The Dogs Of Riga Part 16

"How do people meet?" she said with a sad smile. "Through friends. I'd heard about this young police officer who wasn't like the others. He didn't look much, but I fell in love with him the first time I saw him."

"So you got married? He kept on working?"

"He was a captain when we met, but he was promoted unusually quickly. Every time he took another step up the ladder, he would come home and say that another invisible little funeral wreath had been hung on his shoulder straps. He continued to try to find proof of a link between the leading politicians of our country, the police, and various gangs. He had made up his mind to pin down all the contacts, and he once talked about a secret government department here in Latvia whose only purpose was to coordinate contacts between the underworld and the politicians and police officers involved. About a year ago I heard him use the word 'conspiracy* for the first time. You mustn't forget that he had the feeling then that he was in step with the times: perestroika perestroika in Moscow had spread as far as Latvia, and we'd begun to meet more often and to discuss more openly what needed to be done in our country." in Moscow had spread as far as Latvia, and we'd begun to meet more often and to discuss more openly what needed to be done in our country."

"Was his boss still Amtmanis?"

"Amtmanis had died. Murniers and Putnis had become his immediate superiors. He distrusted both of them, and had the definite feeling that one of them was involved in, and possibly even the leader of the conspiracy he was trying to penetrate. He said there was a 'condor' and a 'lapwing' in the police force, but he didn't know which was which."

"A condor and a lapwing?"

"The condor is a vulture, but the lapwing is an innocent wader. When Karlis was a boy, he was very interested in birds and had even dreamt of becoming an ornithologist."

"But he didn't know which was which? I thought he had decided it was Colonel Murniers?"

"That was much later, about ten months ago. Karlis was on the trail of a huge drug-trafficking ring. He said it was a devilish plan that would be able to kill us twice."

"What did he mean by that?"

"I don't know." She stood up quickly, as if she were suddenly scared of going any further. "I can offer you a cup of tea," she said. "I'm afraid I don't have any coffee."

"I'd love a cup of tea," Wallander said.

She disappeared to the kitchen and Wallander tried to decide the most important questions to ask next. He was sure that she was being honest with him, but he still didn't know what she and Upitis thought he could do to help them. He doubted he'd be able to fulfil the expectations they had of him. I'm just a simple police officer from Ystad, he thought. What you people need is a man like Rydberg - but he's dead, like the major. He can't help you.

She came back with a teapot and cups on a tray. There must be somebody else in the flat, he thought - the water couldn't possibly have boiled as quickly as that. Wherever I go there's a hidden guard keeping watch on me, and I understand very little of what's really going on.

He could see she was tired.

"How long can we go on?" he asked.

"Not much longer. My house is bound to be under observation -1 can't stay away too long, but we can continue here tomorrow night." can't stay away too long, but we can continue here tomorrow night."

"I'm invited to Colonel Putnis's then."

"I understand. What about the following night?"

He nodded, took a sip of tea (which was weak), and continued putting his questions. "You must have wondered what Karlis meant by the drug-smuggling ring killing twice," he said. "You must have discussed it with Upitis, surely?"

"Karlis once said that you can use anything at all for blackmail purposes," she answered. "When I asked what he meant by that, he said it was something one of the colonels had told him. Why I remember that particular detail, I have no idea. Maybe because Karlis was very quiet and withdrawn at the time.

"Blackmail?"

"That was the word he used." "Who was going to be blackmailed?" "Latvia."

"Did he really say that? A whole country could be subjected to blackmail?" "Yes. If I weren't certain, I wouldn't say it." "Which of the colonels had used the word 'blackmail'?" "I think it was Murniers, but I'm not sure." "What did Karlis think of Colonel Putnis?" "He said Putnis wasn't among the worst." "What did he mean by that?"

"He observed the law. He didn't take bribes from just anyone."

"But he did take bribes?" "They all do." "Not Karlis, though?" "Never. He was different."

Wallander could see she was starting to get restless. The rest of his questions would have to wait.

"Baiba," he said - and that was the first time he used her first name - "I want you to think over everything you've told me this evening. The day after tomorrow I might ask you the same questions again."

"Yes," she said. "All I do is think."

For a moment he thought she was going to cry, but she regained her self-control and got to her feet. She drew a curtain hanging on one wall back to reveal a door, which she opened. A young woman entered, smiled and began to clear away the tea things.

"This is Inese," Baiba Liepa told him. "You've been to visit her this evening. That's your explanation if you're asked. You met her in the nightclub at the Latvia Hotel, and she's become your lover. You don't know exactly where she lives, only that it's on the other side of the bridge. You don't know her second name as she's only your lover for the few days you're in Riga. You think she's a filing clerk."

Wallander listened open-mouthed. Baiba Liepa said something in Latvian, and Inese struck a pose for him.

"Remember her face," Baiba Liepa said. She'll be collecting you the day after tomorrow. Go to the nightclub after 8 8 p.m., and you'll find her there." p.m., and you'll find her there."

"What's your own alibi?"

"I went to an organ concert, then visited my brother." "Your brother?"

"He was the one driving the car."

"Why did you put a hood over my head when I went to meet Upitis?"

"His judgement is better than mine - we didn't then know if we could trust you."

"What do you really think I can do to help?"

"See you the day after tomorrow," she said evasively. "We have no time to lose."

The car was at the gate. She didn't say a word during the drive back to the city centre. Wallander suspected she was crying. When they dropped him not far from the hotel, she shook his hand. She muttered something in Latvian, and Wallander scrambled out of the car, which disappeared in a flash. He was hungry, but even so he went straight up to his room. He poured himself a gla.s.s of whisky then lay down on the bed, under the cover. He could think only of Baiba Liepa.

It was after 2 2 a.m. before he undressed and got into bed. In his dreams, someone was lying at his side. It wasn't his "lover" Inese, but somebody else, someone the colonels directing his dreams never allowed him to see. a.m. before he undressed and got into bed. In his dreams, someone was lying at his side. It wasn't his "lover" Inese, but somebody else, someone the colonels directing his dreams never allowed him to see.

Sergeant Zids collected him the next morning at exactly 8 a.m. At 8.30 a.m. Colonel Murniers called in at his office.

"We think we've found Major Liepa's murderer," he said.

Wallander looked at him in astonishment.

"You mean the man Colonel Putnis has been interrogating these last couple of days?"

"No, not him. He's no doubt a slimy criminal who's also involved in some way or other - but we've got another man. Come and see!"

They went down to the bas.e.m.e.nt. Murniers opened the door to an antechamber with a two-way mirror on one wall. Murniers beckoned to Wallander, inviting him to take a look.

The room behind the mirror had bare walls, a table and two chairs. On one of the chairs was Upitis. He had a dirty bandage on his forehead. He was wearing the same shirt he'd had during their night-time conversation in the unknown hunting lodge.

"Who is he?" Wallander asked, without taking his eyes off Upitis. He was afraid his shock might betray him. On the other hand, maybe Murniers knew already.

"He's a man we've had our eyes on," Murniers said. "A failed academic, poet, b.u.t.terfly collector, journalist. Drinks too much, talks too much. He's spent quite a few years in prison, for all kinds of offences. We've known for some time that he was involved in serious crime, although we could never prove it. We had an anonymous tip suggesting he might have something to do with Major Liepa's death." "Is there any proof?"

"Needless to say, he doesn't confess to anything at all -but we have evidence as significant as a voluntary confession."

"What?"

"The murder weapon."

Wallander turned to look at Murniers.

"The murder weapon," Murniers repeated. "Perhaps we should go up to my office so that I can give you the background to this arrest. Colonel Putnis ought to be there as well by now."

Wallander followed Murniers up the stairs. He noticed the Colonel was humming to himself. Somebody's been leading me up the garden path, he thought, horrified. Somebody's been leading me up the garden path - but I don't know who. I don't know who, and I don't know why.

CHAPTER 12.

Upitis was charged. When the police searched his flat they found an old wooden club with strands of hair stuck to it. Upitis didn't have an alibi for the night of Major Liepa's murder. He claimed he was drunk, had been with some friends, but couldn't remember whom. In the course of the morning Murniers sent out a squad of officers to question people who might have been able to supply Upitis with an alibi, but n.o.body remembered having seen or been visited by him. Murniers expended an enormous amount of energy on the search, while Colonel Putnis seemed more inclined to wait and see what developed.

Wallander did everything he could to discover the truth. His first reaction when he saw Upitis through the two-way mirror was that Upitis had been betrayed, but then he started to have doubts. Too much was still unclear. Baiba Liepa's description of living in a society where conspiracy was the highest common denominator echoed in his ears. Even if Major Liepa's suspicions had been correct and Murniers was a corrupt police officer, if he was the person behind the major's death, the whole case seemed to be descending into the unreal. Was Murniers prepared to risk sending an innocent man to court merely in order to get rid of him? Wasn't that an act of extraordinary arrogance?

"If he's found guilty," he asked Putnis, "what punishment will he get?"

"We are sufficiently old-fashioned to have retained the death penalty," Putnis said. "Murdering a high-ranking police officer is just about the worst crime you can commit. I would expect him to be shot. Personally, I think that would be an appropriate punishment - what is your view, Inspector Wallander?"

Wallander made no reply. That he was in a country where they executed criminals was so horrific that he was rendered temporarily speechless.

Putnis was playing a waiting game, and Wallander realised that the two colonels often went in different directions without telling each other. Putnis had not even been informed of Murniers's anonymous tip-off. In the course of one of Murniers's most frenzied moments of hyperactivity during the morning, Wallander had invited Putnis into his office, asked Sergeant Zids to fetch some coffee, and tried to get Putnis to explain to him what was actually going on. From the start he had observed a certain tension between the colonels, and now, when he was more confused than ever, he thought he had nothing to lose by putting his misgivings to Putnis.

"Is this really the right man?" he asked. "What motive could he have? A wooden club with some bloodstains and strands of hair - how can that be proof before anybody has even carried out forensic tests? The hair could be from a cat, couldn't it?"

Putnis shrugged. "We shall see," he said. "Murniers is pretty sure of what he's doing. He very seldom arrests the wrong man - he's much more efficient than I am. But you seem to have misgivings, Mr Wallander. Might I ask on what grounds?"

"I just wonder, that's all," Wallander said. "All too often I've arrested a criminal who seemed to be the most unlikely of suspects."

They sat in silence, drinking their coffee.

"Of course, it would be marvellous if Major Liepa's murderer could be caught," Wallander said, "but this Upitis doesn't look like the leader of a criminal network that made up its mind to dispose of a police officer."

"Possibly he's a drug addict," Putnis said hesitantly. "Drug addicts can be driven to do anything at all. Somebody in the background might have given him an order."

"To kill a senior police officer with a wooden club? A knife or a pistol, OK - but a wooden club? And how did he manage to carry the body to the harbour?"

"I don't know. That's what Murniers is going to find out."

"How's it going with that man you are interrogating?"

"Well. He hasn't admitted anything yet, but he will. I'm convinced he's been part of the drug smuggling that the men who drifted ash.o.r.e in the life-raft were involved in. Just now I'm keeping him waiting, giving him time to think over the situation he's in."

Putnis went back to his office and Wallander sat perfectly still in his chair, trying to get a fix on the situation. He wondered whether Baiba Liepa knew that her friend Upitis had been arrested for the murder of her husband. He returned in his mind's eye to the hunting lodge in the forest, and realised it was conceivable that Upitis might have been afraid that Wallander knew something which might also have forced him to smash a Swedish police officer's head with a wooden club. Wallander could see that all theories were crumbling, all the trails getting cold, one by one. He tried to rea.s.semble the pieces to see if there was anything he could salvage.

After an hour of quiet contemplation, he concluded there was only one thing for him to do - go back to Sweden.

He had come to Riga because the Latvian police had asked for his a.s.sistance. He hadn't been able to give them any help, and now that a culprit seemed to have been arrested, there was no longer any reason for him to stay. He had no choice but to accept his own confusion, accept that he had actually been interrogated at night by a man who might turn out to be the person he'd been looking for. He had played the role of Mr Eckers Eckers without knowing anything about the play he a.s.sumed he was taking part in. The only sensible thing to do was to go home as soon as possible and forget the whole business. And yet, he was reluctant to do that. Beyond all the uneasiness and confusion there was something else: Baiba Liepa's fear and defiance, Upitis's weary eyes. It occurred to him that much about Latvian society was beyond his comprehension, it might also be that he could see things the others couldn't see. without knowing anything about the play he a.s.sumed he was taking part in. The only sensible thing to do was to go home as soon as possible and forget the whole business. And yet, he was reluctant to do that. Beyond all the uneasiness and confusion there was something else: Baiba Liepa's fear and defiance, Upitis's weary eyes. It occurred to him that much about Latvian society was beyond his comprehension, it might also be that he could see things the others couldn't see.

He decided to give it a few more days. As he felt the need to do something practical, instead of just sitting and brooding in his office, he asked Sergeant Zids, who had been waiting patiently in the corridor, to fetch the doc.u.mentation for all the cases Major Liepa had been concerned with over the past twelve months. He could see no obvious way forward, so he decided to go backwards for a while, into the major's recent past. Perhaps he might be able to find something in the archives that could provide a lead.

Sergeant Zids demonstrated his usual efficiency by returning after half an hour with a bundle of dusty files. Six hours later Sergeant Zids was hoa.r.s.e and complaining of a headache. Wallander had allowed neither Zids nor himself a lunch break: they had gone through the files one by one, and Sergeant Zids had translated, explained, answered Wallander's questions, then gone on translating. Now they had come to the last page of the last report in the last file, and Wallander had to face his disappointment. He knew that during the last year of his life Major Liepa had arrested a rapist, a robber who had been terrorising one of Riga's suburbs for ages, solved two cases of postal forgery, and cracked three murders of which two had taken place in families where the murderer and the victim had known each other. He had found no trace of what Baiba Liepa had maintained was her husband's real task. There was no doubt that Major Liepa had been a conscientious and at times even pedantic investigator, but that was all Wallander had been able to glean from the day's work. As he sent Zids off to return the files, it occurred to him that the only remarkable thing about them was what wasn't there. Major Liepa must have saved his data from the covert investigation somewhere, Wallander was certain of it. He couldn't have carried it all in his head. He had no doubt there was a risk of being caught out, so how could he seriously contemplate conducting an investigation aimed at the future without leaving a testimony somewhere or other? He could have been run over by a bus, and there would be no record. There must be a written record somewhere, and somebody must know where it was. Did Baiba Liepa know? Or Upitis? Was there some other person in the major's background, somebody the major had even kept secret from his wife? "Every secret we confide in another person can be a burden to them," Baiba Liepa had said, and those were certainly her husband's words.

Sergeant Zids came back from the archives. "Did Major Liepa have any family apart from his wife?" Wallander asked him.

"I don't know," he replied, "but no doubt Mrs Liepa will."

Wallander didn't want to ask Baiba Liepa that question just yet. He thought that from now on, he had no alternative but to follow what seemed to be the normal procedure here, and not to pa.s.s on any unnecessary information or confidences, but act on his own according to a private agenda.

"There must be a personal dossier on Major Liepa," he said. "I'd like to see it."

"I don't have access to that," Sergeant Zids said. "Only a few people can access the personal archives."

Wallander pointed to the telephone. "Call somebody who does have that access," he said. "Tell them that the Swedish police officer wants to see Major Liepa's personal dossier."

Sergeant Zids finally managed to contact Colonel Murniers, who promised that Major Liepa's dossier would be produced immediately. Three quarters of an hour later it was on Wallander's desk. It was in a red file, and the first thing he saw on opening it was the major's face. It was an old photograph, and he was surprised to see that the major's appearance had hardly changed in over ten years.

"Translate!" he told Zids.

The sergeant shook his head. "I don't have the authority to see the contents of red files," he said.

"If you're allowed to collect the file, surely you're allowed to translate the contents for me?"

Sergeant Zids shook his head sadly. "I don't have the authority," he said.

"I'm giving you the authority. All you need to do is to tell me if Major Liepa had any other family besides his wife. Then I'll order you to forget everything."

Reluctantly, Sergeant Zids sat down and leafed through the papers. Wallander had the impression that Zids was handling the papers with as much distaste as if they had been dead bodies.

Major Liepa had a father. According to the dossier he had the same first name as his son, Karlis, and was a retired postmaster with an address in Ventspils. Wallander recalled the brochure the red-lipped lady at the hotel had shown him: it contained details of an excursion to the coast and the town of Ventspils. Major Liepa's father was 74, and a widower. Wallander studied the major's face one more time, and pushed the file to one side. At that moment Murniers entered the room. Sergeant Zids hurriedly got to his feet and tried to put as much distance as possible between himself and the red file.

"Have you found anything interesting?" Murniers asked. "Anything we've overlooked?"

"Nothing. I was just going to send the dossier back to the archive."

The sergeant took the file and left the room.

"How is the interrogation of the man you've arrested?" Wallander asked.