wanted to report a man who had been standing on a balcony in the apartment house opposite. Gunvald Larsson had asked her to describe the man and he had repeated the description in almost exactly the same words as Lundgren used when he was interrogated later. Also, the woman had said that the man kept watching children who were playing in the street.
Martin Beck folded up the paper and stared out of the window, trying to recall what had been said and done that morning. He knew on which day the conversation had taken place, for soon afterwards he had driven down to the Central Station and taken the train to Motala. It was Friday, June 2, exactly a week before the murder in Vanadis Park.
He tried to remember whether the woman on the phone had given her address. Probably she had, and in that case Gunvald Larsson must have written it down somewhere.
As the train approached the city center Martin Beck regarded this bright idea of his with waning enthusiasm. The description was so defective that it could fit thousands of people. The fact that Gunvald Larsson had used the same wording on two entirely different occasions need not mean that it referred to the same person. The fact that a man stands on his balcony at all times of the day and night need not mean that he is a presumptive murderer. The fact that Martin Beck on previous occasions had had a flash of intuition which had turned out to provide the solution to difficult cases need not mean that it would do so this time.
Still, it was worth looking into.
Usually he got off at T-Centralen and walked over the Klaraberg viaduct to Kungsholmsgatan, but today he took a taxi.
Gunvald Larsson was sitting at his desk drinking coffee, Kollberg half sat with one thigh over the edge of the desk, nibbling at a pastry. Martin Beck sat down in Melander's chair, stared at Gunvald Larsson and said:
'Do you remember that woman who called up the same day I went to Motala? She wanted to report a man who was standing on a balcony on the other side of the street?'
Kollberg put the rest of the pastry into his mouth and stared at Martin Beck in astonishment
'Hell, yes,' Gunvald Larsson said. 'That crazy bitch. What about her?'
'Do you remember how she described him?'
'No, I certainly don't. How can I remember what all these nutty people say?'
Kollberg swallowed with some difficulty and said:
'What are you talking about?'
Martin Beck waved him to be quiet and went on:
'Think hard, Gunvald. It might be important.'
Gunvald Larsson looked at him distrustfully.
'Why? Okay, wait, and I'll think.'
After a while he said:
'Now I've thought. No, I don't remember. I don't think there was anything special about him. He no doubt looked very ordinary.'
He shoved the knuckle of his first finger into a nostril and frowned.
'Wasn't his fly undone? No, wait… No, it was his shirt. He had a white shirt and it was unbuttoned. That's it, now I remember. The old woman said he had blue-gray eyes and then I asked how narrow the street was. And do you know what she said? That the street wasn't narrow at all but that she looked at him through binoculars. Crazy. She was a peeper, of course, and she's the one who ought to be locked up. Sitting gaping at men through binoculars…'
'What are you talking about?' Kollberg asked again.
'That's what I'm wondering,' Gunvald Larsson said. 'Why is that suddenly so important?'
Martin Beck sat silent for a moment. Then he said:
'I happened to think of that man on the balcony because Gunvald used the same wording when he repeated the woman's description as when he summed up Lundgren's description of the man in Vanadis Park. Thin hair brushed back, big nose, average height, white unbuttoned shut, brown trousers, blue-gray eyes. Is that right?'
'Maybe,' Gunvald Larsson said. 'I don't really remember. But it fits Lundgren's man anyway.'
'You mean it could be the same person?' Kollberg asked doubtfully. 'It's not a very unusual description, is it?' Martin Beck shrugged.
'No. It doesn't tell us very much. But ever since we questioned Lundgren I've had a hunch that there's a connection between the murders and that man on the balcony. It's just that I couldn't put my finger on it until today.'
He stroked his chin and looked awkwardly at Kollberg. 'It's a very frail supposition. Not much to go on. I know that. But it might be worth while checking up on that man.' Kollberg got up and went over to the window. Stood with his back to it and folded his arms. 'Well, frail suppositions sometimes…'
Martin Beck was still looking at Gunvald Larsson.
'Come on now, try and remember that conversation. What did the woman say when she called up?'
Gunvald Larsson flung out his big hands.
'That's all she said. That she wanted to report a man who was standing on the balcony opposite. She thought it funny.'
'Why did she think it funny?'
'Because he was nearly always standing there. At night too. She said she watched him through binoculars. That he stood looking down into the street at the cars and at children playing. Then she lost her temper because I was not sufficiently interested. But why should I be interested? People have a right to stand on their balconies without the neighbors calling up the police. Eh? What the hell did she want me to do?'
'Where did she live?' Martin Beck asked.
'I don't know,' Gunvald Larsson replied. 'I'm not even sure she said.'
'What was her name?' Kollberg asked.
'I don't know. Come to that, how the hell could I know?'
'Didn't you ask her?' Martin Beck said.
'Yes, I suppose I did. One always does.'
'Can't you remember?' Kollberg said. 'Think hard.'
Martin Beck and Kollberg watched with close attention the visible expressions of Gunvald Larsson's forced mental processes. He had his fair eyebrows drawn together so that they formed a continuous line above the clear blue eyes. He was also red in the face and looked as if he sat straining. After a while he said:
'No, I don't remember. Mrs… er… Mrs. something.'
'Didn't you write it down anywhere?' Martin Beck asked. 'You always make a note of things.'
Gunvald Larsson glared at him.
'Yes, I do. But I don't keep all my notes. I mean, it wasn't anything important. A crazy old girl calling up. Why should I remember it?'
Kollberg sighed.
'Well, where do we go from here?'
'When is Melander coming?' Martin Beck asked.
'Three o'clock, I think. He was working last night.'
'Call up and ask him to come here now,' Martin Beck said. 'He can sleep some other time.'
23
SURE ENOUGH, when Kollberg called up, Melander was asleep in his apartment at the corner of Norr Malarstrand and Polhemsgatan. Dressing at once, he drove the short distance to Kungsholmsgatan in his own car and only a quarter of an hour later he joined the other three.
He recalled the telephone conversation and when they had run the last part of the tape from the interrogation with Rolf Evert Lundgren, he confirmed that Martin Beck's theory concerning the description was correct. Then he asked for a cup of coffee and began carefully filling his pipe.
He lighted up, leaned back in the chair and said:
'So you think there's some connection?'
'It's only supposition,' Martin Beck said. 'A contribution to the guessing competition.'
'There may be something in it, of course,' Melander said. 'What do you want me to do about it?'
'Use that built-in computer you have instead of a brain,' Kollberg said.
