The Man on the Balcony

and her guy, the ones who were petting. And…'

'Yes?'

'I saw another one. He came from the other direction.'

'A bum too, as you call it?'

'Well, it wasn't anyone worth noticing anyway, not as far as I was concerned. He came from up by the water tower. I remember quite plainly now, I remember thinking he must have come up the steps from Ingemarsgatan. Hell of a steep pull, climbing up that way and then just going down again.'

'Down again?'

'Yes. He went out into Sveavagen.'

'When did you see him?'

'Soon after the man with the dog had gone.'

There was silence in the room. It dawned on them one by one what Lundgren had just said.

It dawned on Lundgren himself last of all. Raising his eyes, he looked Gunvald Larsson straight in the face.

'Christ, yes!'

Martin Beck felt a nerve tingle somewhere in his system. And Gunvald Larsson said:

'To sum up, we can say this: An elderly, well-dressed man with a dog entered Vanadis Park from Sveavagen some time between seven fifteen and seven thirty. He walked past the candy stand and the playground, where the girl still was. The man with the dog stayed for about ten minutes, fifteen at the most, in that part of the park that lies between Stefan's Church and Frejgatan. You shadowed him the whole time. When he came back and went out of the park, again past the candy stand and the playground, the girl was no longer in the playground. A few minutes later a man appeared from the direction of the water tower and went out into Sveavagen. You presumed that he had come from Ingemarsgatan and climbed the steps behind the water tower and then came down through the park in the direction of Sveavagen. But this man could just as well have come from the direction of Sveavagen a quarter of an hour earlier, while you were shadowing the man with the dog.'

'Yes,' Lundgren said, gaping.

'He could have passed the playground and lured the girl with him up to the water tower. He could have killed her there and thus been on the way back when you saw him.'

'Yes,' Lundgren said, gaping wider.

'Did you see which way he went?' Martin Beck asked.

'No, all I thought was he'd left the park and that was that.'

'Did you see him at close quarters?'

'Yes, he went right past me. I was standing behind the candy stand.'

'Good, let's have his description,' Gunvald Larsson said. 'What did he look like?'

'He wasn't very tall, not small either. Rather shabby. He had a big nose.'

'How was he dressed?'

'Shabbily. Light-colored shirt, white I should think. No tie. Dark trousers, gray or brown, I think.'

'And his hair?'

'A bit thin. Brushed straight back.'

'Hadn't he a coat?' Ronn put in.

'No. Neither jacket nor overcoat.'

'Color of eyes?'

'What?'

'Did you see the color of his eyes?'

'No. Blue, I imagine. Or gray. He was that type. Fair.'

'How old could he have been?'

'Oh, between forty and fifty. Nearer forty, I should think.'

'And his shoes,' Ronn said.

'Don't know. Though probably those ordinary black shoes that bums usually have. But that's only a guess.'

Summing up, Gunvald Larsson said:

'A man aged about forty, normal build, average height, with thin hair brushed back and big nose. Blue or gray eyes. White or light-colored shirt, unbuttoned. Brown or dark-gray trousers, probably black shoes.'

Martin Beck was vaguely reminded of something, but the thought vanished as soon as it came. Larsson went on:

'Presumably black shoes, oval face… Good. Only one thing more. You're to look at some pictures. Bring the vice squad's album.'

Rolf Evert Lundgren looked through the pages of photographs of known sexual perverts. He examined each picture carefully and shook his head each time.

He could find nobody resembling the man he had seen in Vanadis Park.

Moreover, he was quite sure that the man he had seen was not among the photographs in the register.

It was already midnight when Gunvald Larsson said:

'Now well see that you get something to eat and then you can sleep. See you tomorrow. That's all for today.'

He seemed almost jaunty.

The last thing the mugger said before being led away was:

'Just think, I saw the bastard!'

He too seemed almost jaunty.

Yet he himself had been very near to killing several people, and as recently as twelve hours earlier he had been ready to shoot down both Martin Beck and Gunvald Larsson, if only he had had the chance.

Martin Beck pondered this.

He also reflected that they had a description—and a poor one at that—which fitted many thousands of people. Still, it was something.

And the hunt entered its seventh day.

There was something else at the back of Martin Beck's mind, but he didn't know what it was.

He had coffee with Ronn and Gunvald Larsson before they went home.

They exchanged some concluding remarks.

'Do you think it took a long time?' Gunvald Larsson asked.

'Yes,' Martin Beck said.

'Yes, I did,' Ronn agreed.

'Well, you see,' Gunvald Larsson said pompously, 'you have to go carefully and start at the beginning. Establish a confidential relationship.'

'Yes,' Ronn said.

'Frankly, I thought it took a hell of a long time all the same,' Martin Beck said.

Then he drove home. Had another cup of coffee and went to bed.

Lay awake in the dark, thinking.

Of something.

17

MARTIN BECK felt anything but rested when he awoke on Friday morning. In fact he felt more tired than he had done when, after far too many cups of coffee, he had at last got to sleep late the night before. He had slept fitfully, tossing and turning, and had had one nightmare after the other. He woke up with a dull ache in his midriff.

At breakfast he had a violent quarrel with his wife about something so trivial that he had already forgotten the cause of it when he closed the front door behind him five minutes later. Anyway, his part in the quarrel had been somewhat passive; his wife had been the one to take the offensive.

Tired, dissatisfied with himself, his eyelids smarting, he took the subway to Slussen, changed trains and went on to Midsommarkransen to pay a short visit to his office in Vastberga Alle. He disliked using the subway, and