The constable looked at the officer, who shrugged his shoulders, amused. Then he put on his cap and followed her out.
‘She seemed right at home,’ said Martin Beck.
‘Oh yeah, this isn't the first time. And certainly not the last.’
He sat down at the table and started cleaning his pipe into an ashtray.
‘That was nasty, that business with Nyman,’ he said. ‘How did it happen, exactly?’
Martin Beck told him briefly what had happened.
‘Ugh,’ the officer said. ‘Whoever did it must be a raving lunatic. But why Nyman?’
‘You knew Nyman, didn't you?’ Martin Beck asked him.
‘Not very well. He wasn't the sort of person you knew well.’
‘He was here on special assignment of course. When did he come here to the Fourth?’
‘They gave him an office here three years ago. February '68.’
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