He paused so she could speak, but she remained silent, watching him.

"You were supposed to have celebrated Midsummer with your friends Martin, Lena and Astrid," he continued. "But you fell ill. You had some kind of stomach bug and stayed at home. Isn't that right?"

No reaction. Wallander was suddenly unsure of how to proceed. How could he tell her what had happened? On the other hand it would be in all the papers tomorrow. She would suffer a great shock in either case.

I wish Ann-Britt were here, he thought. She would be better at this than I am.

"Astrid's mother received some postcards," he said. "They were signed by all three, or just by Astrid, and sent from Hamburg, Paris and Vienna. Had the four of you talked about going away after Midsummer?"

She finally began to answer his questions, but her voice was so low that Wallander had trouble hearing her.

"No, we hadn't decided anything," she whispered.

Wallander felt a lump in his throat. Her voice sounded as if it might break at any moment. He thought about what she was going to hear, that a simple virus had saved her life. Wallander wanted to call the doctor he had spoken to before and ask him what he should do. How would he tell her? He put it off for now.

"Tell me about the Midsummer party," he said.

"Why should I?"

He wondered how such a fragile voice could sound so determined. But she wasn't hostile. Her answers would depend on his questions.

"Because I'd like to know. Because Astrid's mother is worried."

"It was just a party."

"But you were going to dress up like 18th-century courtiers."

She couldn't know how he knew. He was taking a risk in asking the question, but she might be impossible to talk to after she found out what had happened to her friends.

"We did that sometimes."

"Why?"

"It made things different."

"To leave your own age and enter another?"

"Yes."

"Was it always the 18th century?"

There was an undertone of disdain in her answer. "We never repeated ourselves."

"Why not?"

She didn't reply, and Wallander immediately knew he had hit an important point. He tried to approach it from another direction.

"Is it possible to know how people dressed in the 12th century?"

"Yes, but we never entered that age."

"How did you choose an era?"

She didn't answer that either, and Wallander was starting to discern a pattern in the questions she wouldn't answer.

"Tell me what happened that Midsummer's Eve."

"I was sick."

"It must have come on suddenly."

"Diarrhoea usually does."

"What happened?"

"Martin came to get me and I told him I couldn't come."

"How did he react?"

"Like he was supposed to."

"How?"

"By asking me if it was true. Like he was supposed to."

Wallander didn't understand her answer. "What do you mean?"

"You're supposed to tell the truth. If you don't, they kick you out."

Wallander thought for a moment. "You took your friendship seriously, then. No one was allowed to lie. One untruth meant expulsion?"

She looked genuinely puzzled. "What would friendship be otherwise?"

He nodded. "Of course friendship is always based on mutual trust."

"What else is there?"

"I don't know," Wallander said. "Love, perhaps."

She pulled the blanket up under her chin.

"How did you feel when you realised that they had left to travel around Europe without you?"

She looked at him for a long time before answering. "I've already answered that question."

It took Wallander a moment before he made the connection. "Are you referring to the police officer who visited you earlier this summer?"

"Who else would I be referring to?"

"Do you remember when he came to see you?"

"On 1 or 2 July."

"What else did he ask you?"

She leaned in towards Wallander so suddenly that he pulled back involuntarily.

"I know he's dead. He was called Svedberg. Have you come here to tell me about him?"

"Not exactly, but I'd like to hear more about your conversation with him."

"There's nothing more to tell."

Wallander frowned. "What do you mean? He must have asked you something else."

"He didn't. I have it on tape."

"You recorded your conversation with Svedberg?"

"In secret, yes. I do that a lot."

"And that's what you did when Svedberg came to see you?"

"Yes."

"Where is that tape now?"

"In the gazebo, where you found me. There's a blue angel on the outside of the tape."

"A blue angel?"

"I make the wrappers myself."

Wallander nodded. "Do you mind if I have someone get the tape for me?"

"Why would I mind?"

Wallander called the station and instructed the policeman on duty to send a squad car to the house to get the tape. He also told them to get the Walkman he had seen on the bedside table.

"A blue angel?" the policeman asked.

"Yes, a blue angel on the wrapper. Tell them to hurry."

It took them exactly 29 minutes. While he was waiting, Isa spent more than 15 minutes in the bathroom. When she came back Wallander realised she had washed her hair. It occurred to him that perhaps he should have worried that she was making a second attempt on her life.

An officer came into the room and gave him the tape recorder and tape. Isa nodded in recognition. She took the Walkman and fast-forwarded to the place she was looking for.

"Here," she said and handed the headphones to Wallander.

Svedberg's voice came at him full-strength. He flinched as if he had been struck. He heard Svedberg clear his throat and ask a question. Her answer disappeared in the surrounding noise. He rewound the tape and listened again. He had heard correctly.

Svedberg had asked a similar question. But Isa was wrong – it wasn't the same question. Wallander had asked, "How did you feel when you realised that they had left to travel around Europe without you?"

The way Svedberg phrased his question dramatically altered its meaning: "Do you really think they have gone on a trip to Europe?"

Wallander listened to it a third time. Isa's reply couldn't be heard. He took off the headphones.

Svedberg knew, he thought. By 1 or 2 July, Svedberg had known they weren't travelling around Europe.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

They continued their conversation, although Wallander was finding it hard to concentrate. By 9 p.m. he didn't think he could hold off telling her the truth any longer. He excused himself by saying he was going to get a cup of coffee. In the hall he called Martinsson, who said that most of the officers were starting to return to Ystad. Soon only the forensic technicians and the security guards would be left. Nyberg and his team would work through the night. Wallander told him where he was and asked to speak to Höglund. She came to the phone, and he told her that he needed her help.

"Isa Edengren has to be notified of the deaths. I don't know how she's going to react."

"Well, at least she's already in the hospital. What do you think could happen to her?"

Her answer seemed unusually cold to Wallander until he realised that she was distancing herself from the situation. Nothing could be worse than the way she had spent this long August day.

"I'd still appreciate it if you could come over," he said. "That way at least I don't have to do this alone. She has just tried to commit suicide."

After they hung up, he looked for the nurse who had checked his blood-sugar levels and got the name and home number of the doctor he had spoken to. He also asked her what her impression of Isa Edengren was.

"Many people who try to commit suicide are very strong," she said. "There are always exceptions to the rule, but it's my impression that Isa Edengren is one such person."