The Locked Room (36 page)

'Well, you've been in a much better position to appraise him than I have, both while he was on sick leave and these two weeks he's been on duty,' the National Police Commissioner said. 'How do you find him?'

'It depends what you mean,' Malm replied. 'Do you mean his state of health?'

'The doctors are the best judges of his physical condition. As far as I understand, he's recovered completely. Rather, I mean what impression you have of his psychological state.'

Superintendent Malm passed his hand over his well-combed locks. 'Hmm,' he said. 'I find it hard to say...'

Silence fell in the room, and the National Police Commissioner waited awhile for him to go on. Then he said with a trace of irri¬tation in his voice: 'I'm not asking you for a detailed psychiatric analysis. I merely thought you could tell me what sort of an impres¬sion he makes on you just now.'

'I haven't met him all that often, either, sir,' Malm said evasively.

'But you've more to do with him than I have,' the National Commissioner persisted. 'Is he really his old self?'

'You mean, like he was before he was wounded? No, maybe not. But of course he's been ill for some time and away from the job, and maybe it'll take a little while before he's back in harness again.'

'In what way do you think he's changed?'

Malm threw his boss an uncertain look and said: 'Well, not for the better, anyway. Of course he's always been a bit strange and difficult to understand. And naturally he's often been a bit too inclined to take matters into his own hands.'

The National Commissioner leaned forward and frowned: 'You think so? Well, I suppose it's true. But up to now his work has always produced good results. Are you implying that his high¬handedness has grown worse?'

'Well, sir, I don't know. After all, he's only been back at work a couple of weeks.''

'My impression is that he's absent-minded,' the National Commissioner said, 'that he's lost his sting. Just look at this latest investigation into the Bergsgatan death.'

'Yes,' Malm said. 'He's made a mess of that.'

'A scandalous mess. And not only that! The whole thing seems utterly confused. We can only be grateful the press hasn't shown any interest in the case. Admittedly, it's still not too late. The story can leak out, and that wouldn't be good for us; least of all for Beck.'

• 'I don't know what I should say,' Malm said. 'Some aspects of that investigation seem to be products of sheer fantasy. As for that alleged confession... well, one doesn't know what to think.'
  

The National Police Commissioner got to his feet, went over to the window, and looked out toward Agnegatan and the City Hall across the way. After a few minutes he went back to his chair, laid the palms of his hands on his desk, scrutinized his nails, and said: 'I've given a lot of thought to this Beck busi¬ness. And as you'll understand, it's been worrying me not least in view of our earlier decision to promote him to commissioner.'

He paused, and Malm waited attentively.

'Now this is howl see the matter,' the National Commissioner went on. 'Beck's manner of handling this Skold case...'

'Svärd,' Malm interposed. 'Svärd, his name was.'

'What's that? Ah yes, yes. Svärd then. Beck's behaviour seems to suggest he isn't quite balanced, or what do you say?'

'In a way he seems raving mad, I think,' said Malm.

'Oh, let's hope it isn't as bad as all that. But psychologically he's unbalanced, and my view is that we ought to wait and see whether this is permanent, or just a short-term effect of his illness.'

The National Commissioner lifted his hands an inch or so above the desk top and then let them fall again. 'In other words,' he said, 'in this situation I think it would be a bit risky to recommend his promotion. He'd better stay where he is, and we'll see how things turn out. His promotion, after all, has only been suggested. Nothing has gone up to the Board. So I suggest we quite simply drop the whole matter and for the time being let it rest. I've other suitable candidates to propose for that job, and Beck himself need never know his name was ever put forward, so no damage has been done. Shall we put it like that?'

'Yes, sir,' said Malm. 'I'm sure that's a sensible decision.'

The National Commissioner got up again, went over to the door, and opened it for Malm, who jumped up from his chair.

'I think so too,' the National Police Commissioner said and closed the door behind him. 'A most sensible decision.'

When, a couple of hours later, the rumour of his stymied promotion reached Martin Beck, he for once had to agree with one of the National Commissioner's utterances.

Unquestionably, the latter had made a singularly wise decision.

Filip Faithful Mauritzon was pacing his cell. He found it was phys¬ically impossible to sit still. His thoughts, too, found no rest. But as time had passed they'd become more simplified. Nowadays they limited themselves to a little set of questions.

What had happened, really?

And how?

To neither of these questions could he find an answer.

Already the guards who were keeping an eye on him had had a word with the prison psychiatrist. Next week they'd tell the chap¬lain too.

Mauritzon kept on asking for explanations. Explaining things was something the chaplain was good at. Maybe he could be of some use.

Now the prisoner was lying quite still in the dark. He couldn't sleep.

He thought:

What the devil happened, really? And how?

Someone must know. Who?