Roseanna Read online

  Kollberg yawned again. Ahlberg looked desperately unhappy.

  Martin Beck finally ventured a look at the people in the room. He knew three of the journalists, they were older and came from Stockholm. He also recognized a few others. Most of them seemed very young.

  ‘In addition, gentlemen, the collected information that we do have is at your disposal,’ said the Public Prosecutor and sat down.

  With that he had clearly said his piece. In the beginning Larsson answered the questions. Most of them were asked by three young reporters who followed each other's questions in rapid order. Martin Beck noted that a number of newspapermen sat quietly and didn't take any notes. Their attitude towards the lack of real leads in the case seemed to show compassion and understanding. The photographers yawned. The room was already thick with cigarette smoke.

  QUESTION: Why hasn't there been a real press conference before this one?

  ANSWER: There haven't been many leads in this case. In addition, there are certain important facts in this case that could not be made public without hindering its solution.

  QUESTION: Is an arrest immediately forthcoming?

  ANSWER: It is conceivable, but from the present standpoint we cannot give you a definite answer, unfortunately.

  QUESTION: Do you have any real clues in this case?

  ANSWER: All we can say is that our investigations are following certain distinct lines.

  (After this amazing series of half truths the Chief of Police threw a sorrowful look at the Public Prosecutor who stubbornly examined his cuticles.)

  QUESTION: Criticism has been directed towards several of my colleagues. Is it the opinion of those in charge of the case that these colleagues have more or less intentionally twisted the facts?

  (This question was asked by the notoriously well-known reporter whose article had made such a deep impression on Kollberg.)

  ANSWER: Yes, unfortunately.

  QUESTION: Isn't it more a case of the police leaving us reporters out in the cold and not giving us useful information? And deliberately leaving us to our own devices to find out whatever we can in the field?

  ANSWER: Hmm.

  (Several of the less talkative journalists began to show signs of displeasure.)

  QUESTION: Have you identified the corpse?

  (Superintendent Larsson, with a quick glance, threw the ball over to Ahlberg, sat down, and demonstratively took a cigar out of his breast pocket.)

  ANSWER: No.

  QUESTION: Is it possible that she is from this city or somewhere around here?

  ANSWER: It doesn't seem likely.

  QUESTION: Why not?

  ANSWER: If that were the case we would have been able to identify her.

  QUESTION: Is that your only reason for suspecting that she comes from another part of the country?

  (Ahlberg looked dismally at the Chief of Police who was devoting all his attention to his cigar.)

  ANSWER: Yes.

  QUESTION: Has the search of the bottom near the breakwater produced any results?

  ANSWER: We have found a number of things.

  QUESTION: Do these things have anything to do with the crime?

  ANSWER: That is not easy to answer.

  QUESTION: How old was she?

  ANSWER: Presumably between twenty-five and thirty.

  QUESTION: Exactly how long had she been dead when she was found?

  ANSWER: That isn't easy to answer, either. Between three and four days.

  QUESTION: The information that has been given to the public is very vague. Isn't it possible to tell us something more exact, information which really says something?

  ANSWER: That's what we are trying to do here. We have also retouched a picture of her face which you are welcome to, if you want to have it.

  (Ahlberg reached for a group of papers on the desk and started to hand them out. The air in the room was heavy and humid.)

  QUESTION: Did she have any particular marks on her body?

  ANSWER: Not as far as we know.

  QUESTION: What does that mean?

  ANSWER: Simply, that she had no marks at all.

  QUESTION: Has a dental examination given any special clues?

  ANSWER: She had good teeth.

  (A long and pressing pause followed. Martin Beck noted that the reporter in front of him was still doodling with the star he had drawn.)

  QUESTION: Is it possible that the body was thrown into the water at some other place and that it was brought to the breakwater by the current?

  ANSWER: It doesn't seem likely.

  QUESTION: Have you learned anything by knocking on doors?

  ANSWER: We are still working on that.

  QUESTION: To sum up, isn't it true that the police have a complete mystery on their hands?

  It was the Public Prosecutor that answered:

  ‘Most crimes are a mystery in the beginning.’

  With that, the press conference ended.

  On the way out, one of the older reporters stopped Martin Beck, laid his hand on his arm and said: ‘Don't you know anything at all?’ Martin Beck shook his head.

  In Ahlberg's office two men were going through all the material they had gathered from the operation of knocking on doors.

  Kollberg walked over to the desk, looked at several of the papers, and shrugged his shoulders.

  Ahlberg came in. He took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. Then he turned to Martin Beck and said: ‘The Public Prosecutor wants to talk to you. He is still in the other room.’

  The Prosecutor and the Police Superintendent were still sitting behind the table.

  ‘Beck,’ said the Prosecutor, ‘I don't see that your presence is necessary here any longer. There simply is not enough work for the three of you.’

  ‘That's true.’

  ‘In general I think that a lot of what is left to do can be done conveniently somewhere else.’

  ‘That is possible.’

  ‘To put it simply, I don't want to detain you here, especially if your presence is more motivated in another direction.’

  ‘That is also my point of view,’ the Chief of Police added.

  ‘Mine also,’ said Martin Beck.

  They shook hands.

  In Ahlberg's office it was still very quiet. Martin Beck did not break that silence.

  After a while Melander came in. He hung up his hat and nodded to the others. Then he went over to the desk, sat down at Ahlberg's typewriter, put some paper in it and knocked out a few lines. He pulled the paper out of the typewriter, signed it, and placed it in the folder on the desk.

  ‘Was that anything?’ asked Ahlberg.

  ‘No,’ said Melander.

  He hadn't changed his manner since he had come in.

  ‘We are going home tomorrow,’ Martin Beck said.

  ‘Great,’ said Kollberg and yawned.

  Martin Beck took a step towards the door and then turned and looked at the man at the typewriter.

  ‘Are you coming along to the hotel?’ he asked.

  Ahlberg put his head back and looked at the ceiling. Then he got up and began to straighten his tie.

  In the hotel lobby they separated from Melander.

  ‘I've already eaten,’ he said. ‘Good night.’

  Melander was a clean-living man. In addition he was economical with his expense account and subsisted mainly on hot dogs and soft drinks when he was out on a job.

  The other three went into the dining room and sat down.

  ‘A gin and tonic,’ said Kollberg. ‘Schweppes.’

  The others ordered beef, aquavit and beer. Kollberg took his drink and finished it in three swallows. Martin Beck took out a copy of the material which had been given to the reporters and read through it.

  ‘Will you do me a favour,’ said Martin Beck looking at Kollberg.

  ‘Always ready to,’ answered Kollberg.

  ‘I want you to write a new description, write it for me personally. Not a report but a real descri
ption. Not a description of a corpse but of a human being. Details. How she might have looked when she was alive. There's no hurry about it.’

  Kollberg sat quietly for a while.

  ‘I understand what you mean,’ he said. ‘By the way, our friend Ahlberg supplied the world press with an untruth today. She actually did have a birthmark, on the inside of her left thigh. Brown. It looked like a pig.’

  ‘We didn't see it,’ said Ahlberg.

  ‘I saw it,’ Kollberg said.

  Before he left he said:

  ‘Don't worry about it. No one can see everything. Anyway, it's your murder now. Forget that you've seen me. It was only an illusion. So long.’

  ‘So long,’ said Ahlberg.

  They ate and drank silently. A lot later and without looking up from his drink, Ahlberg said:

  ‘Are you planning to let this one go now?’

  ‘No,’ replied Martin Beck.

  ‘I'm not either,’ said Ahlberg. ‘Never.’

  Half an hour later they separated.

  When Martin Beck went up to his room he found some folded papers under his door. He opened them and immediately recognized Kollberg's orderly, easy-to-read, handwriting. Because he had known Kollberg well for a long time he wasn't at all surprised.

  He undressed, washed the top of his body in cold water and put on his pyjamas. Then he put his shoes out in the corridor, laid his trousers under the mattress, turned on the night table lamp, turned off the ceiling light and got into bed.

  Kollberg had written:

  The following can be said about the woman who is occupying your thoughts:

  She was (as you already know) 5 feet, 6 1 2 inches tall, had grey-blue eyes and dark brown hair. Her teeth were good and she had no scars from operations or other marks on her body with the exception of a birthmark, high up on the inside of her left thigh about an inch and a half from her groin. It was brown and about as large as a dime, but uneven and looked like a little pig. She was, according to the man who performed the autopsy (and I had to press him to tell me this on the telephone), 27 or 28 years old. She weighed about 123 pounds.

  She was built in the following manner: Small shoulders and a very small waist, broad hips and a well developed rear end. Her measurements ought to have been approximately: 32-23-37. Thighs: heavy and long. Legs: muscular with relatively heavy calves but not fat. Her feet were in good condition with long, straight toes. No corns but heavy calluses on the soles of her feet, as if she had gone barefoot a lot and worn sandals or rubber boots a great deal of the time. She had a lot of hair on her legs, and must have been bare-legged most of the time. Condition of her legs: some defects. She was somewhat knock-kneed and seems to have walked with her toes pointed outward. She had a good deal of flesh on her body but was not fat. Slender arms. Small hands but long fingers. Shoe size was 7.

  The suntan on her body showed: she had sunbathed in a two-piece bathing suit and worn sunglasses. She had worn thong sandals on her feet.

  Her sex organ was well developed with a heavy growth of dark hair. Her breasts were small and slack. The nipples were large and dark brown.

  Rather short neck. Strong features. A large mouth with full lips. Straight, thick, dark eyebrows and lighter eyelashes. Not long. Straight, short nose which was rather broad. No traces of cosmetics on her face. Fingernails and toenails hard and clipped short. No traces of nail polish.

  In the record of the autopsy (which you have read) I place special attention on the following: She had not had a child and had never had an abortion. The murder had not been committed in connection with any conventional act (no trace of sperm). She had eaten three to five hours before she died: meat, potatoes, strawberries and milk. No traces of sickness or any organic changes. She did not smoke.

  I've left a call to be awakened at six o'clock. So long.

  Martin Beck read through Kollberg's observations twice before he folded the papers and laid them on his night table. Then he turned off the light and rolled over towards the wall.

  It had begun to get light before he fell asleep.

  6

  The heat was already trembling over the asphalt when they drove away from Motala. It was early in the morning and the road lay flat and empty ahead of them. Kollberg and Melander sat in the front and Martin Beck sat in the back seat with the window down and let the breeze blow on his face. He didn't feel well and it was probably due to the coffee that he had gulped down while he was getting dressed.

  ‘Kollberg was driving, poorly and unevenly,’ Martin Beck thought, but for once he remained silent. Melander looked blankly out the window and bit hard on the stem of his pipe.

  After they had driven silently for about three-quarters of an hour Kollberg nodded his head to the left where a lake could be seen between the trees.

  ‘Lake Roxen,’ he said. ‘Boren, Roxen and Glan. Believe it or not that's one of the few things I remember from school.’

  The others said nothing.

  They stopped at a coffee house in Linköping. Martin Beck still didn't feel well and remained in the car while the others had something to eat.

  The food had put Melander in a better mood and the two men in the front seat exchanged remarks during the rest of the trip. Martin Beck still remained silent. He didn't want to talk.

  When they reached Stockholm he went directly home. His wife was sitting on the balcony sunbathing. She had shorts on and when she heard the front door open she took her brassiere from the balcony railing and got up.

  ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Terrible. Where are the children?’

  ‘They took their bikes and went off to swim. You look pale. You haven't eaten properly of course. I'll fix some breakfast for you.’

  ‘I'm tired,’ said Martin Beck. ‘I don't want anything to eat.’

  ‘But it will be ready in a second. Sit down and …’

  ‘I don't want any breakfast. I think I'll sleep for a while. Wake me up in an hour.’

  It was a quarter past ten.

  He went into the bedroom and closed the door after him.

  When she awakened him he thought he had only slept for a few minutes.

  The clock showed that it was a quarter to one.

  ‘I told you one hour.’

  ‘You looked so tired. Commissioner Hammar is on the telephone.’

  ‘Oh, damn.’

  An hour later he was sitting in his chief's office.

  ‘Didn't you get anywhere?’

  ‘No. We don't know a thing. We don't know who she was, where she was murdered, and least of all by whom. We know approximately how and where but that's all.’

  Hammar sat with the palms of his hands on the top of the desk, and studied his fingernails and wrinkled his forehead. He was a good man to work for, calm, almost a little slow, and they always got along well together.

  Commissioner Hammar folded his hands and looked up at Martin Beck.

  ‘Keep in contact with Motala. You are most probably right. The girl was on vacation, thought to be away, maybe even out of the country. It might take two weeks at least before anyone misses her. If we count on a three week vacation. But I would like to see your report as soon as possible.’

  ‘You'll get it this afternoon.’

  Martin Beck went into his office, took the cover off his typewriter, thumbed through the papers he had received from Ahlberg, and began to type.

  At five-thirty the telephone rang.

  ‘Are you coming home to dinner?’

  ‘It doesn't seem so.’

  ‘Aren't there any other policemen but you?’ said his wife. ‘Do you have to do everything? When do they think you'll see your family? The children are asking for you.’

  ‘I'll try to get home by six-thirty.’

  An hour and a half later his report was finished.

  ‘Go home and get some sleep,’ said Hammar. ‘You look tired.’

  Martin Beck was tired. He took a taxi home, ate dinner and went to bed.

 
; He fell asleep immediately.

  At one-thirty in the morning the telephone awakened him.

  ‘Were you asleep? I'm sorry that I woke you up. I only wanted to tell you that the case has been solved. He turned himself in.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Holm, the neighbour. Her husband. He collapsed, totally. It was jealousy. Funny, isn't it?’

  ‘Whose neighbour? Who are you talking about?’

  ‘The dame in Storängen, naturally. I only wanted to tell you so that you wouldn't lie awake and think about it unnecessarily … Oh, God, have I made a mistake?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Damn it, of course. You weren't there. It was Stenström. I'm sorry. I'll see you in the morning.’