The Laughing Policeman

Someone - Stenstrom, without a doubt - had underlined this sentence. Beside it he had drawn an exclamation mark and written the words 'or the reverse'.

In the paragraph a little farther down the same page that began with the words In cases of sex murder the victim can have been killed, he had underlined two points: 4) after the sex act in order to prevent accusation and 5) because of the effect of shock.

In the margin he had made the following comment 6) to get rid of the victim, but is it then a sex murder?

'Asa,' Kollberg said.

'Yes, what is it?'

'Do you know when Ake wrote this?' She came up to him, glanced swiftly at the book and said, 'No idea.'

'Asa,' he said again.

She plunged her half-smoked cigarette into the overflowing ashtray and remained standing beside the table with her hands loosely clasped over her stomach.

'Yes, what the dickens is it?' she asked irritably.

Kollberg looked at her searchingly. She looked small and wretched. Today she was wearing a shortsleeved blue blouse instead of the knitted sweater. She had goosepimples on her arms and although the blouse hung like a loosely draped cloth over her thin body, her large nipples showed as distinct protrusions under the material.

'Sit down,' he commanded.

She shrugged, took a new cigarette and walked over to the bedroom door while she fumbled with the lighter. 'Sit down!' Kollberg roared.

She jumped, and looked at him. Her brown eyes almost glittered with hatred. Nevertheless, she went to the armchair and sat down opposite him. Stiff as a poker, with her hands on her thighs. In her right hand she held the lighter, in her left the still unlit cigarette.

'We have to put our cards on the table,' Kollberg said, stealing an embarrassed glance at the brown envelope.

'Splendid,' she said in an icy, clear voice. 'It's just that I haven't any cards to put'

'But I have.'

'Oh?'

‘When we were here last we weren't altogether frank with you.' She frowned. 'In what way?'

'In several ways. First let me ask you: Do you know what Ake was doing on that bus?'

'No, no, no and again no. I - do - not - know.' 'Nor do we,' said Kollberg.

He paused. Then, drawing a deep breath, he went on. 'Ake lied to you.'

Her reaction was violent. Her eyes flashed. She clenched her fists. The cigarette was crushed between her fingers and flakes of tobacco were strewn over her slacks.

'How dare you say that to me!'

'Because it's true. Ake was not on duty - either on the Monday when he was killed or on the previous Saturday. He had had an unusual amount of time off during the whole of October and the first two weeks of November.'

She stared at him without saying anything.

'That is a fact,' Kollberg went on. 'Another thing I would like to know: was he in the habit of carrying his pistol when he was not on duty?'

It was some time before she answered.

'Go to hell and stop tormenting me with your interrogation tactics. Why doesn't the Great Interrogator himself come? Martin Beck?'

Kollberg bit his lower lip. 'Have you cried a lot?' he asked. 'No. I'm not made that way.'

‘Well then, answer for Christ's sake. We must help each other.' ‘what with?'

'With getting hold of the man who killed him. And the others.' ‘Why?'

She sat quiet for a while. Then she said, so softly that he could hardly hear it: 'Revenge. Of course. To be revenged.' 'Did he usually carry his pistol?' 'Yes. Often at any rate.' 'Why?'

‘Why not? As it turned out, he needed it. Didn't he?' He made no reply. 'Though a lot of help it was.' Kollberg still said nothing. 'I loved Ake,' she said.

The voice was dear and matter-of-fact Her eyes were fixed on a point behind Kollberg. 'Asa?' 'Yes?'

'He was away a lot, then. You don't know what he was up to and we don't know either. Do you think he might have been together with someone else? Some other woman, that is?'

'No:

‘You don't think so?'

'I don't think anything. I know.'

'How can you know?'

'That's my business. And I know.'

She looked him suddenly in the eye and said in astonishment, 'Did you get it into your heads that he had a mistress?' ‘Yes. We still haven't ruled out that possibility.' 'Then you can do so. It's completely out of the question.' 'Why?'

'I've said it's none of your business.' Kollberg drummed his fingertips on the tabletop. 'But you know for sure?' 'Yes, I know for sure.'

He took another deep breath, as though plucking up his courage.

'Was Ake interested in photography?'

‘Yes. It was about his only hobby after he stopped playing football. He has three cameras. And there's one of those enlarging gadgets in the loo. He used the bathroom as a darkroom.'

She looked at Kollberg in surprise.

'Why do you ask that?'

He pushed the envelope across to her side of the table. She put down the cigarette lighter and took out the pictures with trembling hands. Looked at the one on top and went scarlet.

'Where ... where did you get hold of these?'

'They were in his desk out at Vastberga.'

'What! In his desk?’

She blinked hard and asked unexpectedly, 'How many have seen them? The entire police force?' 'Only three people.' 'Who?’

'Martin, myself and my wife.' 'Gun?'

‘Yes’

‘Why did you show them to her?'

'Because I was coming here. I wanted her to know what you ' looked like.'

'What I look like? And what we look like? Ake and -

'Ake is dead’ Kollberg said tonelessly.

Her face was still fiery red. So were her neck and arms. Tiny glistening beads of sweat had broken out on her forehead, just below her hairline.

'The pictures were taken in here?' he asked.

She nodded.

'When?'

Asa Torell bit her lower lip nervously.

'About three months ago.'

'I presume he took them himself?'

'Naturally. He has ... had all sorts of photography gadgets. Self-timer and tripod and whatever they're called.' 'Why did he take them?'

She was still flushed and perspiring but her voice was steadier.

'Because we thought it was fun.'

'And why did he have them in his desk?'