“Mail routines?”
“Yes. What time does the mail delivery arrive? Who takes charge of it? Who distributes it? And so on. .”
Suurna closed his eyes, and Munster had the impression he was about to pass out. Small beads of sweat could be seen on his forehead, and he was holding on tight to the arms of his chair, as if he were in a dentist’s chair or on a roller coaster.
“Mail routines?” said Reinhart again after a while.
“Excuse me,” said Suurna, looking up. “I sometimes get dizzy spells.”
Dizzy spells while sitting down? Munster wondered. Suurna wiped his brow and cleared his throat.
“We have two mail deliveries,” he said. “In the morning and immediately after lunch-one o’clock, half past, or thereabouts. Why do you want to know that?”
“We can’t tell you that for reasons connected with the investigation,” said Munster.
“And we’d like you not to breathe a word about any of this,” said Reinhart. “Can we rely on you? It’s absolutely vital!”
“Yes. . Of course. .”
“Who’s in charge of the mail?”
“Er. . Miss Bellevue or the janitors. It varies. We try to be as flexible as possible with regard to specific duties on the administration side. . ”
“Do you have several janitors?”
“Two.”
“Could you please find out who was in charge of the mail on Tuesday last week. .? Who received it, and who distributed it.”
“The morning or the lunch delivery?”
“Both. We’d like to talk to whoever it was as soon as possible.”
Suurna looked confused.
“You mean. . right now?”
“Yes,” said Reinhart. “If we could summon the janitors and Miss. . er. .”
“Bellevue.”
“Bellevue, yes. If you could ask them to come here right away, we’ll be able to sort this matter out on the spot.”
“I don’t understand why. .” Suurna didn’t finish the sentence. Stood up and went to the intercom on his desk.
“Miss Bellevue, would you mind finding Mattisen and Ferger and bringing them to my office as soon as possible? We want to speak to you as well. As soon as possible, please!”
He stood up and looked at Munster and Reinhart, apparently at a loss. Reinhart took out his pipe and started to fill it.
“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind leaving us alone for a short while,” he said, brushing a few flakes of tobacco onto the carpet.
“If you’ll allow us to use your office as our headquarters. .”
“Of course. .”
Suurna fastened the buttons of his jacket and disappeared through the door.
Munster smiled. Reinhart lit his pipe.
30
Rooth met Bendiksen in the Roman section of the Central Bathhouse. It was Bendiksen’s suggestion: he always spent a few hours of Monday evening in the bathhouse, and after yet another day spent at Majorna, Rooth had nothing against it.
It transpired that Bendiksen lived a life governed by strictly observed regular activities. Being a bachelor of many years’
standing, he adhered to a disciplined regimen as befitted a gentleman of good character. He bathed on Mondays, played bridge on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and attended meetings of the local history society on Wednesdays. He went jogging on the weekend, and socialized with friends; the movies on Fridays, the pub on Saturdays. On Sunday he generally made an excursion, did the cleaning, and finished reading the historical novel he’d taken home the previous Monday from the library, where he’d been working for sixteen years.
He explained all this to Rooth during their first five minutes in the sauna.
When do you manage to fit in a shit? wondered Rooth, who was also a bachelor.
“What did you think of Eva Ringmar?” Rooth asked when they’d progressed as far as the cold bath.
“I know nothing about women,” said Bendiksen, “but I know quite a lot about Greek and Hellenic culture; and I also know my Culbertson, and I can play a decent hand of bridge.”
“Good for you,” said Rooth. “How often did you meet her?”
“Hard to say,” said Bendiksen. “Three or four times, maybe; but only in passing.”
“In passing?”
“Yes, amidst the madding crowd, as you might say. We bumped into each other in town, at the library once. That was about it, really.”
“I thought you were a close friend of Mitter’s?”
“Yes, you could say that. We met at high school, and we’ve been meeting occasionally ever since. Only now and then, I should say.”
“How?”
“What do you mean by ‘how,’ Inspector?”
“What did you do when you met?”
“We sometimes had a glass or two together, and a chat, occasionally something else-I think it’s time to start beating each other with birch twigs now, Inspector.”
“What else did you do, Mr. Bendiksen?”
“Call me Klaus.”
No fear, Rooth thought.
“We made a few trips together-after Janek’s divorce, of course. We did some fishing. What are you getting at?”
The sauna was empty. Empty and scalding hot. Rooth
sighed and slumped down on the lowest bench.
“Nothing special,” he said. “It’s just that we’re looking for a murderer. Who do you think it was that stabbed Mitter to death?”
“The same person as drowned his wife.”
Rooth nodded.
“That’s what we think as well. So you don’t have anything to say that could help to put us on the right track?”
Bendiksen scratched away at his armpits.
“You have to understand that I hardly met the man after he started going with Miss Ringmar. We were both at a meeting of old friends down at Freddy’s one night in June. Seven or eight of us, but I didn’t speak much with Janek. And then we were both at a meeting of the local history club around the beginning of August. . ”
“What was he like then?”
“As ever. But we didn’t have much to say. We exchanged a few ideas about megalithic cultures, if I remember rightly.
That was the theme for the evening.”
“So you didn’t meet very much after Eva Ringmar entered the stage. Why was that?”
“Why? Well, I suppose that’s the way it goes.”
“Meaning what?”
“With women. You should have friends, or a woman,
