Martin Beck: The Terrorists - Part 6
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Part 6

On the way out to Rotebro he said, 'You heard about Gunvald, didn't you? That he got hit in the stomach by the President's head?'

Martin Beck had heard and said, 'He was lucky to get away with just that'

Benny Skacke drove for a while in silence, then said, 'I was thinking about Gunvald's clothes. He's always so careful about them and always gets them ruined. He must have gotten absolutely covered with blood.'

'Must have,' said Martin Beck. 'But he got out of it alive, so he's still ahead of the game.'

'Ahead is right!' said Skacke with a snort of laughter.

Benny Skacke was thirty-five and during the last six years had often worked with Martin Beck. He reckoned he had gained all his basic knowledge of criminal work by observing and studying the work of Lennart Kollberg and Martin Beck. He had also noted the special rapport that existed between the two men and had been amazed how easily they read each other's thoughts. He realized that such rapport would never arise between himself and Martin Beck, and he was aware that in Martin Beck's eyes he was a poor subst.i.tute for Kollberg. This insight often made him unsure of himself in Martin Beck's company.

For his part, Martin Beck understood very well how Skacke felt and did his best to encourage him and show that he appreciated his efforts. He had watched Skacke mature during the years he had known him and he knew Skacke worked hard, not only to do well in his career but also to become a really good policeman. He regularly spent his free time building up his physique and practising on the firing range, and he studied constantly - law, sociology and psychology- and he also kept himself well informed on what was happening within the force, both technically and organizationally.

Skacke was also a good driver and had a better knowledge of Stockholm and all its new suburbs than any taxi driver. He had no difficulty finding the address in Rotebro and stopped at the end of the row of parked cars on Tennisvagen.

A few representatives of the press had already, arrived, but at least for the moment they were being held in check by a couple of policemen in civilian clothes who were standing by their cars and talking to them. The photographers immediately recognized Martin Beck and ran up clicking their cameras. The driveway leading to the house and garage was barred, but the policeman on duty let Martin Beck and Skacke through with a polite tip of his cap.

Inside, the house was seething with activity. The men from the crime lab were hard at work, a man squatting in the hall dusting a table lamp on a low chest by the telephone for fingerprints, and the flare of a flashbulb revealing a photographer in another room.

Chief Inspector Parsson came up to Martin Beck and Skacke. 'That was quick,' he said. 'Do you want to look in the bathroom first?'

The man in the bath was not a pretty sight, and neither Martin Beck nor Skacke stayed in there any longer than necessary.

'The doctor just left,' said Parsson. 'He says the man's been dead at least eight and at most fifteen hours. The blow killed him at once, and he thinks the weapon may have been an iron lever or a crowbar, or something like that'

'Who is he?' asked Martin Beck, nodding towards the bathroom.

Parsson sighed. 'Unfortunately someone the evening papers will make a meal of. Walter Petrus, the film director.' 'Oh, Christ,' said Martin Beck.

'Or Valter Petrus Pettersson, film director, as it says in his papers. His clothes, wallet and briefcase were lying in the bedroom.'

The men who had come to collect the body were standing impatiently waiting to get past, and Martin Beck, Parsson and Skacke went into the living room to get out of the way.

'Where's the woman who lives here?' asked Martin Beck. 'And who is she? Don't tell me she's a film star.'

'No, thank G.o.d,' said Parsson. 'She's upstairs. We've got a man talking to her at the moment Her name's Maud Lundin. She's forty-two and works in a beauty salon in Sveavagen.'

'How does she seem?' asked Skacke. 'Is she in shock?'

'Well,' said Parsson, 'she seemed more shaken. I think she's fairly calm now. She can't sleep here tonight, but she says she's got a friend in town who'll put her up until we've finished here.'

'Have you had time to question the neighbours?' asked Martin Beck.

'We've only spoken to the people who live in the houses on either side, and to the neighbour across the road. None of them saw or heard anything unusual, they say. But we'll have to go to the other houses along the road tomorrow. Maybe we'll have to talk to everyone in Rotebro. This is the sort of place where people know each other - their kids go to the same school, they shop at the same shops, and the ones who haven't got cars use the same buses and trains.'

'But this Walter Petrus, does he live here, too?' asked Benny Skacke.

'No,' said Parsson. 'He comes a few times a week and spends the night with Mrs Lundin. He lives with his wife and three children in a house in Djursholm.'

'Has the family been informed?' asked Martin Beck.

'Yes,' said Parsson. 'We were lucky - there was a receipt from a private doctor in the briefcase. We called him and he seems to be their doctor and knows the family well. He offered to tell the family and look after them.'

'Good,' said Martin Beck. 'We'll have to question them tomorrow, too. It's getting a little late now, so all we can do is try to finish up here.'

Parsson looked at his watch. 'Half-past nine,' he said. 'Not that late. But you're right. Maybe we can leave his family in peace for a while.'

Parsson was a tall, thin man with snow-white hair and a freckled complexion, which always looked slightly sunburnt. He gave an aristocratic impression, with his narrow hooked nose, thin lips and small, elegant, deliberate movements.

'I'd like to talk to Maud Lundin for a while,' said Martin Beck. 'You said you have a man upstairs with her. Would it be all right if I went up?'

'Yes, of course,' said Parsson. "That'll be fine. You're the boss anyway, so do as you please.'

They could hear voices and noises outside and Parsson went into the kitchen to look out of the window. 'Those d.a.m.ned reporters,' he said. 'They're like vultures. I'd better go out and talk to them.' He walked towards the front door with dignified gait and serious face.

'You could look around a little,' said Martin Beck to Skacke.

Skacke nodded, went over to the bookcase and began to study the t.i.tles.

Martin Beck went up the stairs, which led into a large square room with wall-to-wall white carpeting. The furniture consisted of eight bulging armchairs in light-coloured leather in a circle around a huge circular gla.s.s-topped table. There was a very complex, and evidently very expensive stereo setup against one wall and white-painted loudspeakers on shelves in each corner. The ceiling was angled and the view through the large window facing out over the back of the house was rural and peaceful, with the shifting green of the forest beyond the wide field.

There was only one door in the room, and that was closed. Martin Beck could hear the murmur of voices through it He knocked and went in.

Two women were sitting on a double bed with a white faux-fur bedspread. They fell silent and looked up at him as he stood in the doorway.

One of the women was heavily built and considerably taller than the other. She had powerful features, dark eyes, and her hair was parted in the centre and hung straight and glossy down her back. The other woman was slim and slightly angular, with lively brown eyes and very short dark hair.

'Martin' she said. 'Hi! I didn't know you were here.'

Martin Beck was surprised too, and hesitated before answering. 'Hi, sa,' he said. 'I didn't know you were here, either. Parsson said he had a man up. here.'

'Oh,' said sa Torell, 'he calls everyone his men, even if they're women.'

She turned back to the other woman. 'Maud, this is Chief Inspector Beck. He's the head of the National Murder Squad.'

The woman nodded at Martin Beck, who nodded back. He had not really collected himself after the unexpected meeting with sa. Five years earlier he had almost been in love with her.

He had met her eight years ago, when her fiance and his youngest colleague, ke Stenstrom, had been shot dead, together with eight other people.in a bus. sa had mourned ke for a long time and had eventually decided to join the police. She was an a.s.sistant to Parsson in Marsta now.

One summer night in Malmo, five years earlier, Martin Beck and sa had slept together. It had been a good night, and had never been repeated. He was glad now. sa was a sweet girl and their relationship was good and friendly whenever they met on duty, but after Rhea it was impossible for him to have s.e.xual feelings for any other woman. sa was still unmarried, apparently wholly absorbed in her job, and she had become a very skilful policewoman.

'Go down to Parsson, will you,' said Martin Beck. 'He's sure to need you down there.'

sa nodded cheerfully and went As Martin Beck knew how adept sa was, especially at establishing a relationship with the person she was questioning, he thought he would keep his conversation with Maud Lundin brief.

'I imagine you're upset and tired after what's happened,' he said. 'I won't trouble you for long, but I'd very much like to know what your relationship to Mr Petrus was. How long have you known each other?'

Maud Lundin tucked her hair behind her ears and looked at him steadily. 'For three years,' she said. 'We met at a party and he asked me out to dinner once or twice after that. That was in the spring. In the summer he was going to start filming, and he gave me a job in makeup. We went on meeting.'

'But you aren't working for him now?' asked Martin Beck. 'How long did you work for him?'

'Only on that one film. Then it was a while before he got started on a new production, and I got a good job in a beauty salon.'

'What sort of film did you work on?'

'It was a film made for export only. It hasn't been shown in Sweden.'

'What was it called?'

'Love in the Midnight Sun!

'How often did you and Mr Petrus meet?'

'About once a week. Sometimes twice. He usually came here, but sometimes we went out to eat and dance.'

'Did his wife know about your relationship?'

'Yes. But she didn't mind as long as he didn't divorce her.'

'Did he plan to?'

'Sometimes. Earlier. But I think he thought things were all right the way they were.'

'And what about you? Did you think things were all right?'

'I probably wouldn't have said no if he'd asked me to marry him, but on the whole I thought things were all right He was kind and generous.'

'Have you any idea who could have killed him?'

Maud Lundin shook her head. 'Not the slightest,' she said. 'It seems insane. I can't really believe it's happened.'

She was silent for a while and he looked at her. She seemed strangely unmoved.

'Is he still down there?' she asked finally.

'No, not any more.'

'Can I stay the night here, then?'

'No, we haven't completed the investigation yet'

She looked at him darkly and shrugged her shoulders. 'It doesn't matter,' she said. 'I can sleep in town.'

'How did he seem when you left him this morning?' asked Martin Beck.

'Like always. There was nothing special. I usually leave before him - he doesn't like rushing in the mornings. Sometimes we went to town together. He always took a cab when he was here, but I usually ride my bike to the station and take the train.'

'Why did he take a cab? He had a car, didn't he?'

'He didn't like driving. He's got a Bentley, but mostly other people drove him.'

'What other people?'

'His wife, or someone from the office. Sometimes the man who does his gardening.'

'How many employees are there in his office?'

'Only three. A man who looks after the accounts, a secretary, and someone who sees to the contracts and sales and so on. He hires extra people when he's producing a film, according to what's needed.'

'What sort of films did he produce?'

'Well, I don't quite know how to describe them. To be honest, they were p.o.r.nographic films. But very artistic ones. He made an ambitious film once, with good actors and all that. It was based on a famous novel, and I think it got a prize at a festival, too. But he didn't make much money from it'

'But now he was earning a lot of money from his films?'

'Yes, a lot He bought this house for me. And you should see his house in Djursholm. A real villa, with a huge garden and swimming pool and everything.'

Martin Beck began to understand what kind of person Walter Petrus had been, but he was not really sure about the woman beside him.

'Did you love him?' he asked.

Maud Lundin gave him an amused look. 'Frankly, no, I didn't. But he was kind to me. Spoiled me and didn't interfere with what I did when we weren't together.'

She sat silent for a moment, then said, 'He wasn't exactly handsome. Nor a particularly good lover. He had difficulty with his potency, if you know what I mean. I was married for eight years to a man who really was a man. He was killed in a car crash five years ago.'

'So you had other men, apart from Petrus.'

'Yes, now and then. When I met someone I liked.'

'And he wasn't ever jealous?'

'No, but he wanted me to tell him what it was like with the others. In detail. He liked that. I made most of it up to keep him happy.'

Martin Beck looked at Maud Lundin. She was sitting very erect and met his gaze calmly.

'Would it be fair to say that you were really only with him for his money?' he said.

'Yes, you could say that. But I don't regard myself as a wh.o.r.e, even if maybe you do. My need for money is great. I like things that money can buy. And it isn't easy for a woman of forty with no particular education to get money any other way than through a man. If I'm a wh.o.r.e, then so are most married women.'

Martin Beck got up. "Thank you for talking to me, and for being so honest.'

'You needn't thank me for that I'm always honest. May I go to my friend now? I'm tired.'

'Of course. Just tell Inspector Parsson where we can get in touch with you first, all right?'

Maud Lundin got up and picked up a small white leather bag that had been lying at the end of the bed. Martin Beck watched her leave the room. She held herself very erect and seemed calm and collected. Her long, powerful body was well built and strong, and she must have been a whole head taller than the fat little film director.

He thought about what she had said about money and what you could get with it. Walter Petrus had got a pretty good woman with his.