Roseanna

He passed the Bore H which was tied up at the pier loading freight and stood on the curb directly across from the Hotel Reisen. It took a few minutes before he managed to break through the unending line of automobiles and get across the street.

The passenger list for the Diana's trip on July 3 was not in the canal boat's shipping office. It was in the Gothenburg office but they had promised to send it as soon as possible. However, a list of the crew and other personnel was given to him immediately. When he left, he took a few brochures with him which he read on the way back to the office.

Melander was already sitting in his visitor's chair when he arrived.

'Hi there,' Martin Beck said.

'Good morning,' said Melander.

'That pipe smells dreadful. But by all means sit here and poison the air. You are most welcome. Or was there something special you wanted?'

'You don't get cancer as quickly if you smoke a pipe. Your brand of cigarettes are said to be the most dangerous, by the way. At least that's what I've heard. Otherwise, I'm on duty.'

'Check with American Express, the Post Office, banks, the telephone company, other contacts, you understand, don't you?'

'I believe so. What was the woman's name again?'

Martin Beck wrote the name on a piece of paper, ROSEANNA MCGRAW, and gave it to Melander.

'How do you pronounce it?'

He left and Martin Beck opened the window. It was chilly -and the wind blew through the tree tops and swept up the leaves on the ground. After a while he shut the window again, hung his jacket over the back of his chair and sat down.

He picked up the telephone and dialed the number of the National Office for Aliens. If she had registered at a hotel she ought to be on file there. Some record of her ought to be there in any event. He had to wait a long time before anyone answered and then it took ten minutes before the girl came back to the phone. She had found the card. Roseanna McGraw had stayed at the Hotel Gillet in Stockholm from June 30 until July 2.

'Please send me a photocopy,' said Martin Beck.

He pressed down the buttons on the telephone and waited for the disconnected signal with the receiver still in his hand. Then he telephoned for a taxi and put on his jacket. Ten minutes later he got out of the taxi, paid the driver, and entered the hotel through its glass doors.

In front of the reception desk stood a group of six men. They had name tags on their lapels and were all talking at the same time. The desk clerk looked unhappy and threw up his arms in a complaining gesture. It looked as if the discussion would take some time, so Martin Beck sat down in one of the armchairs in the lobby.

He waited until the discussion was over and let the group disappear into the elevator before he went up to the desk.

The desk clerk looked stoically through the register until he found the name. He turned the book toward Martin Beck so that he could read it. She had printed with attractive, even letters. Place of Birth: Denver, Col. USA. Home Address: Lincoln, Nebr. Last Place Visited: Nebr. USA.

Martin Beck checked the guests who had registered on June 30 and the days immediately preceding and following. Above Roseanna McGraw's name were the names of no less than eight Americans. All except the two names on top of the list had given some place in the U.S.A. as their last place visited. The first one had written Phyllis with the rest of the name illegible. She had written North Cape, Sweden, as the last place visited. The person who had registered just beneath her had written North Cape, Norway, in the same column.

'Was it a group tour?' asked Martin Beck.

'Let's see,' said the desk clerk and turned his head to look. 'No, I don't really remember, but it is very likely. We sometimes have American groups here. They arrive with the'dollar train' from Narvik.'

Martin Beck showed the man a photograph but he shook his head in reply.

'No, I'm sorry, we have so many guests here…'

No one had recognized her but the trip to the hotel had some results. Now he knew where she had stayed, he had seen her name in the register and had even looked at the room she had stayed in. She had left the hotel on July 2.

'And then? Where did you go?' he said quietly to himself.

His temples were throbbing and his throat hurt. He wondered how much fever he had, and went back to the office.

She could have traveled with the canal boat and gone on board the night before it left Stockholm. He had read in the brochure from the shipping office that passengers could go on board the night before the boat left. He was more and more convinced that she had been on the Diana in spite of the fact that there was still no evidence of it

He wondered where Melander was and reached for the telephone. Just as he was about to dial the number he heard a distinct pecking at the door.

Melander stood in the doorway.

'No,' he said. 'Neither American Express nor any other such place knows anything about her. I'll go and get something to eat now if you don't mind.'

He had no objection and Melander disappeared.

He telephoned Motala but Ahlberg wasn't in.

His headache was getting worse. After looking for some headache pills for a while he went up to Kollberg's office to borrow a few. Just inside the door he started coughing so badly that he couldn't say anything for a long tune.

Kollberg cocked his head and looked at him worriedly.

'You sound worse than eighteen Ladies of the Camelias. Come here and let the doctor look at you.'

He looked at Martin Beck through his magnifying glass.

'If you don't listen to the doctor you won't have much time left. Go home and creep into bed and drink a real large glass of toddy. Preferably three of them. Rum toddies. That's the only thing that will help. Then go to sleep and you'll wake up like new.'

'What do you think it is? And, by the way, I don't like rum,' said Martin Beck.

'Take cognac then. Don't worry about Kafka. If he calls, I'll take care of him. My English is excellent.'

'He won't call. Do you have any headache pills?'

'No, but you can have a chocolate praline.'

Martin Beck returned to his office. The air in the room was thick and smoky but he didn't want to open the window and let the cold air in.

Ahlberg still wasn't there when he telephoned a half hour later. He took out the list of the Diana's crew. It contained eighteen names and addresses from different parts of the country. Six of them were in Stockholm and there were two names without an address. Two of them lived in Motala.

At four-thirty he decided to take Kollberg's advice. He cleaned off his desk and put his hat and coat on.

On the way home he stopped at a pharmacy and bought a box of pills.

He found a drop of cognac in the pantry, poured it into a cup of bouillon, and took the cup with him into the bedroom. By the tune his wife had come in with a heat lamp he was already asleep.

He awoke early the next morning but stayed in bed until a quarter to eight. Then he got up and got dressed. He felt a great deal better and his headache had disappeared.

On the dot of nine he opened the door to his office. An envelope with a red special delivery sticker lay on his desk. He opened it up with his index finger without taking the time to take off his overcoat

The envelope contained a passenger list

His eyes caught her name immediately.

McGraw, R., Miss, USA: Single cabin A 7.

10

'I knew that I was right,' Ahlberg said. 'I had a feeling. How many passengers were there on the boat?'

'According to the list there were sixty-eight,' said Martin Beck and filled in the number on the paper in front of him with a pen.