“Would you recognize it if you saw it again?” One of those old-fashioned ones with a strap around it.” “Otherwise I wouldn’t have remembered it.” “It was quite a lot of money,” said the young woman. “She knows what it’s all about,” said the man. Wallander thought she was hardly more than twenty years old. The woman who entered the office was quite young. “I’d very much like to speak with the teller who paid out the money to Johannes Lövgren the last time,” he said. The withdrawals were made in January, July, and September. On three occasions in 1989 Johannes Lövgren had withdrawn a total of 78,000 kronor. That’s how much you know about your neighbors, he thought.Īfter about five minutes the man came back from the lobby. He recalled the conversation with Nyström, who had sworn that his neighbor didn’t have any money. So far Lars Herdin’s story seems to check out, he thought. It showed that Johannes Lövgren had almost 700,000 kronor in various mutual funds that the bank administered. Wallander started studying the other document. The bank official rose and left the room. I want to see all activity in this account during 1989.” “How far back can you trace this account?” he asked. Wallander looked up at the man sitting on the other side of the desk. On January 4, Johannes Lövgren had withdrawn 27,000 kronor. On January 1, interest of more than 90,000 kronor had been posted to the account. The balance in that one was 132 kronor and 97 öre. The third account was left over from Lövgren’s days as an active farmer. In the past few days interest had been posted. Neither of the accounts had been touched in a long time. The total amount in these two accounts was 90,000 kronor. Maria Lövgren was a joint signatory on two of them. Johannes Lövgren had four different accounts. Wallander sat down by his desk and went through two full sheets of printouts. “I have all the information in my office,” said the man. Now he had started in on a tirade about the declining price of grain. The farmer was still complaining when they returned to the bank lobby. “It has to be many years since he last opened the box.” “I looked at the visitor register,” the official replied. “Do you know whether he opened the box recently?” “Did anyone else besides Johannes Lövgren have access to his safe-deposit box?” he asked. On the way out of the vault something occurred to him. “Now I’d like to take a look at the accounts he had here at the bank.” “Will that be all?” asked the bank official. Wallander wrote down the number of the title deed and the names on the burial documents. The bank man stood to the side watching him. Some old photographs and a pale envelope with old stamps on it. There were some papers for burial arrangements and some title deeds to the farm in Lenarp. Then he raised the lid and started going through the contents. Wallander unlocked it, pulled out the drawer, and set it on the table. Johannes Lövgren’s box was at the bottom in one corner. They passed through a barred doorway and entered the safe-deposit vault. Wallander realized that he had prepared himself for a visit from the police. With a sigh the man got up from his desk. “The whole point of a safe-deposit box is that it’s protected from inspection by outsiders.” “It can’t be helped,” said Wallander, taking out the documents that Anette Brolin had drawn up. Nothing was holier than ingrained routine. Sweden had turned into a country where people more than anything else seemed to be afraid of being bothered. Wallander was instantly annoyed by the man’s uncooperative attitude.
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