The Laughing Policeman (15 page)

'It would be nice to -' Kollberg began, and broke off, feeling it was superfluous to go on. It certainly would be nice to know whom one was hunting and where the hunt ought to be carried on.

'I'm merely quoting the Minister of Justice,' Martin Beck said innocently. '"Our keenest brains" - he's referring of course to Månsson and Nordin - "are working at high pressure to corner and capture an insane mass murderer; it is of prime importance to both the community and the individual that he be put out of action.'"

'When did he say that?'

'For the first time seventeen days ago. For the umpteenth time yesterday. But yesterday he was given only four lines on page 22. I bet that rankles. There's an election next year.'

Melander had finished his telephone conversation. He poked at the bowl of his pipe with a straightened paper clip and said quietly, 'Isn't it about time we took care of the insane mass murderer, so to speak?'

Fifteen seconds passed before Kollberg replied. 'Yes, it certainly is. It's also time to lock the door and shut off the telephones.'

'Is Gunvald here?' Martin Beck asked.

'Yes, Mr Larsson is sitting in there picking his teeth with the paper knife.'

'Tell them to put all calls through to him,' Martin Beck said. Melander reached for the phone.

'Tell them to send up some coffee, too,' Kollberg said. 'Three sweet rolls and a Mazarine for me, please.'

The coffee arrived after ten minutes. Kollberg locked the door.

They sat down. Kollberg slurped the coffee and started in on the sweet rolls.

'The situation is as follows,' he said with his mouth full 'The loony murderer with a lust for sensation is standing lugubriously in the police commissioner's closet. When he's needed we take him out again and dust him off. The working hypothesis is therefore this: A person armed with a Suomi submachine gun model 37 shoots nine people dead on a bus. These people have no connection with each other, they merely happen to be in the same place at the same time.'

"The gunman has a motive,' Martin Beck said.

'Yes,' Kollberg said, reaching for the Mazarine cupcake. 'That's what I've thought all along. But he can't have a motive for killing people who are together haphazardly. Therefore his real intention is to eliminate one of them.'

'The murder was carefully planned,' Martin Beck said.

'One of the nine,' Kollberg said. 'But which? Have you the list there, Fredrik?'

'Don't need it,' Melander said.

'No, of course not. Didn't think what I was saying. Let's go through it.'

Martin Beck nodded. The ensuing conversation took the form of a dialogue between Kollberg and Melander.

'Gustav Bengtsson,' Melander said. 'The bus driver. His presence on the bus was justified, we can say.'

'Undeniably.'

'He seems to have led an ordinary, normal life. No marital troubles. No convictions. Conscientious at work. Liked by his colleagues. We've also questioned some friends of the family. They say he was respectable and steady-going. He was a teetotaller. Forty-eight years old. Born here in the city.'

'Enemies? None. Influence? None. Money? None. Motive for killing him? None. Next.'

'I'm not following Rönn's numbering now,' Melander said. 'Hildur Johansson, widow, sixty-eight She was on her way home to Norra Stationsgatan from her daughter in Västmannagatan. Born at Edsbro. Daughter questioned by Larsson, Månsson and ... ha, it doesn't matter. She led a quiet life and lived on her old-age pension. There's not much more to say about her.'

'Well, just that she presumably got on at Odengatan and only went six stops. And that no one except her daughter and son-in-law knew she would ride that particular stretch at that particular time. Go on.'

'Johan Källstrom, who was fifty-two and born in Vasteras. Foreman at a garage, Gren's on Sibyllegatan. He had been working overtime and was on his way home, that's dear. He, too, was happily married. His chief interests, his car and summer cottage. No convictions. Earned good money, but no more. Those who know him say he probably took the underground from Östermalmstorg to Central Station, where he changed to the bus. Should therefore have come up at the Drottninggatan exit and boarded the bus outside Åhléns department store. His boss says he was a skilled workman and a good foreman. The mechanics at the garage say that he was -'

'... a slavedriver to those he could bully and a bootlicker to his bosses. I went and talked to them. Next'

'Alfons Schwerin was forty-three and born in Minneapolis, in the USA, of Swedish-American parents. Came to Sweden just after the war and stayed here. He had a small business that imported Carpathian spruce for sounding boards, but he went bankrupt ten years ago. Schwerin drank. He had two spells at Beckomberga in the alcoholic clinic and was sentenced to three months at Bogesund for drunken driving. That was three years ago. When his business went to pot he became a labourer. He was working for the local council. On the evening in question he had been at Restaurant Pilen on Bryggargatan and was on his way home. He hadn't had much to drink, presumably because he was broke. His lodgings were mean and shabby. He probably walked from the restaurant to the bus stop on Vasagatan. He was a bachelor and had no relations in Sweden, his fellow workers liked him. Say he was pleasant and good-tempered, could hold his liquor and hadn't an enemy in the world.'

'And he saw the killer and said something unintelligible to Rönn before he died. Have we had the expert's report on the tape?'

'No. Mohammed Boussie, Algerian, worked at a restaurant, thirty-six, born at some unpronounceable place the name of which I've forgotten.'

'Tsk, how careless.'

'He had lived in Sweden for six years and before that in Paris. Took no active part in politics. He had a savings account at the bank. Those who knew him say he was shy and reserved. He had finished work at ten thirty and was on his way home. Decent, but stingy and dull.'

"You're sitting there describing yourself.'

'Britt Danielsson, nurse, born 1940 at Eslöv. She was sitting beside Stenström, but there's nothing to show she knew him. The doctor she was going steady with was on duty that night at Southern Hospital. She presumably got on at Odengatan together with the widow Johansson and was on her way home. There are no time margins there. She finished work and went to the bus. Of course we don't know for sure that she was not together with Stenström.'

Kollberg shook his head.

'Not a chance,' he said. 'Why should he bother about that pale little thing? He had all he wanted at home.'

Melander looked at him blankly but let the question drop.

'Then we have Assarsson. A respectable exterior but not so pretty underneath.'

Melander paused and fiddled with his pipe. Then he went on:

'Rather shady figure, this Assarsson. Sentenced twice for tax evasion and also for a sexual offence at the beginning of the 1950s. Sexually exploited a fourteen-year-old errand girl. Prison all three times. Assarsson had plenty of money. He was ruthless in business and in everything else. A lot of people had reason to dislike him. Even his wife and his brother thought he was pretty nasty. But one thing is clear. His presence on the bus had a reason. He had come from some sort of club meeting on Narvavägen and was on his way to a mistress by the name of Olsson. She lives on Karlbergsvägen and works at Assarsson's office. He had called her up and told her he was coming. We have interrogated her several times.'

'Who questioned her?'

'Gunvald and Månsson. On different occasions. She says that

'Just a moment. Why did he take the bus?'

'Presumably because he'd had a lot to drink and didn't dare to drive his own car. And he couldn't get hold of a taxi because of the rain. The company's central switchboard was overloaded and there wasn't a vacant taxi in the whole of town.'

'OK. What does the kept woman say?'

"That she thought Assarsson was a dirty old man, and almost impotent That she did it for the money and to keep her job. Gunvald got the impression that she's a bit of a slut and has other men as well, and is rather backward.'

'Mr Larsson and women. I think I'll write a novel and call it that'

'She as much as admitted to Månsson that she used to oblige Assarsson's business acquaintances, as she put it. At his orders. Assarsson was born in Gothenburg and got on at Djurgårdsbron.'

'Thanks, old pal. That's exactly how I'll begin my novel. "He was born in Gothenburg and got on at Djurgårdsbron." Brilliant'

'All the times fit' Melander said, unperturbed.

Martin Beck broke into the conversation for the first time.

'So that leaves only Stenström and the unknown man?'

‘Yes,' Melander said. 'All we know about Stenström is that he came from Djurgården, oddly enough. And that he was armed. As regards the unidentified man, we know that he was a narcotics addict and between thirty-five and forty. Nothing more.'

'And all the others had a reason for being on the bus?' Martin Beck asked.

'Yes.'

'We have found out why they were there?' 'Yes.'

'The moment has come for the already classic question: What was Stenström doing on the bus?' Kollberg said.

'We must talk to the girl,' Martin Beck said.

Melander took his pipe out of his mouth.

'Åsa Torell? You've already talked to her, both of you. And since then we've questioned her again.'

'Who?' Martin Beck asked.

'Rönn, a little over a week ago.'

'No, not Rönn,' he murmured to himself.

'What do you mean?' said Melander.

'Rönn's right enough in his way,' Martin Beck said. 'But in this case he doesn't quite understand what it's all about Besides, he had very little contact with Stenström.'

Kollberg and Martin Beck looked at each other for a long time. Neither of them said anything, and at last it was Melander who broke the silence.

'Well? What was Stenström doing on the bus?'

'He was going to meet a girl,' Kollberg said unconvincingly. 'Or a mate.'

Kollberg's part in these discussions was always to contradict, but this time he didn't really believe in himself.

'One thing you're forgetting,' Melander said. 'We've been knocking at doors in that district for ten days. And not found a single person who has ever heard of Stenström.'

'That proves nothing. That part of town is full of odd little hideaways and shady boarding houses. At places like that the police are not very popular.'

'All the same, I think we can dismiss the girlfriend theory as far as Stenström is concerned,' Martin Beck said.

'On what grounds?' Kollberg asked quickly.

'I don't believe in it.'

'But you admit that it's quite possible?'

'Yes.'

'OK. Dismiss it then. For the time being.'

'The key question therefore seems to be: What was Stenström doing on the bus?' Martin Beck said.

'Wait a minute,' Kollberg objected. 'What was the unknown man doing on the bus?'

'Never mind the unknown man at the moment'

'Why? His presence is just as remarkable as Stenström's. Besides, we don't know who he was or what business he had there.'

'Maybe he was just riding the bus.' 'Just riding the bus?'

'Yes. Many homeless people do. "For one krona you can ride two trips. A couple of hours.'

'The underground is warmer,' Kollberg objected. 'What's more, there you can ride as long as you like, provided you don't pass through the gates but only change trains.'

'Yes, but -'

'And you're forgetting something important Not only did the unidentified man have crumbs of hash and amphetamines in his pockets. He also had more money than all the other passengers put together.'

'Which, incidentally, excludes the possibility of murder for the sake of robbery,' Melander put in.

'Furthermore,' added Martin Beck, 'as you yourself said, that district is full of hide-outs and shady boarding houses. Perhaps he lived in one of those fleapits. No, back to the basic question: What was Stenström doing on the bus?'

They sat silent for at least a minute. In the next room the telephones kept ringing. Now and then they could hear voices, Gunvald Larsson's or Rönn's. At last Melander said, ‘What could Stenström do?'

All three knew the answer to that question. Melander nodded slowly and answered himself. 'Stenström could shadow.'

'Yes,' Martin Beck said. 'That was his speciality. He was skilful and stubborn. He could go on shadowing a person for weeks.'

Kollberg scratched his neck and said, 'I remember when he drove that sex murderer from the Göta Canal boat mad four years ago.'

'Baited him,' said Martin Beck.

No one answered.

'He had the knack even then,' said Martin Beck. 'But he had learned a lot since then.'

'By the way, did you ask Hammar about that?' Kollberg said suddenly. 'I mean about what Stenström did last summer when we went through unsolved cases.'

'Yes,' Martin Beck replied. 'But I drew a blank. Stenström had discussed the matter with Hammar, who made one or two suggestions - which ones he didn't remember, but they were ruled out by age. Not because the cases were too old but because Stenström was too young. He didn't want anything that had happened when he was a boy of ten running around playing cops and robbers in Hallstahammar. At last he decided to look into that disappearance case that you too were working on.'

'I never heard anything from him,' Kollberg said.

'I suppose he just went through what was written.'

'Probably.'

Silence, and Melander was again the one to break it Getting up he said, 'Hm, where have we got to?' 'Don't quite know,' said Martin Beck.

'Excuse me’ Melander said and went out to the toilet When he had closed the door, Kollberg looked at Martin Beck and said, ‘Who's going to see Åsa?'

'You. It's a one-man job and of us two you're best fitted for it'

Kollberg made no answer.

'Don't you want to?' Martin Beck asked.

'No, I don't But I will all the same.'

'This evening?'

'I have two matters to attend to first One at Västberga and one at home. Call her up and say I'll be along about seven thirty.'