Free Cop Killer by Maj Sjöwall, Per Wahlöö Page A

dark blue tie. To this he had added a yellow stocking cap, a leather jacket with big shiny buttons and red and yellow embroidery on the sleeves, and, around his neck, a scarf in colours that even Martin Beck recognized as being those of the Malmö Football Club - white and sky blue. His jacket bulged on the right side as if he had a bottle of spirits in his pocket.
    When Martin Beck walked up to him he jumped as if bitten by a snake and immediately raised his hand to the nonexistent peak of his cap and delivered his report.
    'No one has left the building, Inspector.'
    Martin Beck stood silently for a moment in his amazement at being recognized. Then he reached out and took a corner of the scarf between thumb and forefinger.
    'Did your mother knit this for you?'
    'No, sir,' said the young man, blushing. 'She didn't. It was my little sister's boyfriend. His name is Enok Jansson, sir, and he's a terrific knitter, although he actually works at the post office and everything. He can even knit while he's watching TV.'
    'What if Mård's gone out the back way?'
    The recruit blushed still harder.
    'What?' he said. 'But that's impossible.'
    'It is?'
    'Well, sir, I can't stand in front of the house and behind it at the same time, after all. It can't be done. You... Sir, you're not going to report me for this?'
    Martin Beck shook his head. He crossed the street, wondering where the police force managed to find all these odd young men.
    'It's the right house, anyway,' the boy said, following him. 'I went over three times to check it out. It says Mård on the door.'
    'And it didn't change?'
    'No, sir. Shall I go in with you? I mean, I have a gun and everything if we need it And I've got my radio stuffed in my shirt - so no one could see it, I mean.'
    'Goodbye,' said Martin Beck, putting his finger on the bell.
    Bertil Mård opened the door almost before the bell had had a chance to ring.
    He too was wearing the trousers to a uniform, black ones, plus a vest and wooden dogs. The stink of last night's booze surrounded him like a wall, but it was mixed with the odour of aftershave, and in one of his huge hands he was holding a bottle of Florida Water and an open straight razor, which he waved in the direction of the recruit.
    'Who the hell is this damn clown,' he yelled, 'who's been standing here staring at the house for two hours?'
    'That's insulting an officer of the law,' the recruit said cockily.
    'I lay eyes on you one more time, you little plainclothes bastard, and I'll cut your ears off,' Mård bellowed.
    'And that's threatening an officer...'
    'Not at all,' said Martin Beck, closing the door behind him. 'Not at all...'
    'What do you mean, "not at all"?' Mård said. 'What the hell is this all about?'
    'Take it easy for a minute.'
    'I won't take it easy. I want to be left alone. And I don't want any damn kids in costumes spying on me. What's more, I'm in the habit of getting what I want. And who the hell are you? The head fucking cop himself?'
    'Exactly,' said Martin Beck.
    He took a couple of steps past Mård and glanced around the room. It smelled as if fifty people had slept there, and hardly as if they had been human. There were old quilts with grease spots and ragged stuffing nailed up in front of the windows, and they let in a very sparse light. But it was possible to turn up the corners and peer out. Against one wall was a bed that had obviously not been made for weeks, maybe months. Other than that, the furnishings consisted of four chairs, a table, and a large wardrobe. On the table was a glass and two bottles of 120-proof smuggled Russian vodka with blue labels, one of them empty and one of them half-full. There was a very large pile of dirty laundry in one corner, and through the rear door he could see out into the kitchen, where the mess was indescribable, and on into the bathroom, where an electric bulb was burning and where Mård had apparently just been shaving.
    'I've been in one hundred and eight countries,' Mård said.