THE CONVENTION

"It was an honest mistake. Please, I didn't mean anything by it."

The terror in his voice was unmistakable. Desperation overrode the searing pain. He had to reason with her.

"Please, I was wrong - he really is the greatest."

Her face was dispassionate, devoid of emotion as she advanced. The blade dripped evidence of blood already taken. It was thirsty for more.

He thrashed on the bed, fighting the restraints binding hands and feet. It was pointless, the handcuffs and chains too strong and well secured. The struggling was, this time, mercifully short.

---

Inspector Landesman purposefully steered his Volvo through the deserted city centre. The crime scene was at the International Hotel. A mobile phone perched on the passenger seat demanded his attention. He was still talking to the member of staff at his father's care home when he located room 4119.

Landesman had listened politely as he was told how the old man had become increasingly upset prior to going missing. Fortunately, an alert police officer had noticed him in a bus shelter dressed in pyjamas and slippers. He had been returned to the home cold but otherwise unharmed. Landesman thanked the nurse and promised to visit the following morning.

---

The body had lain on the bed since its discovery. It was surrounded by a scene of muted chaos as forensics officers and detectives milled around. Landesman stood just inside the hotel room door quietly taking in the tableau.

Even though he was several feet away the cause of death seemed obvious. The man was naked. All four limbs, his torso and genitalia were criss-crossed with short new incisions. None, however, had the appearance of being fatal. It was the gaping throat wound that probably caused the denouement. The angle of the head to the torso made it look partially decapitated.

The Force Medical Examiner was close to the body when Landesman entered the room. Noticing the Inspector he went over.

"Landesman."

"Doctor Anders."

Inspector Landesman tilted his head slightly.

"What have we got, Doctor?"

"The evidence suggests he was tortured before he died. He was probably conscious until just before the fatal cut. I speculate that he was lured here and allowed himself to be manacled to the bed. Once the cutting started it seems he fought against the restraints. The blood loss, initially, was minimal. However, when the jugular was slashed the bleeding would have been profuse, leading swiftly to loss of consciousness and death. The perpetrator, I suspect, exercised some control over the level of pain to keep the victim aware of what was happening. When the decision to dispatch was taken it was executed with surgical precision."

---

Sergeant Croughton accompanied Landesman as they descended to the hotel reception.

"Did you notice they are hosting a convention?" asked Croughton.

"Yes, what’s it for?"

"It’s the Henning Mankell Fan Club. Looks like their big annual shindig."

"Henning who?" enquired Landesman.

"Inspector, please don't tell me you've never heard of Mankell. The author. You know - the detective, Kurt Wallander. I'm a great fan myself. Mind you, I could never be as obsessive as some of the people staying here."

Landesman shook his head slightly. The conversation was interrupted by the chirping of the Inspector's mobile again.

This time it was his daughter.

"Dad, I've just heard about Granddad."

"Yes."

"You know why he's run off again don't you?"

"Go on."

"It's you. If you would just make time to see him he would be more settled. You leave it for so long, he gets agitated and goes walkabout. God, you just haven't coped with anything since Mum left."

"Charlotte, cut me some slack. I haven't been well. Look, I've told the care home I'll visit tomorrow. I really will. Now, I've got to go. I'm on a case."

"That's right, Dad. Put the dead before the living once more."

The call was terminated.

---

At the reception desk Landesman and Croughton quickly established that 4119 had been allocated to Dr Rosanne Gainsbourg. The booking had been made through the Henning Mankell Fan Club.

Staff and guests were interviewed methodically over the next few hours. Eventually, Landesman was invited into the manager's office where Croughton had been questioning a bartender.

"You might want to hear this," said Croughton.

The bartender recounted how a woman matching the doctor's description had been in the hotel lounge. Initially, she had been alone but later she was joined by a man. The bartender said he heard the man say words to the effect that he thought Mankell was overrated. He noticed this because the woman’s reaction had been angry. The bartender had thought the scene was going to turn ugly. However, the woman appeared to calm down. A little later the barman had noticed them leaving the lounge hand-in-hand.

---

On exiting the hotel Landesman was dazzled by the lights of the television crews. He blanked the reporters and ignored the shouted questions.

Landesman finally got back to his flat at 3.30am. He sat alone. Two amitryptiline tablets were helped down by a large glass of red wine.

Dr Rosanne Gainsbourg. The name was familiar. Landesman couldn't think why.

---

4.25am. Landesman was slumped in the chair where he had fallen asleep. The mobile phone woke him. A woman spoke first.

"Inspector Landesman?"

Semi-comatose, Landesman struggled to respond.

"Yes."

"I am sorry it is so early. I want to talk to you about your father urgently."

"Sorry, but who is this?"

"It’s the Director. The Director of your father's care home. Dr Gainsbourg, Inspector. I want to talk to you about your father and arrangements for my safe passage out of the country."

Landesman was wide awake.