Roseanna

'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 must 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.

'I don't want to bring her any unpleasantness.'

'It won't be unpleasant for her. What's her name?'

'If you can guarantee… her married name is Siv Lindberg. But I ask you really…'

'Where does she live?'

'Lidingo. Her husband is an engineer. I don't know the address. Somewhere in Bodal I think.'

Martin Beck took a last glance at the picture of the woman from Lincoln. Then he closed the drawer again and said:

'Thank you. I am sorry that I have to ask these kinds of questions. But, unfortunately, it's part of my job.'

Melander came in and sat down at his desk.

'Would you mind waiting a few minutes,' Martin Beck said.

In the room one flight below, the tape recorder played back the last replies. Martin Beck stood with his back against the wall and listened.

'Do you want something to drink?' '?

'No thank you. I'm not thirsty.'

The Public Prosecutor was the first person to say something. . 'Well?'

'Let him go.'

The Public Prosecutor looked at the ceiling, Kollberg at the floor, and Ahlberg at Martin Beck.

'You didn't press him very hard,' said the Prosecutor. 'That wasn't a very long examination.'

'No.'

'And if we hold him?' asked the Prosecutor.

'Then we have to let him go by this time on Thursday,' Hammar replied.

'We don't know anything about that'

'No,' said Hammar.

'All right,' said the Prosecutor.

Martin Beck nodded. He walked out of the room and up the stairs and he still felt ill and had some discomfort