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newspapers,'
Winter said.
    'Did he really say he'd seen the actual newspapers?'
Bergenhem wondered.
    Winter sorted through the pile of papers in one of
the baskets on his desk and read the report on the interviews
Ringmar had submitted.
    Ringmar had asked: How do you know it was a
newspaper boy?
    Because he was carrying a bundle of newspapers and
went into one of the blocks of flats, and then I saw him
come out again and go into the next one, Smedsberg
had replied.
    Was there a trolley outside with more newspapers?
Ringmar had asked.
    Good, Winter thought. A good question.
    No. I didn't see a trolley. There could . . . No, I didn't
see one. But he was certainly carrying newspapers, that
was obvious, Smedsberg had answered.
    'Yes,' said Winter, looking at Bergenhem. 'He said
that this person was carrying newspapers and went in
and out of blocks of flats in Gibraltargatan.'
    'OK.'
    'But there was no trolley – don't they usually have
one?' Winter said.
    'I'll check,' said Bergenhem.
    'Check who the replacement was as well.'
    'Of course.'
    Winter lit his cigarillo again and exhaled smoke.
    'So, we might have a false newspaper boy here,
hanging around the area at the time of the attack,' he
said.
    'Yes.'
    'That's interesting. The question is: is it our man?
And if it isn't, what was he doing there?'
    'A loony?' Bergenhem suggested.
    'A loony playing at being a newspaper boy? Well,
why not?'
    'A mild form of loony.'
    'But if he is our man, surely he must have planned
it. A bundle of newspapers et cetera. On the spot at
that particular time.'
    Bergenhem nodded.
    'Did he know that Smedsberg would go that way?
Or did he know that somebody or other would come
past? That students often stagger over Mossen in the
early hours? In which case it could have been anybody.'
    'Why go to the trouble of lugging newspapers
around?' Bergenhem said. 'Wouldn't it have been enough
simply to hide?'
    'Unless he was using that disguise, or whatever we
should call it, that role , to establish some kind of security,'
Winter said. 'Melt into the background. Create an
atmosphere of normality. What could be more normal
at that time in the morning than a hardworking newspaper
boy?'
    'Maybe he even made contact,' Bergenhem said.
    Winter drew on his cigarillo again and watched it
growing murkier outside. The sun had wandered off
again.
    'That had occurred to me as well,' he said, looking
at Bergenhem.
    'Can't I ever have a thought of my own?' Bergenhem
wondered.
    'Well, you said it first,' said Winter with a smile.
    Bergenhem sat down and leaned forward.
    'Perhaps they spoke to each other. It's pretty harmless
to exchange a few words with a newspaper boy.'
    Winter nodded, and waited.
    'Perhaps they did make some sort of contact.'
    'Why didn't Smedsberg say anything about that?'
Winter asked.
    'Why do you think?'
    'Well, it's possible. Everything's possible. They
exchanged a few words. The lad continued on his way.
The newspaper boy carried on delivering.'
    'Come on, Erik. That can't have been what happened.
Smedsberg would have told us about it if it was.'
    'Give me another theory, then.'
    'I don't know. But if they made contact and exchanged
more than a few words, Smedsberg must be concealing
something from us.'
    'What would he be concealing from us if that's the
case?'
    'Well . . .'
    'Does he want to hide the fact that he spoke to a
stranger? No. He's an adult, and we are not his parents.
Does he want to hide the fact that he was a bit drunk
and doesn't want us to remind him and others of that
fact? No.'
    'No.' Bergenhem repeated Winter's word, knowing
where he was heading.
    'If this hypothetical reasoning leads us to wonder
what he wanted to hide, it might have to do with his
orientation,' Winter said.
    'Yes,' Bergenhem agreed.
    'So what is he trying to hide from us?' Winter inhaled
again and looked at Bergenhem.
    'That he's gay,' said Bergenhem. 'He made some kind
of contact, this false newspaper boy responded positively,
maybe they were heading for