This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Pantheon Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York. Originally published in Sweden as Carambole by Albert Bonniers Frlag, Stockholm, in 1999. Copyright 1999 by Hkan Nesser. This translation originally published in Great Britain by Mantle, an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited, in 2012.
Pantheon Books and colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
[Carambole. English]
Hour of the wolf : an inspector Van Veeteren mystery / Hkan Nesser ; translated from the Swedish by Laurie Thompson.
ISBN 978-0-307-90687-8 (hardcover : alk. paper). ISBN 978-1-101-87059-4 (eBook).
1. Van Veeteren, Inspector (Fictitious character)Fiction. 2. MurderInvestigationFiction. I . Thompson, Laurie, 1938 translator. II . Title.
In the natural order of things, fathers do not bury their sons.
The boy who would soon die laughed, and sat up straight. Brushed the remains of some chips off his shirt and stood up.
I must go now, he said. I really must. The last bus is due in five minutes.
Yes, said the girl, I suppose you must. I darent allow you to sleep over. I dont know what Mom would say, shell be home in a couple of hours. Shes working late tonight.
Thats a shame, said the boy, pulling his thick sweater over his head. It would be great to spend the night with you. Couldnt we maybemaybe
He hesitated about what to say next. She smiled and took hold of his hand. Held on to him. She knew he didnt really mean what he said. Knew he was only pretending. He would never dare, she thought. He wouldnt be able to cope with a situation like that.And for a brief moment she toyed with the idea of saying yes. Letting him stay.
Just in order to see how he reacted. See if he would go along with it, or if he would chicken out.
Let him think just for a moment that she would agree to lie naked in bed with him.
It would be fun, no doubt about that. It could have taught her a lot about him. But she dropped the idea: it wouldnt have been fair, and she liked him too much to be as egotistic and scheming as that. She really did like him an awful lot, come to think about it, so sooner or later they would get to that stage no matter what. Lying in bed, both of them naked under the same duvetYes, that was what she had been feeling for the last few weeks, there was no point in shutting her eyes to the fact.
The first one. He would be her first one. But not tonight.
Another time, then, she said, letting go of him. Ran her hands through her hair to get rid of the static electricity from the silky cover of the sofa. You only ever think of one thing, you fucking stallions!
Huh, he said, trying to produce an appropriately disappointed expression on his face.
He went out into the hall; she adjusted her sweater and followed him.
We could be as quiet as mice and pretend you were asleep, then I could sneak out tomorrow morning before she wakes up. he said, not wanting to seem to give up too easily.
We can do it another time, she said. Moms working nights next monthmaybe then?
He nodded. Put on his boots and started looking for his scarf and gloves.
Oh, shit! Ive forgotten my French book. Could you grab it for me, please?
She went back to get it. When he had buttoned up his duffel coat they started hugging again. She could feel his erection through all the layers of cloth: he hugged her close, and just for a moment her head spun. It felt goodlike falling without having to worry about landing, and she realized that the link between reason and emotions, between mind and heart, was just as weak as her mother had said it would be when they sat at the kitchen table speaking seriously about such matters only the other day.
Not something you can rely on. Your reason is nothing more than a handkerchief you can blow your nose into afterward, her mother had said, looking as if she knew what she was talking about.
Which she did, of course. Her mother had had three men, none of whom had been worth keeping, if she understood the situation correctly. Certainly not her father. She bit her lip and pushed Wim away. He laughed, sounding slightly embarrassed.
I like you a lot, Wim, she said. I really do. But you must go now, or youll miss your bus.
I like you a lot as well, he said. Your hair
My hair?
You have such amazingly beautiful hair. If I were a little insect, I would want to live in it.
Oh, come on! she said with a smile. Are you suggesting that Ive got lice?
Of course not! He grinned broadly. I just mean that if I die before you do, I hope to be resurrected as a little insect and come and live in your hair. So that wed be together despite everything.
She turned serious.
You shouldnt talk like that about death, she said. I like you so much, but please dont talk so casually about death.
Im sorry, he said. I didnt think
She shrugged. Her grandfather had died a month ago, and they had talked for a while about that.
Its okay. I still like you a lot. Ill see you at school tomorrow.
Yes, Ill see you then. Anyway, I really must go now.
Would you like me to come to the bus stop with you?
He shook his head. Opened the door onto the porch.
Dont be silly. Its only twenty yards from your front door.
I like you a lot, said the girl.
And I like you a lot as well, said the boy who was about to die. An awful lot.
She gave him one last hug, and he hurried off down the stairs.
The man who would soon kill somebody couldnt wait to get home.
To his bed or his bath, he wasnt sure which.
Probably both, he decided as he stole a glance at his wristwatch. First a lovely hot bath, then bed. Why say either/or when you could have both? For Gods sake, hed been sitting with these wimps for over four hours now.Four hours! He looked around the table and wondered if anybody else was thinking what he was thinking. Anybody who was as bored as he was.
It didnt seem so. The expression on most faces was jolly and exhilarateddue to some extent to the alcohol, of course; but it was apparent that they enjoyed one anothers company. Six men in their prime, he thought. Successful and prosperous, reasonably so at least, by normal worldly standards. Perhaps Greubner looked a bit on the tired side, worn out; but that was doubtless because his marriage was on the rocks againor maybe problems at work. Or why not both?