Part 6 (1/2)

On the way out to Rotebro he said, 'You heard about Gunvald, didn't you? That he got hit in the stomach by the President's head?'

Martin Beck had heard and said, 'He was lucky to get away with just that'

Benny Skacke drove for a while in silence, then said, 'I was thinking about Gunvald's clothes. He's always so careful about them and always gets them ruined. He must have gotten absolutely covered with blood.'

'Must have,' said Martin Beck. 'But he got out of it alive, so he's still ahead of the game.'

'Ahead is right!' said Skacke with a snort of laughter.

Benny Skacke was thirty-five and during the last six years had often worked with Martin Beck. He reckoned he had gained all his basic knowledge of criminal work by observing and studying the work of Lennart Kollberg and Martin Beck. He had also noted the special rapport that existed between the two men and had been amazed how easily they read each other's thoughts. He realized that such rapport would never arise between himself and Martin Beck, and he was aware that in Martin Beck's eyes he was a poor subst.i.tute for Kollberg. This insight often made him unsure of himself in Martin Beck's company.

For his part, Martin Beck understood very well how Skacke felt and did his best to encourage him and show that he appreciated his efforts. He had watched Skacke mature during the years he had known him and he knew Skacke worked hard, not only to do well in his career but also to become a really good policeman. He regularly spent his free time building up his physique and practising on the firing range, and he studied constantly - law, sociology and psychology- and he also kept himself well informed on what was happening within the force, both technically and organizationally.

Skacke was also a good driver and had a better knowledge of Stockholm and all its new suburbs than any taxi driver. He had no difficulty finding the address in Rotebro and stopped at the end of the row of parked cars on Tennisvagen.

A few representatives of the press had already, arrived, but at least for the moment they were being held in check by a couple of policemen in civilian clothes who were standing by their cars and talking to them. The photographers immediately recognized Martin Beck and ran up clicking their cameras. The driveway leading to the house and garage was barred, but the policeman on duty let Martin Beck and Skacke through with a polite tip of his cap.

Inside, the house was seething with activity. The men from the crime lab were hard at work, a man squatting in the hall dusting a table lamp on a low chest by the telephone for fingerprints, and the flare of a flashbulb revealing a photographer in another room.

Chief Inspector Parsson came up to Martin Beck and Skacke. 'That was quick,' he said. 'Do you want to look in the bathroom first?'

The man in the bath was not a pretty sight, and neither Martin Beck nor Skacke stayed in there any longer than necessary.

'The doctor just left,' said Parsson. 'He says the man's been dead at least eight and at most fifteen hours. The blow killed him at once, and he thinks the weapon may have been an iron lever or a crowbar, or something like that'

'Who is he?' asked Martin Beck, nodding towards the bathroom.

Parsson sighed. 'Unfortunately someone the evening papers will make a meal of. Walter Petrus, the film director.' 'Oh, Christ,' said Martin Beck.

'Or Valter Petrus Pettersson, film director, as it says in his papers. His clothes, wallet and briefcase were lying in the bedroom.'

The men who had come to collect the body were standing impatiently waiting to get past, and Martin Beck, Parsson and Skacke went into the living room to get out of the way.

'Where's the woman who lives here?' asked Martin Beck. 'And who is she? Don't tell me she's a film star.'

'No, thank G.o.d,' said Parsson. 'She's upstairs. We've got a man talking to her at the moment Her name's Maud Lundin. She's forty-two and works in a beauty salon in Sveavagen.'

'How does she seem?' asked Skacke. 'Is she in shock?'

'Well,' said Parsson, 'she seemed more shaken. I think she's fairly calm now. She can't sleep here tonight, but she says she's got a friend in town who'll put her up until we've finished here.'

'Have you had time to question the neighbours?' asked Martin Beck.

'We've only spoken to the people who live in the houses on either side, and to the neighbour across the road. None of them saw or heard anything unusual, they say. But we'll have to go to the other houses along the road tomorrow. Maybe we'll have to talk to everyone in Rotebro. This is the sort of place where people know each other - their kids go to the same school, they shop at the same shops, and the ones who haven't got cars use the same buses and trains.'

'But this Walter Petrus, does he live here, too?' asked Benny Skacke.

'No,' said Parsson. 'He comes a few times a week and spends the night with Mrs Lundin. He lives with his wife and three children in a house in Djursholm.'

'Has the family been informed?' asked Martin Beck.

'Yes,' said Parsson. 'We were lucky - there was a receipt from a private doctor in the briefcase. We called him and he seems to be their doctor and knows the family well. He offered to tell the family and look after them.'

'Good,' said Martin Beck. 'We'll have to question them tomorrow, too. It's getting a little late now, so all we can do is try to finish up here.'

Parsson looked at his watch. 'Half-past nine,' he said. 'Not that late. But you're right. Maybe we can leave his family in peace for a while.'

Parsson was a tall, thin man with snow-white hair and a freckled complexion, which always looked slightly sunburnt. He gave an aristocratic impression, with his narrow hooked nose, thin lips and small, elegant, deliberate movements.

'I'd like to talk to Maud Lundin for a while,' said Martin Beck. 'You said you have a man upstairs with her. Would it be all right if I went up?'

'Yes, of course,' said Parsson. ”That'll be fine. You're the boss anyway, so do as you please.'

They could hear voices and noises outside and Parsson went into the kitchen to look out of the window. 'Those d.a.m.ned reporters,' he said. 'They're like vultures. I'd better go out and talk to them.' He walked towards the front door with dignified gait and serious face.

'You could look around a little,' said Martin Beck to Skacke.

Skacke nodded, went over to the bookcase and began to study the t.i.tles.

Martin Beck went up the stairs, which led into a large square room with wall-to-wall white carpeting. The furniture consisted of eight bulging armchairs in light-coloured leather in a circle around a huge circular gla.s.s-topped table. There was a very complex, and evidently very expensive stereo setup against one wall and white-painted loudspeakers on shelves in each corner. The ceiling was angled and the view through the large window facing out over the back of the house was rural and peaceful, with the s.h.i.+fting green of the forest beyond the wide field.

There was only one door in the room, and that was closed. Martin Beck could hear the murmur of voices through it He knocked and went in.

Two women were sitting on a double bed with a white faux-fur bedspread. They fell silent and looked up at him as he stood in the doorway.

One of the women was heavily built and considerably taller than the other. She had powerful features, dark eyes, and her hair was parted in the centre and hung straight and glossy down her back. The other woman was slim and slightly angular, with lively brown eyes and very short dark hair.

'Martin' she said. 'Hi! I didn't know you were here.'

Martin Beck was surprised too, and hesitated before answering. 'Hi, sa,' he said. 'I didn't know you were here, either. Parsson said he had a man up. here.'

'Oh,' said sa Torell, 'he calls everyone his men, even if they're women.'

She turned back to the other woman. 'Maud, this is Chief Inspector Beck. He's the head of the National Murder Squad.'

The woman nodded at Martin Beck, who nodded back. He had not really collected himself after the unexpected meeting with sa. Five years earlier he had almost been in love with her.

He had met her eight years ago, when her fiance and his youngest colleague, ke Stenstrom, had been shot dead, together with eight other people.in a bus. sa had mourned ke for a long time and had eventually decided to join the police. She was an a.s.sistant to Parsson in Marsta now.

One summer night in Malmo, five years earlier, Martin Beck and sa had slept together. It had been a good night, and had never been repeated. He was glad now. sa was a sweet girl and their relations.h.i.+p was good and friendly whenever they met on duty, but after Rhea it was impossible for him to have s.e.xual feelings for any other woman. sa was still unmarried, apparently wholly absorbed in her job, and she had become a very skilful policewoman.

'Go down to Parsson, will you,' said Martin Beck. 'He's sure to need you down there.'

sa nodded cheerfully and went As Martin Beck knew how adept sa was, especially at establis.h.i.+ng a relations.h.i.+p with the person she was questioning, he thought he would keep his conversation with Maud Lundin brief.

'I imagine you're upset and tired after what's happened,' he said. 'I won't trouble you for long, but I'd very much like to know what your relations.h.i.+p to Mr Petrus was. How long have you known each other?'

Maud Lundin tucked her hair behind her ears and looked at him steadily. 'For three years,' she said. 'We met at a party and he asked me out to dinner once or twice after that. That was in the spring. In the summer he was going to start filming, and he gave me a job in makeup. We went on meeting.'

'But you aren't working for him now?' asked Martin Beck. 'How long did you work for him?'