Martin Beck: The Locked Room Part 27

'You could have reported Svard for blackmail 'Of course. And been put away for several years myself. No. There was only one thing I could do. Pay up. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d gave up his job and used me as some kind of a pension fund.'

'But in the end you'd had enough of it?'

'Yes.' Mauritzon twisted his handkerchief nervously between his fingers. 'Between ourselves,' he said. 'Wouldn't you have, too? Do you know how much I paid that guy?'

'Yes. Fifty-four thousand kronor.'

You seem to know everything,' Mauritzon said. 'Say, can't you take over that bank robbery from those lunatics out there?'

'That, perhaps, would be difficult,' Martin Beck said. 'But you didn't pay up without protest, did you? Now and again you threatened him?'

'How can you know that? A year or so ago I began thinking of all that money I'd paid to that thief over the years. Last winter I got in touch with him.'

'How?'

'I met him in town and told him to stop it. But the old skinflint just said I knew what would happen if the money wasn't paid in on time.'

'What would happen?'

'He'd rush straight to the police. Admittedly this business with the case of liqueur was ancient history. But that wouldn't have stopped the police from snooping into my affairs. Some of what I was busy with wasn't legal. Besides, I found it hard to explain why I'd gone on paying him all these years.'

'Anyway, Svard told you something to calm you down, didn't he? He said he'd die soon.'

Mauritzon sat silent a long while. Has Svard told you all that? Or have you got it in writing?' 'No.'

'Are you some kind of a mind reader, or what?' Martin Beck shook his head.

'Then how can you know every d.a.m.n detail? He said he had cancer in his guts and wouldn't live longer than six months. Anyway, I reckon he was a bit scared. And I thought to myself, if I've been keeping him for six years, six months more one way or the other doesn't matter.'

'When did you last speak to him?'

'It was in February. The way he was whining and complaining, you'd have thought I was some kind of a d.a.m.n relation. He said he was going into the hospital - the "death factory", he called it. The radium clinic, that is. He seemed finished. Just as well, I thought to myself.'

'But you called up the hospital and checked?'

'Yeah. He wasn't there. They said he was in some clinic south of town. Then I began to suspect something was up.'

'I see. So you called up the doctor there and said Svard was your uncle.'

'There doesn't seem much sense in my telling you anything, does there? I can't say anything you don't know already.' 'Oh yes...'

'And what might that be?'

'What name you gave, for example.'

'Svard, obviously. How could I be the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's nephew if I didn't call myself Svard? Haven't you thought that one out?' Mauritzon threw Martin Beck a glance of happy surprise.

'No, as a matter I hadn't. You see?'

Some kind of relations.h.i.+p was beginning to grow up between them.

'The doctor I talked to said the old boy was well and certainly wouldn't kick the bucket for another twenty years. I reckoned that...' He fell silent Martin Beck made a swift calculation and said: 'That would mean a hundred and eighty thousand kronor more.'

'Okay, okay. I give up. You're too clever for me. That same day I paid in the money for March, so that the d.a.m.n deposit slip would be lying there waiting for him when he got home. At the same time... Well, d'you know what I did at the same time?'

You decided it was to be the last time.'

'Precisely. I'd heard he was going to leave the hospital on Sat.u.r.day, and as soon as he stuck his nose in the shop to buy his lousy cat food I grabbed him and told him it was all over. But he was just as impudent as always, said I knew what would happen if he didn't get a notification from the bank on the twentieth of next month at the latest. Yet he was really scared, even so. For d'you know what he did then?'

'He moved.'

'Of course you knew that too. And what I did then?' 'Yes.'

There was a moment's silence. Martin Beck reflected that the tape recorder really was completely soundless. Before receiving his visitor he'd checked that it was working and put on a new reel. Now he must choose his tactics.

Martin Beck said: Yes, I know that too, as I've said. By and large we can regard this conversation as over.'

Mauritzon looked obviously upset. Wait a moment,' he said. 'Do you really know?'

'Sure.'

'Because, you see, I don't. d.a.m.n it, I don't even know whether the old boy's alive or dead. And this is where the spooky stuff begins.'

'Spooky stuff?'

'Yeah, and since then everything has gone to... yes, gone to h.e.l.l, you might say. And in two weeks' time I'll be sentenced to life for something only the devil himself could have fixed up. There's no G.o.ddam sense in it.'

You're from Smland.'

'Yeah, didn't you notice it until now?'

'No.'

'That's odd. You who understand everything. Well, and what did I do?'

'First you tracked down Svard's new flat'

'Yeah, that was simple. I kept an eye on him for a few days, noticed when he went out, and so forth. It wasn't often. And the blind was always down, even when he was airing out the flat in the evenings. I checked on that, too.'

'Checked' was an 'in' word; everyone was using it to death. It had begun with children and then spread to almost everyone in Sweden. Even Martin Beck used it sometimes, though he did his best to speak pure Swedish.

You thought you'd give Svard a real fright If worst came to worst you'd kill him.'

'I didn't much care which. But he was hard to get at. So I thought up a simple way of doing it. Of course you already know which way I mean?'

'You thought you'd shoot him through his window, either when he opened it to air the flat or else as he closed it'

'There you are, you see! Those were the only times he showed himself. And I found an ideal spot. Obviously you know where.'

Martin Beck nodded.

'I can just imagine it. There's only one place if one doesn't want to go into the house. The slope up to the park on the other side of the street. Svard opened his window at nine every evening and shut it at ten. So I went there to put a bullet into the old guy'

'Which day?'

'Monday the seventeenth. I did it instead of going to the bank, as it were. Ten in the evening. Now the spooky stuff begins. You don't believe me? h.e.l.l, I can't prove it. But first let me check up on something. D'you know what I thought I'd do him in with?'

'Yes. A forty-five automatic - Llama 9-A.' Mauritzon put his head in his hands and said: 'You're in this conspiracy too. That's something, as far as I see, that you couldn't possibly know. Yet you do. It's uncanny.'

'So that the shot wouldn't attract people's attention, you put a silencer on it'

Mauritzon nodded, amazed.

'I a.s.sume you made it yourself. The usual type, which can only be used once.'

Yeah, yeah, that's right,' said Mauritzon. 'That's right, that's right, that's right But now you tell me what happened.'

You begin,' said Martin Beck. 'And I'll explain the rest'

'Well, I went there. Drove there in my own car. It was dark. Not a soul about Inside the flat the light was out. The window was open. The blind down. I took up my position on the slope. After a few minutes I looked at my watch: 9:58. Everything turns out precisely as I'd imagined. The G.o.ddam old b.a.s.t.a.r.d pushes the blind aside, appears in the window, and I expect he thought he'd close it. As it happened, though, I still hadn't quite made up my mind. But I suppose you know that'

'You hadn't made up your mind whether you'd kill Svard or just warn him with a shot in the arm or maybe in the window frame.'

'Self-evident' said Mauritzon in despair. 'That you know that, too, is self-evident After all, these are just things I thought to myself and which were never anywhere except inside here.' He thumped his knuckles against his forehead.

'But in a flash you make up your mind.'

'Yeah. Seeing him standing there I think to myself it's just as well to put an end to him once and for all. So I fire.' He fell silent.

'What happened?'

'Well, what happened then? I don't know. It seems impossible that I could have missed, though at first I thought so. He disappears, and to me it looks as though the window is being shut. Quick as can be. The blind's hanging down. Everything looks as it usually does.'

'What did you do then?'

'I drove home. What the h.e.l.l else could I do? Then, day after day, I look at the newspapers; but there's nothing in them. Everything seems incomprehensible - so I thought then. But it's nothing compared to what I'm thinking now.'

'How was Svard standing when you fired?'

'Leaning forward a bit, and his right arm raised. He must have been holding the window hook with one fist and leaning against the sill with the other.'

'Where did you get the gun from?'

'Some guys I know had bought some weapons abroad, on an export licence. I arranged for them to be brought into the country. At the same time I thought it might be a good idea to have a gun myself. So I bought an extra pistol. They already had one. I'm no expert on firearms, but I thought it looked okay.'

'Are you sure you hit Svard?'

'Course I am. Anything else is unthinkable. But all the rest is beyond me. Why hasn't anyone ever bothered about it, for example? I used to drive past and take a look up at the window. Always just as closed, with the blind still pulled down. So I began to wonder whether I hadn't missed, even so. After that the strangest things began happening. Oh my G.o.d, what a mess. I don't understand a thing. And then here you are, all of a sudden, and understand everything.'

'Some things I reckon I can explain,' said Martin Beck. 'May I ask you a few questions, just for a change?'

'Of course. Go ahead.' 'First, did I hit the b.a.s.t.a.r.d?' 'Yes. You killed him on the spot'

'That's something anyway. I'd begun to think he must be sitting in the next room here, reading a newspaper, laughing till he p.i.s.sed in his pants.'

'So,' said Martin Beck seriously, 'you've committed a murder.' 'I suppose so,' said Mauritzon, unconcernedly. 'That's what those bright boys in there are saying, too. My lawyer, for instance.' 'Any other questions?'

'Why didn't anyone bother about him being dead? There hasn't been a line in the papers.'

'Svard wasn't found until long afterwards. At first various circ.u.mstances suggested that he had committed suicide.'

'Suicide?'

'Yes, the police are careless too, sometimes. The bullet had hit him from directly in front, which is understandable because at that moment he was leaning forward. And the room where he was lying had been locked from inside, the window too.'

'He must have pulled it after him as he fell, and the hook dropped into the ring.'

'That's the conclusion I've come to, too. More or less. Anyone who's. .h.i.t by such a high-calibre projectile would be flung several yards backwards. Even if Svard wasn't exacdy holding the window hook, it could very well have fallen into place when the window slammed shut I've seen similar things. Quite recendy.' Martin Beck smiled to himself. 'And so the whole affair's pretty well cleared up,' he said.

'Pretty well cleared up? How could you know what I was thinking just before I fired?'

'That,' said Martin Beck, 'was pure guesswork. Anything more you want to ask about?'

Mauritzon stared at him in amazement. 'Anything more? Are you making fun of me?'

'Not in the least.'

'Then would you be so good as to explain the following: That evening I drove straight home. I put the gun in an old bag I'd filled with stones. Then I shook it up, dead thorough, and put it in a safe place. First I take off the silencer and hammer it out flat. It was the kind you can only use once, but I hadn't made it myself. As you said, I'd bought it with the automatic. Next morning I drive to the station and take the train to Sodertalje. On the way I walk into a house like any other house and chuck the silencer into the refuse chute. I don't even recall exactly which house it was. At Sodertalje I get my motor boat, which I keep moored there. I bring it up to Stockholm and arrive in the evening. Next day I take the bag with the automatic and head the boat out to sea - towards Vaxholm - and I chuck the bag overboard. In the deepest part of the channel.'

Martin Beck frowned.

'All that I know for certain I've done,' said Mauritzon excitedly. 'No one can get into my flat while I'm away. No one has ever had a key to it. And just before I settied my account with Svard I told the very few acquaintances who know where I live that I'd gone to Spain.'

'Did you?'

'But dammit, there you sit, even so, knowing everything. You know all about the automatic, which quite obviously can't be lying anywhere except at the bottom of the sea. You knew all that about the silencer, too. Will you please be so d.a.m.n kind now as to explain all this.'

Martin Beck pondered. Finally he said: 'You must be in error somewhere.'

'Error? But haven't I told you all this in detail? h.e.l.l, I know what I do, don't I? Or ...' Mauritzon began laughing shrilly. He broke off suddenly and said: 'You're just sitting there fooling me, you too. And don't kid yourself I'm going to repeat all this in court.'

Again the man began laughing uncontrollably.

Martin Beck got up, opened the door, waved to the constable on duty, and said: Im finished. For the moment, anyway.'

Mauritzon was led out. Still laughing. It sounded unpleasant.

Martin Beck opened the drawer of the desk, rewound the tape, took it in his hand, and went out to the special squad. Ronn and Kollberg were there.