The Man on the Balcony

A few hours later for him than for the others. But that was about all.

9 (#ulink_d12b7d7d-baba-5d04-8b70-82fb1d70b818)

There are moments and situations that one would like to avoid at all costs but which cannot be put off. Police are probably faced with such situations more often than other people, and without a doubt they occur more often for some policemen than for others.

One of these situations is to question a woman called Karin Carlsson less than twenty-four hours after she has learned that her eight-year-old daughter has been strangled by a sex maniac. A lone woman who, despite injections and pills, is still suffering from shock and is so apathetic that she is still wearing the same brown cotton housecoat and the same sandals she had on when a corpulent policeman she had never seen before and would never see again had rung her doorbell the day before. Moments such as that immediately before the questioning begins.

A detective superintendent in the homicide squad knows that this questioning cannot be put off, still less avoided, because apart from this one witness there is not a single clue to go on. Because there is not yet a report on the autopsy and because the contents of that report are more or less already known.

Twenty-four hours earlier Martin Beck had been sitting in the stern of a rowboat taking up the nets that he and Ahlberg had put down early the same morning. Now he was standing in a room at investigation headquarters at Kungsholmsgatan with his right elbow propped on a filing cabinet, far too ill at ease even to sit down.

It had been thought suitable for this questioning to be conducted by a woman, a detective inspector of the vice squad. She was about forty-five and her name was Sylvia Granberg. In some ways the choice was a very good one. Sitting at the desk opposite the woman in the brown housecoat she looked as unmoved as the tape recorder she had just started.

When she switched off the apparatus forty minutes later she had undergone no apparent change, nor had she once faltered. Martin Beck noticed this again when, a little later, he played back the tape together with Kollberg and a couple of others.

GRANBERG: I know it's hard for you, Mrs Carlsson, but unfortunately there are certain questions we must put to you. WITNESS: Yes.

G: Your name is Karin Elisabet Carlsson?

W: Yes.

G: When were you born?

W: Sev … nineteenthir …

G: Can you try and keep your head turned towards the microphone when you answer?

W: Seventh of April 1937.

G: And your civil status?

W: What … I …

G: I mean are you single, married or divorced?

W: Divorced.

G: Since when?

W: Six years. Nearly seven.

G: And what is your ex-husband's name?

W: Sigvard Erik Bertil Carlsson.

G: Where does he live?

W: In Malmö … I mean he's registered there … I think.

G: Think? Don't you know?

MARTIN BECK: He's a seaman. We haven't been able to locate him yet.

G: Wasn't the husband liable for support of his daughter?

MB: Yes, of course, but he doesn't seem to have paid up for several years.

W: He … never really cared for Eva.

G: And your daughter's name was Eva Carlsson? No other first name?

W: No.

G: And she was born on the fifth of February 1959?

W: Yes.

G: Would you be good enough to tell us as exactly as possible what happened on Friday evening?

W: Happened … nothing happened. Eva … went out.

G: At what time?

W: Soon after seven. She'd been watching TV and we'd had our dinner.

G: What time was that?

W: At six o'clock. We always had dinner at six, when I got home. I work at a factory that makes lampshades … and I call for Eva at the afternoon nursery on the way home. She goes there herself after school … then we do the shopping on our way …

G: What did she have for dinner?

W: Meatballs … could I have a little water?

G: Of course. Here you are.

W: Thank you. Meatballs and mashed potatoes. And we had ice cream afterwards.

G: What did she drink?

W: Milk.

G: What did you do then?

W: We watched TV for a while … it was a children's programme.

G: And at seven o'clock or just after she went out?

W: Yes, it had stopped raining then. And the news had started on TV. She's not very interested in the news.