The Laughing Policeman

‘The old boy with the dog,’ said Kristiansson.

‘Exactly. They were notifed by a person whose name they didn't even bother to find out and whom we probably would never have identified if he hadn't been nice enough to come here today. When did you first catch sight of this man with the dog?’

‘Well …’ said Kvant.

‘About two minutes before we got to the bus,’ said Kristiansson, looking down at his boots.

‘Exactly. Because according to his statement they wasted at least a minute sitting in the car and shouting at him rudely. About dogs and things. Am I right?’

‘Yes,’ mumbled Kristiansson.

‘When you received the information the time was therefore approximately ten or eleven minutes past. How far from the bus was this man when he stopped you?’

‘About three hundred yards,’ said Kvant.

‘That's a fact, that's a fact,’ said Gunvald Larsson. ‘And since this man was seventy years old and also had a sick dachshund to drag along …’

‘Sick?’ said Kvant in surprise.

‘Exactly,’ Gunvald Larsson replied. ‘The damn dog had a slipped disc and was almost lame in the hind legs.’

‘I'm at last beginning to see what you mean,’ said Martin Beck.

‘Mm-m. I had the man do a trial run on the same stretch today. Dog and all. Made him do it three times, then the dog gave up.’

‘But that's cruelty to animals,’ Kvant said indignantly.

Martin Beck cast a surprised and interested glance at him.

‘At any rate the pair of them couldn't cover the distance in under three minutes, however hard they tried. Which means that the man must have caught sight of the stationary bus at seven minutes past eleven at the latest. And we know almost for sure that the massacre took place between three and four minutes earlier.’

‘How do you know that?’ Kristiansson and Kvant said in chorus.

‘None of your business,’ Gunvald Larsson retorted.

‘Inspector Strenström's watch,’ said Martin Beck. ‘One of the bullets passed straight through his chest and landed up in his right wrist. It broke off the stem of his wrist watch, an Omega Speedmaster, which according to the expert made the watch stop at the same instant. The hands showed three minutes and thirty-seven seconds past eleven.’

Gunvald Larsson glowered at him.

‘We knew Inspector Stenström, and he was meticulous about time,’ Martin Beck said sadly. ‘He was what watchmakers sometimes call a second hunter. That is, his watch always showed the exact time. Go on, Gunvald.’

‘This man with the dog came walking along Norrbackagatan from the direction of Karlbergsvägen. He was in fact overtaken by the bus just where the street begins. It took him about five minutes to trudge down Norrbackagatan. The bus did the same stretch in about forty-five seconds. He met nobody on the way. When he got to the corner he saw the bus standing on the other side of the street.’

‘So what,’ said Kvant.

‘Shut up,’ said Gunvald Larsson.

Kvant made a violent movement and opened his mouth, but glanced at Martin Beck and shut it again.

‘He did not see that the windows had been shattered, which, by the way, these two wonderboys didn't notice either when they eventually managed to crawl along. But he did see that the front door was open. He thought there had been an accident and hurried to get help. Calculating, quite correctly, that it would be quicker for him to reach the last bus stop than to go back up the hill along Norrbackagatan, he started off along Norra Stationsgatan in a south-westerly direction.’

‘Why?’ said Martin Beck.

‘Because he thought there'd be another bus waiting at the end of the line. As it happened, there wasn't. Instead, unfortunately, he met a police patrol car.’

Gunvald Larsson cast an annihilating china-blue glance at Kristiansson and Kvant.

‘A patrol car from Solna that came creeping out of its district like something that comes out when you lift up a rock. Well, how long had you been skulking with the engine idling and the front wheels on the city limits?’

‘Three minutes,’ said Kvant.

‘Four or five, more like it,’ said Kristiansson.

Kvant gave him a withering look.

‘And did you see anyone coming that way?’

‘No,’ said Kristiansson. ‘Not until that man with the dog.’

‘Which proves that the murderer cannot have made off to the south-west along Norra Stationsgatan, nor south up Norrbackagatan. If we take it that he did not hop over into the freight depot, there's only one possibility left. Norra Stationsgatan in the opposite direction.’

‘How do … we know that he didn't head into the station yard?’ Kristiansson asked.

‘Because that was the only spot where you two hadn't trampled down everything in sight. You forgot to climb over the fence and mess around there, too.’

‘OK, Gunvald, you've made your point, now,’ Martin Beck said. ‘Good. But as usual it took a hell of a time to get down to brass tacks.’

This remark encouraged Kristiansson and Kvant to exchange a look of relief and secret understanding. But Gunvald Larsson cracked out, ‘If you two had had any sense in your thick skulls you would have got into the car, caught the murderer and nabbed him.’

‘Or have been butchered ourselves,’ Kristiansson retorted misanthropically.

‘When I grab that guy I'm damn well going to shove you two in front of me,’ Gunvald Larsson said savagely.

Kvant stole a glance at the wall clock and said, ‘Can we go now? My wife –’

‘Yes,’ said Gunvald Larsson. ‘You can go to hell!’

Avoiding Martin Beck's reproachful look, he said, ‘Why didn't they think?’

‘Some people need longer than others to develop their train of thought,’ Martin Beck said amiably. ‘Not only detectives.’

11 (#ulink_dcd687bf-380b-5a47-bcc9-7a437db038d7)

‘Now we must think,’ Gunvald Larsson said briskly, banging the door. ‘There's a briefing with Hammar at three o'clock sharp. In ten minutes.’

Martin Beck, sitting with the telephone receiver to his ear, threw him an irritated glance, and Kollberg looked up from his papers and muttered gloomily, ‘As if we didn't know. Try thinking yourself on an empty stomach and see how easy it is.’

Having to go without a meal was one of the few things that could put Kollberg in a bad mood. By this time he had gone without at least three meals and was therefore particularly glum. Moreover, he thought he could tell from Gunvald Larsson's satisfied expression that the latter had just been out and had something to eat, and the thought didn't make him any happier.