by Maj Sjowall
'What is he like?"
'How the devil should I know?" Kollberg said.
'Seriously."
'He seems healthy, calm, strong and dull. He keeps his window open every night. Moves naturally and without trouble, dresses well, doesn't seem nervous. He never seems to be in a hurry but doesn't drag. He ought to smoke a pipe. But doesn't."
'Has he noticed you?"
'I don't think so. Not me, in any case."
They sat quietly for a while watching the snow which came down in large, wet flakes.
'You understand," Kollberg said, "I have a feeling that we could keep on like this right up until he has his vacation next summer. It is a fascinating act, but can the country afford to keep two supposedly capable detectives…"
He stopped in the middle of the sentence.
'Capable, yes, by the way, last night there was a drunk who said "boo" to me while I stood there and watched the apartment. I almost got a heart attack."
"Is it the right guy?"
'He sure looks like it judging from the film."
Martin Beck rocked in his chair.
'Okay, We'll bring him in."
'Now?"
'Yes."
'Who?"
'You. After work. So that he doesn't neglect anything.
Take him up to your office and get the personal information. When you've got that, call me."
'Soft line?"
'Definitely."
It was nine-thirty on December 14. Martin Beck had suffered through the National Police's Christmas party with doughy cake and two glasses of almost alcohol free glögg.
He called the Public Prosecutor in Linköping and Ahlberg in Motala and was surprised to hear them both say: "I'm coming."
They arrived around three o'clock. The Public Prosecutor had come up via Motala. He exchanged a few words with Martin Beck and then went into Hammar's office.
Ahlberg sat in Martin Beck's visitor's chair for two hours but they only exchanged a few remarks of interest. Ahlberg said:
'Do you think it was he?"
'I don't know."
'It must be."
'Yes."
At five minutes after five they heard a knock on the door. It was the Public Prosecutor and Hammar.
'I am convinced that you are right," said the Prosecutor. "Use whatever method you like."
Martin Beck nodded.
'Hi," said Kollberg. "Have you time to come up? Folke Bengtsson, who I've mentioned to you, is here."
Martin Beck put down the receiver and got up. When he got to the doorway he turned around and looked at Ahlberg. Neither of them said anything.
He walked slowly up the stairs. In spite of the thousands of examinations he had conducted, he had a funny, bad feeling in his stomach and in the left part of his chest.
Kollberg had taken off his jacket and stood with his elbows on the desk, calm and jovial. Melander sat with his back to them, tranquilly occupied with his papers.
'This is Folke Bengtsson," said Kollberg, and stood up.
'Beck."
'Bengtsson."
They shook hands. Kollberg put his jacket on.
'Ill run along now. So long."
'So long."
Martin Beck sat down. There was a sheet of paper in
Kollberg's typewriter. He pulled it up a bit and read: "Folke Lennart Bengtsson, Office Manager, Born 6,'8,'1926 in Gustaf Vasa's parish, Stockholm. Unmarried."
He looked at the man. Blue eyes, a rather ordinary face. A few streaks of gray in his hair. No nervousness. In general, nothing special.
'Do you know why we have asked you to come here?"
'As a matter of fact, no."
'It is possible that you can help us with something."
'What would that be?"
Martin Beck looked toward the window and said:
'It's beginning to snow heavily now."
'Yes, it is."
'Where were you during the first week of July last summer? Do you remember?"
'I ought to. I was on vacation then. The company that I am with closes down for four weeks right after midsummer."
'Yes?"
'I was in several different places, two weeks on the West Coast, among others. I usually go fishing when I'm off. At least one week in the winter too."
'How did you get there? By car?"
The man smiled.
'No, I don't have a car. Not even a driver's license. I went on my motor bike."
Martin Beck sat quietly for a second.
'There are worse ways to travel. I had a motor bike too for a few years. What kind do you have?"
'I had a Monark then, but I got a new one this past fall."
'Do you remember how you spent your vacation?"
'Yes, of course. I spent the first week at Mem, that's on the Östogöta coast, right where the Göta Canal begins. Then I went on to Bohuslän."
Martin Beck got up and went over to the water pitcher which stood on top of a file near the door. He looked at Melander. Walked back. He lifted the hood off the tape recorder and plugged in the microphone. The man looked at the apparatus.
'Did you go by boat between Mem and Gothenburg?"
'No, from Söderköping."
'What was the name of the boat?"
'The Diana."
'Which day did you travel?"
'I don't remember exactly. One of the first days in July."
'Did anything special happen during the trip?"
'No, not that I can remember."
'Are you sure? Think about it."
'Yes, that's right The boat had some engine trouble. But that was before I went on board. It had been delayed. Otherwise I wouldn't have made it."
'What did you do when you got to Gothenburg?"
'The boat got in very early in the morning. I went up to a place called Hamburgsund. I had reserved a room there."
'How long did you stay?"
'Two weeks."
'What did you do during those two weeks?"
'Fished as often as I could. The weather was poor."
Martin Beck opened Kollberg's desk drawer and took out the three photographs of Roseanna McGraw.
'Do you recognize this woman?"
The man looked at the pictures, one after the other. His expression didn't change in the slightest.
'Her face looks familiar in some way," he said. "Who is she?"
'She was on board the Diana."
'Yes, I think I remember," the man said indifferently. He looked at the pictures again.
'But I'm not sure. What was her name?"
'Roseanna McGraw. She was an American."
'Now I remember. Yes, that's right. She was on board. I talked with her a few times. As well as I could."
'You haven't seen or heard her name since then?"
'No, actually not. That is to say, not before now."
Martin Beck caught the man's eyes and held them. They were cold and calm and questioning.
'Don't you know that Roseanna McGraw was murdered during that trip?"
A slight shift of expression crossed the man's face.
'No," he said, finally. "No… I really didn't know that."
He wrinkled his forehead.
'Is it true?" he said suddenly.
'It seems very strange that you haven't heard anything about it. To be blunt, I don't believe you."
Martin Beck got the feeling that the man had stopped listening.
'Naturally, now I understand why you have brought me here."
'Did you hear what I just said? It seems very strange that you haven't heard anything about it in spite of everything that's been written about this case. I simply don't believe you."
'If I had known anything about it I certainly would have come in voluntarily."
'Come in voluntarily?"
'Yes, as a witness."
'To what?"
'To say that I had met her. Where was she killed? In Gothenburg?"
'No, on board the boat, in her cabin.
While you were on board."
'That doesn't seem possible."
'Why not?"
'Someone must have noticed it. Every cabin was fully occupied."
'It seems even more impossible that you never heard anything about it. I find that hard to believe."
'Wait, I can explain that. I never read the newspapers."
'There was a lot about this case on the radio, too, and on the television news programs. This photograph was shown on Aktuellt. Several times. Don't you have a television?"
'Yes, of course. But I only look at nature programs and at movies."
Martin Beck sat quietly and stared at the man. After a minute he said:
'Why don't you read the papers?"
'They don't contain anything that interests me. Only politics and… yes, things like you just mentioned, murders and accidents and other miseries."
'Don't you ever read anything?"
'Yes, of course. I read several magazines, about sports, fishing, outdoor life, maybe even a few adventure stories sometimes."
'Which magazines?"
"The Sportsman, just about every issue. All-Sport and Rekord-Magazine, I usually buy them, and Lektyr. I've read that one since I was little. Sometimes I buy some American magazines about sport fishing."
'Do you usually talk about the events of the day with your fellow workers?"
'No, they know me and know that I'm not interested. They talk about things with each other, of course, but I seldom listen. That's actually true."
Martin Beck said nothing.
'I realize that this sounds strange, but I can only repeat that it's true. You have to believe me." "Are you religious?" "No, why do you ask?"
Martin Beck took out a cigarette and offered the man one. "No thank you. I don't smoke." "Do you drink?"
'I like beer. I usually take a glass or two on Saturdays after work. Never anything stronger."
Martin Beck looked at him steadily. The man made no attempt to avoid his glance.
'Well, we found you finally, anyway. That's the main thing."
'Yes. How did you do that, figure out that I was on board, I mean?"
'Oh, it was accidental. Someone recognized you. It's like this: so far you are the only person we have been in contact with who has spoken to this woman. How did you meet her?"
'I think that… now I remember. She happened to be standing next to me and asked me something." "And?"
'I answered. As well as I could. My English isn't that good."
'But you often read American magazines?" "Yes, and that's why I usually take an opportunity to talk with Englishmen and Americans. To practice. It doesn't happen very often. Once a week I usually go to see an American film, it doesn't matter which. And I often look at detective films on the television, although the subject doesn't interest me."
'You spoke with Roseanna McGraw. What did you talk about?" "Well…"
'Try to remember. It could be important." "She talked a bit about herself." "What, for example?"
'Where she lived, but I don't remember what she said." "Could it have been New York?"
'No, she named some state in America. Maybe Nevada. I actually don't remember." "What else?"
'She said that she worked in a library. I remember that very well. And that she had been to the North Cape and in Lapland. That she had seen the midnight sun. She also asked about a number of things."
'Were you together a lot?"
'No, I couldn't say that. I spoke with her three or four times."
'When? During which part of the trip?"
The man didn't answer immediately.
'It must have been the first day. I actually remember that we were together between Berg and Ljungsbro, where the passengers usually get off the boat while the boat is in the locks."
'Do you know the canal area well?"
'Yes, rather well."
'Have you been on it before?"
'Yes, several times. I usually plan to ride part of the way on the boats when it fits in with my vacation plans. There aren't too many of those old boats left and it really is a fine trip."
'How many times?"
'I can't exactly say right away. Maybe if I think about it, but it must have been at least ten times over the years. Different stretches. I only rode the whole way once, from Gothenberg to Stockholm."
'As a deck passenger?"
'Yes, the cabins are booked well in advance. In addition, it's rather expensive to go as a cruise passenger."
'Doesn't it get uncomfortable without a cabin?"
'No, not at all. You can sleep on a sofa in the salon under the deck if you want to. I am actually not terribly fussy about those things."
'So, you met Roseanna McGraw. You remember that you were with her at Ljungsbro. But later in the trip?"
'I think that I spoke with her again on some other occasion, in passing."
'When?"
'I don't actually remember."
'Did you see her during the latter part of the trip?"
'Not that I can remember."
'Did you know where her cabin was?"
No answer.
'Did you hear the question? Where was her cabin?"
'I'm really trying to remember. No, I don't think I ever knew."
'You were never inside her cabin?"
'No. The cabins are usually terribly small and anyway, they are double cabins."
'Always?"
'Well, there are a few singles. But not many. They are quite expensive."
'Do you know if Roseanna McGraw was traveling alone?"
'I haven't thought about it. She didn't say anything about it, as far as I can remember."
'And you never went with her to her cabin?"
'No, actually not."
'At Ljungsbro, what did you talk about there?"
'I remember that I asked her if she wanted to see the church at the Vreta monastery, which is right near there. But she didn't want to. And anyway, I'm not sure that she understood what I meant."
'What else did you talk about?"
'I don't actually remember. Nothing in particular. I don't think we spoke that much. We walked part of the way along the canal. A lot of other people did too."
'Did you see her with anyone else?"
The man sat quietly. He looked toward the window ex-pressionlessly.
'This is a very important question."
'I understand that. I'm trying to remember. She must have spoken with other people while I stood next to her, some other American or Englishman. I don't remember anyone in particular."
Martin Beck got up and walked over to the water pitcher.
'Do you want something to drink?"
'No thank you. I'm not thirsty."
Martin Beck drank a glass of water and walked back, pressed a button under the desk, stopped the tape recorder and took off the tape.
A minute later Melander came in and went to his desk.
'Will you take care of this, please," he said.
Melander took the tape and left.
The man called Folke Bengtsson sat completely straight in his chair and looked at Martin Beck with blue, expressionless eyes.
'As I said before, you are the only person we know who remembers, or will admit that he has talked to her."
'I understand."
'It wasn't possibly you that killed her?"
'No, as a matter of fact, it wasn't. Do you believe that?"
'Someone must have done it."
'I didn't even know that she was dead. And not even what her name was. You surely don't believe that…"
'If I had thought that you would admit it, I wouldn't have asked the question in that tone of voice," said Martin Beck.
'I understand… I think. Were you fooling?"
'No."
The man sat quietly.
'If I told you that we know for a fact that you were inside that woman's cabin, what would you say?"
He didn't answer for about ten seconds.
'That you mus
t be wrong. But you wouldn't say that if you weren't certain, isn't that right?"
Martin Beck said nothing.
'In that case I must have been there without knowing what I was doing."
'Do you usually know what you are doing?"
The man lifted his eyebrow slightly.
'Yes, I usually do," he said.
Then he said, positively:
'I wasn't there."
'You understand," said Martin Beck. "This case is highly confusing."
'Thank God that isn't going on the tape," he thought.
'I understand."
Martin Beck stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it
'Are you married?"
'No."
'Have you a steady relationship with any woman?"
'No. I'm a confirmed bachelor, I'm used to living alone."
'Have you any brothers or sisters?"
'No, I was an only child."
'And grew up with your parents?"
'With my mother. My father died when I was six. I hardly remember him."
'Have you no relationships with women?"
'Naturally, I'm not totally inexperienced. I am going on forty."
Martin Beck looked steadily at him.
'When you need female company do you usually turn to prostitutes?"
'No, never."
'Can you name some women who you have been with for either a longer or shorter period of time?"
'Maybe I can, but I don't choose to."
Martin Beck pulled out the desk drawer a little bit and looked down into it. He rubbed his index finger along his lower lip.
'It would be best if you named someone," he said haltingly.
'The person who I'm thinking of at the moment, with whom my relationship was… most lasting, she… Yes, she's married now and we aren't in contact with one another any more. It would be painful for her."
'It would still be best," said Martin Beck without looking up.