The Laughing Policeman

want?'

'Yes. I'll be at Kungsholmsgatan.'

Kollberg and Martin Beck hardly had time to begin talking when the call came through. 'A 6708,' Hjelm said laconically. 'Excellent'

'Easy. You should almost have been able to see it yourself.' Kollberg put down the phone. Martin Beck gave him an inquiring look.

‘Yes. It was Forsberg's car that Goransson used at Eksjo. No doubt of that What are Forsberg's alibis like?'

'Weak. In June '51, he had a bachelor flat on Hollandaregatan, in the same building as that mysterious firm. At the interrogation he said that he had been in Norrtalje on the evening of the tenth. Evidently he had been, too. Met someone there at seven o'clock. Then, still according to his own statement, he took the last train back to Stockholm, arriving at eleven thirty in the evening. He also said that he had lent his car to one of his salesmen, who confirmed this.'

'But he was damn careful not to say that he had exchanged cars with Goransson.'

'Yes,' Martin Beck said. 'So he had Goransson's Morris, and this puts a different complexion on things. He made his way comfortably back to Stockholm by car in an hour and a half. The cars were parked in the rear courtyard at Hollandaregatan, and no one could see in from the street There was, however, a cold-storage room in the yard. It was used for fur coats, which officially had been left for storage over the summer but which in all probability were stolen. Why do you think they exchanged cars?'

'I expect the explanation is very simple,' Kollberg said. 'Goransson was a salesman and had a lot of clothes and junk with him. He could pack three times as much into Forsberg's Vedette as into his own Morris.'

He sat in silence for half a minute, then said, 'I don't suppose Goransson was aware of it until afterwards. When he got back he realized what had happened and that the car might be dangerous. That's why he had it scrapped immediately after the interrogation.'

‘What did Forsberg say about his relations with Teresa?' Martin Beck asked.

'That he met her at a dance hall in the autumn of 1950 and slept with her several times, how often he didn't remember. Then he met his future wife in the winter and lost interest in nymphomaniacs.'

'Did he say that?'

'More or less in those words. Why do you think he killed her? To get rid of the victim, as Stenstrom wrote in the margin of Wendel's book?'

'Presumably. They all said they couldn't shake her off. And of course it wasn't a sex murder.'

'No, but he wanted it to look like one. And then he had the unbelievable stroke of luck that the witnesses got the cars mixed up. He must have been tickled pink. That meant he could feel pretty safe. Goransson was the only worry.'

'Goransson and Forsberg were pals,' Martin Beck said.

'And then nothing happened until Stenstrom started rooting in the Teresa case and got that strange tip from Birgersson. He found out that Goransson was the only one who had had a Morris Minor. The right colour, what's more. He questioned a lot of people off his own initiative and started shadowing Goransson. He soon noticed, of course, that Goransson was getting money from someone and assumed that it came from whoever had murdered Teresa Camarao. Goransson got more and more jittery ... By the way, do we know where he was between 8 October and 13 November?'

'Yes. In a boat down at Klara Strand. Nordin found the spot this morning.' Kollberg nodded.

'Stenstrom realized that sooner or later Goransson would lead him to the murderer, and so he went on shadowing him day after day, and presumably quite openly. It turned out that he was right. Though the result for his own part was not a success. If he had hurried up with that trip to Smaland instead ...'

Kollberg was silent. Martin Beck thoughtfully rubbed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger of his right hand.

'Yes, it seems to fit' he said. 'Psychologically as well. There were still nine years before the Teresa murder would have lapsed and the period of prosecution expired. And a murder is the only crime which is sufficiently grave for a more or less normal person to go to such lengths in order to avoid discovery. Besides, Forsberg has an awful lot to lose.'

'Do we know what he did on the evening of 13 November?'

'Yes. He butchered all those people in the bus, including Stenstrom and Goransson, both of whom were extremely dangerous for him by this time. But the only thing we know at present is that he had an opportunity of committing the murders.'

'How do we know that?'

'Gunvald managed to kidnap Forsberg's German maid. She has the evening off every Monday. And according to a pocket diary she had in her handbag, she spent the night with her boyfriend between the thirteenth and fourteenth. We also know, still from the same source, that Mrs Forsberg was out at a ladies' dinner that evening. Consequently, Forsberg himself was presumed to be at home. On principle, they never leave the children alone.'

'Where is she now? The maid?'

'Here. And we're keeping her overnight'

'What do you think about his mental condition?' Kollberg asked.

'Probably very bad. On the verge of collapse.' 'The question is, do we have enough evidence to take him in?' Kollberg said.

'Not for the bus,' Martin Beck replied. 'That would be a blunder. But we can arrest him as a suspect for the murder of Teresa Camarao. We have a key witness, whose opinion has changed, and a number of new facts.'

'When?'

'Tomorrow morning.' 'Where?'

'At his office. The minute he arrives. No need to drag his wife and children into it especially if he's desperate.' 'How?'

'As quietly as possible. No shooting and no kicked-in doors.' Kollberg thought for a moment before asking his last question. 'Who?'

'Myself and Melander.'

₃₀

The blonde at the switchboard behind the marble counter put down her nail file when Martin Beck and Melander entered the reception room.

Bjorn Forsberg's office was on the sixth floor of a building on Kungsgatan near Stureplan. The fourth and fifth floors were also occupied by the firm.

The time was only five minutes past nine and they knew that Forsberg did not usually come until about nine thirty.

'But his secretary will be here soon,' the girl at the switchboard said. 'If you care to sit down and wait.'

On the other side of the room, out of sight of the receptionist, some armchairs were grouped around a low glass table. The two men hung up their overcoats and sat down.

The six doors leading out of the reception room had no name plates. One of them was ajar.

Martin Beck got up, peeped in the door and vanished inside the room. Melander took out his pipe and tobacco pouch, filled his pipe and struck a match. Martin Beck came back and sat down.

They sat in silence, waiting. Now and then the telephone operator's voice was heard, and the buzz from the switchboard as she put the calls through. Otherwise the only sound was the faint noise of the traffic. Martin Beck turned the pages of a year-old issue of Industria, Melander leaned back with the pipe in his mouth and his eyes half-closed.

At twenty past nine the outer door was pulled open and a woman came in. She was dressed in a fur coat and high leather boots and had a large handbag over her arm.

She nodded to the girl at the switchboard and walked quickly towards the half-open door. Without slowing her steps she cast an expressionless glance at the men in the armchairs. Then she banged the door behind her.

After another twenty minutes Forsberg arrived.

He was dressed in the same way as the day before and his movements were brisk and energetic. He was just