.

Then he located the telephone, which was out in the hall, and he called the police station in Malmö.

It was already a quarter to eleven.

Wallander asked to speak to Hemberg. He was told that Hemberg had left the police station at around six o'clock. Wallander asked for his home number and called him immediately.

Hemberg picked up. Wallander could hear that he had been sleeping and had been awakened by the call.

Wallander explained the situation.

That there was a dead woman sitting in a chair in a town house in Arlöv.