we?' he said. 'Mård's got a rotten alibi, or, rather, no alibi at all. And he has a history of violence. But does he have a motive?'
'Jealousy,' said Martin Beck.
'Of whom?'
'Bertil Mård could be jealous of the cat,' Allwright said, and laughed experimentally. 'And so, sure enough, they didn't have a cat' 'Not much to go on,' Kollberg said.
'Whoops,' said Allwright as Timmy took the ham sandwich out of his hand and gulped it down. Martin Beck burst out laughing.
'Down, Timmy!' Allwright said. 'What a police dog! It's a world
record. Did you see that? He just walked up and swiped my sand-
wich. Are you a football fan, Lennart?'
'No,' said Kollberg, laughing so hard his stomach was bouncing up and down.
'Well, then I'll skip that story,' Allwright said. 'And so that brings us to Folke.'
'Folke Bengtsson has no alibi at all and has a history of violence. But does he have a motive?'
"The motive would be that he's not all there,' Allwright said.
'In the case of the murder of Roseanna McGraw, the motive was very deep-rooted and complex,' said Martin Beck.
'Nonsense, Martin,' Kollberg said. 'There's something you and I never have discussed, but I've thought about a lot. You're convinced that Folke Bengtsson was guilty. I'm convinced of it too. But what sort of proof did we have? He confessed to you, of course, after I'd broken his arm, and after we'd lured him in like mad and trapped him. In the courtroom, he denied it. The only thing we could really prove was that he tried to rape, or possibly - but remember, possibly - strangle an undercover policewoman we had instructed to entice and seduce him, and who was practically naked when he entered her flat. I've always thought that in a society of laws, Folke Bengtsson would never have been convicted of the Roseanna murder. The evidence just wasn't good enough. Moreover, he was a mental case, but they didn't send him to a hospital, they put him in prison.'
'What are you getting at?'
'Don't you see? You and I and several other people, the judge who convicted him for one, were convinced that he was a murderer, but we didn't have any real proof. There's a hell of a difference.’
'He had her sunglasses, among other things.'
'A good defence lawyer would have made mincemeat out of our evidence. And a real court would have dismissed the case. In a society of laws...'
Kollberg stopped.
'Maybe Trinidad-Tobago is a society of laws,' Allwright said. 'No doubt,' Kollberg said.
'In any event, tomorrow we have to talk to Folke Bengtsson,' said Martin Beck, as if to change the subject to something more pleasant.
'Yes,' Allwright said. 'I reckon it's about time.'
'I think we'll have to hold some kind of press conference too,' Kollberg said. 'However dreadful that may sound.'
Martin Beck nodded gloomily.
'Press conference,' Allwright said. 'I've never held one of those before. And how are we going to handle Folke? Shall I ask him to come in here?'
'I'd rather talk to him in his own home,' said Martin Beck. 'And drive out there with a trail of reporters behind us?' Kollberg said.
'Yes, well, I suppose it can't be avoided,' said Martin Beck. 'Do we hold the press conference before or after?' 'After, I'd say.'
'And how do we know when Bengtsson will decide to be at home?' Kollberg said.
'I can tell you that,' said Allwright 'He leaves home at six in the morning and comes back at one in the afternoon. Then he goes out in the evening again and sets out his nets. He sticks to a schedule.'
'Okay, then we'll drive out there at one-fifteen,' Kollberg said. 'And we'll talk to the papers at three o'clock.'
Allwright appeared to be looking forward to an interesting and downright exciting day.
Martin Beck and Kollberg thought they knew better.
'You think we dare sneak over and go to bed?' said Kollberg, yawning.
"The restaurant's been closed for hours,' said Martin Beck optimistically. 'The ones who are still awake are probably having a card game
'Jealousy,' said Martin Beck.
'Of whom?'
'Bertil Mård could be jealous of the cat,' Allwright said, and laughed experimentally. 'And so, sure enough, they didn't have a cat' 'Not much to go on,' Kollberg said.
'Whoops,' said Allwright as Timmy took the ham sandwich out of his hand and gulped it down. Martin Beck burst out laughing.
'Down, Timmy!' Allwright said. 'What a police dog! It's a world
record. Did you see that? He just walked up and swiped my sand-
wich. Are you a football fan, Lennart?'
'No,' said Kollberg, laughing so hard his stomach was bouncing up and down.
'Well, then I'll skip that story,' Allwright said. 'And so that brings us to Folke.'
'Folke Bengtsson has no alibi at all and has a history of violence. But does he have a motive?'
"The motive would be that he's not all there,' Allwright said.
'In the case of the murder of Roseanna McGraw, the motive was very deep-rooted and complex,' said Martin Beck.
'Nonsense, Martin,' Kollberg said. 'There's something you and I never have discussed, but I've thought about a lot. You're convinced that Folke Bengtsson was guilty. I'm convinced of it too. But what sort of proof did we have? He confessed to you, of course, after I'd broken his arm, and after we'd lured him in like mad and trapped him. In the courtroom, he denied it. The only thing we could really prove was that he tried to rape, or possibly - but remember, possibly - strangle an undercover policewoman we had instructed to entice and seduce him, and who was practically naked when he entered her flat. I've always thought that in a society of laws, Folke Bengtsson would never have been convicted of the Roseanna murder. The evidence just wasn't good enough. Moreover, he was a mental case, but they didn't send him to a hospital, they put him in prison.'
'What are you getting at?'
'Don't you see? You and I and several other people, the judge who convicted him for one, were convinced that he was a murderer, but we didn't have any real proof. There's a hell of a difference.’
'He had her sunglasses, among other things.'
'A good defence lawyer would have made mincemeat out of our evidence. And a real court would have dismissed the case. In a society of laws...'
Kollberg stopped.
'Maybe Trinidad-Tobago is a society of laws,' Allwright said. 'No doubt,' Kollberg said.
'In any event, tomorrow we have to talk to Folke Bengtsson,' said Martin Beck, as if to change the subject to something more pleasant.
'Yes,' Allwright said. 'I reckon it's about time.'
'I think we'll have to hold some kind of press conference too,' Kollberg said. 'However dreadful that may sound.'
Martin Beck nodded gloomily.
'Press conference,' Allwright said. 'I've never held one of those before. And how are we going to handle Folke? Shall I ask him to come in here?'
'I'd rather talk to him in his own home,' said Martin Beck. 'And drive out there with a trail of reporters behind us?' Kollberg said.
'Yes, well, I suppose it can't be avoided,' said Martin Beck. 'Do we hold the press conference before or after?' 'After, I'd say.'
'And how do we know when Bengtsson will decide to be at home?' Kollberg said.
'I can tell you that,' said Allwright 'He leaves home at six in the morning and comes back at one in the afternoon. Then he goes out in the evening again and sets out his nets. He sticks to a schedule.'
'Okay, then we'll drive out there at one-fifteen,' Kollberg said. 'And we'll talk to the papers at three o'clock.'
Allwright appeared to be looking forward to an interesting and downright exciting day.
Martin Beck and Kollberg thought they knew better.
'You think we dare sneak over and go to bed?' said Kollberg, yawning.
"The restaurant's been closed for hours,' said Martin Beck optimistically. 'The ones who are still awake are probably having a card game
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