The Man Who Went Up in Smoke (Martin Beck, #2)

by Maj Sjöwall

They went on board and soon afterwards the boat set out, peacefully splashing in the dark current. Of all the types of engine-driven vessels yet constructed, there is none that moves so pleasantly as the paddle steamer.

If he took the sleeping tablets, he would be walking around as if in a trance the next morning: he knew this of old.

‘I worked with them on a case, two years ago. With someone called Kafka.’ ‘Sounds Czech.’