Read The Man Who Smiled for Free Online

certificate to say I'm fit. I feel good. I want to work."
    "I hope you're not pulling my leg," said Björk, uneasily.
    "No," Wallander said. "Something's happened that's changed my mind."
    "This is very sudden."
    "For me as well. To be precise it's just over an hour since I changed my mind. But I have one condition. Or rather, a request." Björk waited.
    "I want to be in charge of the Sten Torstensson case," Wallander said. "Who's in charge at the moment?"
    "Everybody's involved," Björk said. "Svedberg and Martinsson are in the main team, together with me. Åkeson is the prosecutor in charge."
    "Young Torstensson was a friend of mine," Wallander said.
    Björk nodded and rose to his feet. "Is this really true?" he said. "Have you really changed your mind?"
    "You heard what I said."
    Björk walked round his desk and stood face to face with Wallander. "That's the best piece of news I've heard for a very long time," he said. "Let's tear these documents up. Your colleagues are in for a surprise."
    "Who's got my old office?" Wallander said.
    "Hanson."
    "I'd like it back, if possible."
    "Of course. Hanson's on a course in Halmstad this week anyway. You can move in straight away."
    They walked down the corridor together until they came to Wallander's old office. His nameplate had been removed. That threw him for a moment.
    "I need an hour to myself," Wallander said.
    "We have a meeting at 8.30 about the Torstensson murder," Björk said. "In the little conference room. You're sure you're serious about this?"
    "Why shouldn't I be?"
    Björk hesitated before continuing. "You have been known to be a bit whimsical, even injudicious," he said. "There's no getting away from that."
    "Don't forget to cancel the press conference," Wallander said. Björk reached out his hand. "Welcome back," he said. "Thanks."
    Wallander closed the door behind Björk and immediately took the phone off the hook. He looked round the room. The desk was new. Hanson had brought his own. But the chair was Wallander's old one.
    He hung up his jacket and sat down.
    Same old smell, he thought. Same furniture polish, same dry air, same faint aroma of the endless cups of coffee that get drunk in this station.
    He sat for a long time without moving.
    He'd agonised for a year and more, searched for the truth about himself and his future. A decision had gradually formed and broken through the indecision. Then he had started reading a newspaper and everything had changed.
    For the first time in ages he felt a glow of satisfaction.
    He had reached a decision. Whether it was the right one he could not say. But that didn't matter any more.
    He reached for a notepad and wrote: Sten Torstensson . He was back on duty.
    CHAPTER 3
    At 8.30, when Björk closed the door of the conference room, Wallander felt as if he had never been away. The year and a half that had passed since his last investigation meeting had been erased. It was like waking up from a long slumber during which time had ceased to exist.
    They were sitting around the oval table, as so often before. As Björk had still not said anything, Wallander assumed his colleagues were expecting a short speech to thank them for their friendship and cooperation over the years. Then he would take his leave and the rest would concentrate on their notes and get on with the search for the killer of Sten Torstensson.
    Wallander realised that he had instinctively taken his usual place, on Björk's left. The chair on the other side was empty. It was as if his colleagues did not want to intrude too closely on somebody who did not really belong any more. Martinsson sat opposite him, sniffing loudly. Wallander wondered when he had ever seen Martinsson without a cold. Next to him sat Svedberg, rocking backwards and forwards on his chair and scratching his bald head with a pencil, as usual.
    Everything would have been just as before, it seemed to Wallander, had it not been for the woman in jeans and a blue blouse sitting on her own at the