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opposite end of the table. He had never met her, but he knew who she was, and even knew her name. It was almost two years since they had started talking about strengthening the Ystad force, and that was when the name Ann-Britt Höglund had cropped up for the first time. She was young, had graduated from Police Training College barely three years before, but had already made a name for herself. She had received one of two prizes awarded on the basis of final examinations and general achievements in the assessment of her fellow cadets. She came from Svarte originally, but had grown up in the Stockholm area. Police forces all over the country had tried to enrol her, but she made it clear she would like to return to Skåne, the province of her birth, and took a job with the Ystad force.
    Wallander caught her eye, and she smiled fleetingly at him.
    So, it is not the same as it was before, he thought. With a woman among us, nothing can stay as it used to be.
    That was as much as he had time to think. Björk had risen to his feet, and Wallander sensed that he was nervous. Perhaps it had been too late. Perhaps his contract had already been terminated without his knowing?
    "Monday mornings are normally hard going," Björk said. "Especially when we have to deal with the particularly unpleasant and incomprehensible murder of one of our colleagues, Mr Torstensson. But today I am able to commence our meeting with some good news. Kurt has announced that he is back to good health, and is starting work again as of now. I am the first to welcome him back, of course, but I know all my colleagues feel the same. Including Ann-Britt Höglund, whom you haven't met yet."
    There was silence. Martinsson stared at Björk in disbelief, and Svedberg put his head to one side, gaping at Wallander as if he couldn't believe his ears. Ann-Britt Höglund looked as if what Björk had just said hadn't sunk in.
    Wallander felt bound to say something. "It's true," he said. "I'm starting work again today."
    Svedberg stopped rocking to and fro and slammed the palms of his hands down on the table with a thud. "That's terrific news, Kurt. We couldn't have managed another damned day without you."
    Svedberg's spontaneous comment made the whole room burst out laughing. One after another they stood up in a queue to shake Wallander by the hand. Björk tried to organise coffee and pastries, and Wallander had difficulty in hiding the fact that he was moved.
    It was all over in a few minutes. There was no more time for emotional outpourings for which Wallander was grateful, at least for now. He opened the notebook he had brought with him from his office, containing nothing but Sten Torstensson's name.
    "Kurt has asked me if he can join the murder investigation without more ado," Björk said. "Of course he can. I think the best way to kick off is by making a summary of how things stand. Then we can give Kurt a little time to familiarise himself with the particulars."
    He nodded to Martinsson, who had obviously been the one to take on Wallander's role as team leader.
    "I'm still a bit confused," Martinsson said, leafing through his papers. "But basically this is how it looks. On the morning of Wednesday, October 27, in other words five days ago, Mrs Berta Dunér - secretary to the firm of solicitors - arrived for work as usual, a few minutes before 8 a.m. She found Sten Torstensson shot dead in his office. He was on the floor between the desk and the door. He had been hit by three bullets, each one of which would have been enough to kill him. As nobody lives in the building, which is an old stone-built house with thick walls, and located on a main road as well, nobody heard the shots. At least, nobody has come forward as yet. The preliminary postmortem results indicate he was shot at around 11 p.m. That would fit in with Mrs Dunér's statement to the effect that he often worked late at night, especially after his father died in such tragic circumstances."
    Martinsson paused at