Roseanna

Kollberg walked over to the desk, looked at several of the papers, and shrugged his shoulders.

Ahlberg came in. He took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. Then he turned to Martin Beck and said: ‘The Public Prosecutor wants to talk to you. He is still in the other room.’

The Prosecutor and the Police Superintendent were still sitting behind the table.

‘Beck,’ said the Prosecutor, ‘I don't see that your presence is necessary here any longer. There simply is not enough work for the three of you.’

‘That's true.’

‘In general I think that a lot of what is left to do can be done conveniently somewhere else.’

‘That is possible.’

‘To put it simply, I don't want to detain you here, especially if your presence is more motivated in another direction.’

‘That is also my point of view,’ the Chief of Police added.

‘Mine also,’ said Martin Beck.

They shook hands.

In Ahlberg's office it was still very quiet. Martin Beck did not break that silence.

After a while Melander came in. He hung up his hat and nodded to the others. Then he went over to the desk, sat down at Ahlberg's typewriter, put some paper in it and knocked out a few lines. He pulled the paper out of the typewriter, signed it, and placed it in the folder on the desk.

‘Was that anything?’ asked Ahlberg.

‘No,’ said Melander.

He hadn't changed his manner since he had come in.

‘We are going home tomorrow,’ Martin Beck said.

‘Great,’ said Kollberg and yawned.

Martin Beck took a step towards the door and then turned and looked at the man at the typewriter.

‘Are you coming along to the hotel?’ he asked.

Ahlberg put his head back and looked at the ceiling. Then he got up and began to straighten his tie.

In the hotel lobby they separated from Melander.

‘I've already eaten,’ he said. ‘Good night.’

Melander was a clean-living man. In addition he was economical with his expense account and subsisted mainly on hot dogs and soft drinks when he was out on a job.

The other three went into the dining room and sat down.

‘A gin and tonic,’ said Kollberg. ‘Schweppes.’

The others ordered beef, aquavit and beer. Kollberg took his drink and finished it in three swallows. Martin Beck took out a copy of the material which had been given to the reporters and read through it.

‘Will you do me a favour,’ said Martin Beck looking at Kollberg.

‘Always ready to,’ answered Kollberg.

‘I want you to write a new description, write it for me personally. Not a report but a real description. Not a description of a corpse but of a human being. Details. How she might have looked when she was alive. There's no hurry about it.’

Kollberg sat quietly for a while.

‘I understand what you mean,’ he said. ‘By the way, our friend Ahlberg supplied the world press with an untruth today. She actually did have a birthmark, on the inside of her left thigh. Brown. It looked like a pig.’

‘We didn't see it,’ said Ahlberg.

‘I saw it,’ Kollberg said.

Before he left he said:

‘Don't worry about it. No one can see everything. Anyway, it's your murder now. Forget that you've seen me. It was only an illusion. So long.’

‘So long,’ said Ahlberg.

They ate and drank silently. A lot later and without looking up from his drink, Ahlberg said:

‘Are you planning to let this one go now?’

‘No,’ replied Martin Beck.

‘I'm not either,’ said Ahlberg. ‘Never.’

Half an hour later they separated.

When Martin Beck went up to his room he found some folded papers under his door. He opened them and immediately recognized Kollberg's orderly, easy-to-read, handwriting. Because he had known Kollberg well for a long time he wasn't at all surprised.

He undressed, washed the top of his body in cold water and put on his pyjamas. Then he put his shoes out in the corridor, laid his trousers under the mattress, turned on the night table lamp, turned off the ceiling light and got into bed.

Kollberg had written:

The following can be said about the woman who is occupying your thoughts:

1 She was (as you already know) 5 feet, 6 1/2 inches tall, had grey-blue eyes and dark brown hair. Her teeth were good and she had no scars from operations or other marks on her body with the exception of a birthmark, high up on the inside of her left thigh about an inch and a half from her groin. It was brown and about as large as a dime, but uneven and looked like a little pig. She was, according to the man who performed the autopsy (and I had to press him to tell me this on the telephone), 27 or 28 years old. She weighed about 123 pounds.

2 She was built in the following manner: Small shoulders and a very small waist, broad hips and a well developed rear end. Her measurements ought to have been approximately: 32-23-37. Thighs: heavy and long. Legs: muscular with relatively heavy calves but not fat. Her feet were in good condition with long, straight toes. No corns but heavy calluses on the soles of her feet, as if she had gone barefoot a lot and worn sandals or rubber boots a great deal of the time. She had a lot of hair on her legs, and must have been bare-legged most of the time. Condition of her legs: some defects. She was somewhat knock-kneed and seems to have walked with her toes pointed outward. She had a good deal of flesh on her body but was not fat. Slender arms. Small hands but long fingers. Shoe size was 7.

3 The suntan on her body showed: she had sunbathed in a two-piece bathing suit and worn sunglasses. She had worn thong sandals on her feet.

4 Her sex organ was well developed with a heavy growth of dark hair. Her breasts were small and slack. The nipples were large and dark brown.