Martinsson wade out into the water

Martinsson wade out into the water to pull the life raff ashore, wearing gumboots. Wallender squatted down to examine the bodies. He could see Peters trying to calm the woman. It struck him how fortunate they were that the boat hadn’t come ashore in the summer, when there would have been hundreds of children playing and swimming on the beach. What he was looking at was not a pretty sight, and there was the unmistakable stench of rotting flesh despite the fierce wind.
He took a pair of rubber gloves from his jacket and searched the men’s pockets carefully. He found nothing at all. When he opened the jacket of one of the men he could see a liver-coloured stain on the chest of the white shirt.
He looked at Martinsson.
“This is no accident,” he said. “It’s murder. This man has been shot straight through the heart.”
He stood up and moved to one side so that Norén could photograph the life raft.
“What do you reckon?” he asked Martinsson. Martinsson shook his head.
“I don’t know”
Wallender walked slowly round the boat without taking his eyes off the two dead men. Both were fair haired, probably in their early 30s. Judging by their hands and clothes, they were not manual labourers. Who were they? Why was there nothing in their pockets? He continued walking round and round the boat . occasionally exchanging a few words with Martinsson. After half an hour he decided that here was nothing more for him to discover. By then the forensic team had begun their methodical examination. A plastic tent had been put up over the rubber boat. Norén had finished taking photographs, everybody was bitterly cold and couldn’t wait to get away.
It was several hours before Wallander was able to give the ambulance men the nod, and they moved forward with their stretchers. By then , Wallander was so cold that he couldn’t stop shivering. They had no choice but to break a few bones to release the men from their embrace. When the bodies had been removed. Wallander gave the boat another thorough investigation, but found nothing , not even a paddle. He gazed out to sea, as if the solution was to be found somewhere on the horizon.
From the book ‘The dogs of Riga’ By Henning Mankell