The Terrorists by Maj Sjöwall, Per Wahlöö Page A

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 crazy. 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 pornographic 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 on it.”
    “But now he was earning a lot of money on 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 withhis 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.
    “Could you 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 whore, even if maybe you do. My