The Man Who Went Up In Smoke by Maj Sjöwall, Per Wahlöö Page A

down as she moved the nylon net. It held two things he recognized, namely the dark-blue bathing suit and the green rubber mask, as well as a rolled-up bath towel and a bottle of suntan oil.
    (Martin Beck, the born detective and famous observer, constantly occupied making useless observations and storing them away for future use. Doesn't even have bats in his belfry—they couldn't get in for all the crap in the way.)
    'Are you waiting for the boat too?"
    'Yes," he said. "But we're probably going in different directions."
    'I don't have anything special to do. I was thinking of going home, of course."
    'Have you been swimming?"
    (The art of deduction.)
    'Yes, of course. Why do you ask that?"
    (Well, that's a very good question.)
    'What have you done with your boyfriend today?"
    (What the hell has that got to do with me? Oh, it's just an interrogation technique.)
    'Tetz? He's gone. Anyway, he's not my boyfriend."
    'Oh, isn't he?"
    (Extremely spiritual.)
    'Just a boy I know. He stays at the boarding house now and again. He's a nice guy."
    She shrugged her shoulders. He looked at her feet. They were still short and broad with straight toes.
    (Martin Beck, the incorruptible, more interested in a woman's shoe size than the color of her nipples.)
    'Uh-huh. And now you're going home, are you?"
    (The wearing-them-down treatment.)
    'Well, I thought I would. I don't have anything special to do around this time of the summer. What are you going to do yourself?"
    'I don't know."
    (At last a word of truth.)
    'Have you been up to Gellért Hill to look at the view? From the Liberation Memorial?"
    'No."
    'You can see the whole city from there, as if it were on a tray."
    'Mm-m."
    'Shall we go there? Perhaps there'll even be a little breeze up there."
    'Why not?" said Martin Beck.
    (You can always keep your eyes open.)
    'Then we'll take the boat that's coming in now. You would have taken that one anyway."
    The boat was called Ifjugárda and had probably been built on the same design as the steamer he had been on the day before. The ventilators, however, were constructed differently and the funnel was slightly aft-braced.
    They stood by the railing. The boat slid swiftly midstream toward Margaret Bridge. Just under the arch, she said, "What's your name, by the way?"
    'Martin."
    'Mine's An. But you knew that before, didn't you—however that happened."
    He gave no reply to that, but after a while said, "What does this name mean—Ifjugárda?"
    'A member of the Youth Guard."
    The view from the Liberation Memorial lived up to her promise and more so. There was even a little breeze up there, too. They had gone all the way on the boat to the last stop in front of the famous Gellért Hotel, then walked a bit along a street named after Béla Bártok and finally got on a bus which slowly and laboriously had taken them to the top of the hill.
    Now they were standing on the parapet of the citadel above the monument. Beneath them lay the city, with hundreds of thousands of windows glowing in the late afternoon sun. They were standing so close to each other that he felt a light, brushing touch when she swung her body. For the first time in five days, he allowed himself to be caught thinking about something other than Alf Matsson.
    'There's the museum I work in, over there," she said. "It's closed during the summer."
    'Oh."
    'Otherwise I go to the university."
    'Uh-huh."
    They went down on foot, along twisting paths traversing the bank down to the river. Then they walked across the new bridge and found themselves close to his hotel. The sun had rolled down below the hills in the northwest and a soft, warm dusk had fallen over the river.
    'Well, what shall we do now?" said Ari Boeck.
    She held him lightly by his arm and swung her body playfully as they walked along the quay.
    'We could talk about Alf Matsson," said Martin Beck.
    The woman gave him a swift look of reproach, but the next moment was smiling as she said, "Yes, why not? How is he? Are you great