Authors: Hans Olav Lahlum
‘But was this Jens Rune Meier really the Dark Prince, then?’
Patricia shook her head, but took the time to help herself to some more meat before answering. There was certainly nothing wrong with her appetite any more.
‘We’re on less firm ground there. But lots of pieces fall into place if Jens Rune Meier had to die not because he was the Dark Prince, but because he knew who the Dark Prince was.
Particularly if my theory of who the Dark Prince was is correct.’
Patricia chewed happily for a minute before looking up at me. I was still so confused by this sudden change in scenario that it was all I could do to ask who had killed Hans Petter Nilsen and
Bjørn Varden then, according to her theory. The answer was like a punch in the stomach.
‘Magdalon Schelderup, of course. You are forgetting to eat,’ Patricia remarked. It was only then that I woke from my trance-like condition.
‘What extraordinary reasoning. You have surpassed yourself. But we cannot be sure about that.’
Patricia nodded thoughtfully.
‘No. But we are starting to get to know the quite remarkable Magdalon Schelderup rather well, following his death. He thought, as his sister said, more like a player than a normal person.
He would sooner change the wind than his coat. But if the wind was not for changing, he would swiftly turn his coat. And it is quite obvious that this is what he did in 1941. Whether he went so far
as to kill two members of the Resistance is, however, not so clear. There are other possible explanations.’
‘That Magdalena Schelderup was the Dark Prince, for example?’ I asked. It was a theory that I had found hard to dismiss, particularly given the information that the wartime
fiancé who had let her down was one of those murdered. It was tempting to think that arresting her for the two old murders and two new ones would tie up all the loose threads in this
extraordinary case.
Patricia nodded.
‘For example, yes. Or Herlofsen. Or Wendelboe. Or even Mrs Wendelboe or Ingrid, Magdalon Schelderup’s wife at the time. Keep a note of anything you find of interest when you speak to
Mona Varden and others tomorrow. But in the meantime, Magdalon Schelderup is at the top of my list of suspects for the two murders. And I would double the odds on him. He obviously seems to have
known who else was in the group when he contacted Wendelboe on the way home from Wiig’s birthday. Again, the chronology fits suspiciously well. In spring 1941 there was great optimism on the
German side, and the outcome was not yet clear. From a player’s perspective, it makes perfect sense that Magdalon Schelderup engaged in a secret operation for the Germans. In autumn 1941, the
campaign in the Soviet Union still looked unexpectedly promising for the Germans. This may have inspired Schelderup to carry out another murder and, for example, tell his contact that he had joined
the group as a double agent.’
I had to agree to the logic in this, but still found it hard to accept that Magdalon Schelderup was the Dark Prince. We agreed to hold the option open in anticipation of further information.
‘What about the other incident from the war, the mystery of what happened on Liberation Day?’ I asked.
Patricia put down her cutlery and leant forwards across the table.
‘That is also of increasing interest. There is a possible connection to the other murders in that it happened in the house of the liquidated NS man. There is also one striking detail that
the police do not seem to have noticed. But let us wait with that and the other stories from the war until tomorrow. In the meantime, try to find not only Mona Varden, but also the mentally
disturbed Resistance man, Arild Bratberg, who supposedly killed Ole Kristian Wiig. If you find Bratberg, and if he is not too mad to answer some questions, then ask him the same question that you
asked Wendelboe: that is, whether Wendelboe or any of the others we know have contacted him in recent years. There were five people around the table who had been there during the war and all of
them could have strong motives for murder if they, rightly or not, suspected Magdalon Schelderup of wartime crimes. So please try to find this Arild Bratberg.’
I promised to do that.
‘And what about the murder of Leonard Schelderup?’
Patricia sighed deeply.
‘It is a shame to bring it up now when we are having such a nice time, but it really is unavoidable. I think that we are closer to solving the mystery of what happened during the war and
the murder of Magdalon Schelderup than we are to solving the new mystery of Leonard’s death. I have a couple of theories about who might have visited him last night, but still lack the
information to confirm or disprove them. The witness account from the lady next door is important, but at the same time so full of holes when it comes to numbers, time and gender that there is not
much to build on. The only person we know for certain was there and had a key is the mother, but that can be dismissed more or less out of hand. It is highly unlikely, both rationally and
emotionally, that she would have killed her only child, especially when she might have earned millions more by murdering him a year earlier. It is difficult to see a motive for murdering Leonard,
especially when both the mother and daughter at Schelderup Hall have an alibi. And Synnøve Jensen and Fredrik Schelderup were both too happy with their inheritance to want to murder someone
in the hope of gaining a few million more.’
‘Or perhaps Synnøve Jensen, if she and Leonard were having a relationship and had conspired to kill his father,’ I ventured.
Patricia heaved a heavy sigh.
‘But they obviously were not,’ she said.
‘Even though I can see no reason why, could the murderer perhaps have been someone from outside the family, with no connection whatsoever to Magdalon Schelderup’s death? The hairs
and fingerprints show that someone else had been there recently. And the mysterious guest has still not been identified,’ I added.
Patricia lightened up, and laughed her not entirely sympathetic laugh. Then she smiled secretively.
‘I shouldn’t laugh; after all, murder is a serious thing. Of course the person who was not only in the flat, but also in the bed, was an outsider. I don’t know who it was, but
I do know what happened. What is more, I think I know how you might get hold of this mysterious guest, if that is of interest. None of it is directly linked to the murder, though. But it might
still be of interest to talk to the person who left the fingerprints and the hairs in the flat yesterday.’
I stared at Patricia in fascination and nodded eagerly. With what could have passed for a shrug, she picked up her notebook and wrote down a short text, the content of which was: ‘The
police request that the person who visited the deceased Leonard Schelderup in his home in Skøyen on Sunday, 12 May between 10 p.m. and midnight, please contact Oslo Police Station as soon as
possible. This person is not suspected of being connected with his death in any way, but must be cleared from the case.’
‘Ask for this to be read out on the radio tomorrow, and I would be very surprised if you do not hear from the person in question pretty soon thereafter. The person will no doubt be
following news of the case closely.’
I looked at Patricia with some scepticism and pensively stroked my finger over the last sentence.
‘But, my dear Patricia, the person who visited Leonard Schelderup yesterday will naturally not contact us if he or she was, despite what we think, party to the murder. The opposite is more
likely to happen. The person will not contact us for fear of being unfairly suspected of being involved in the murder. And possibly for fear of a public scandal.’
When I said the latter, my head finally started to clear.
‘Because we are talking about some secret lady love, are we not?’
Patricia sighed.
‘I thought the situation would be clear to any intelligent person under forty. But apparently that is not the case. Secret lady love or something of the sort is certainly an acceptable
general description, yes. But that is only down to luck, really.’
I was not entirely sure what age or luck had to do with it, but nodded in agreement and took it to mean that we were talking about a lover. How Leonard Schelderup had met this lady was
interesting enough in itself.
‘But how can you be so certain that this outsider, who left proof of their presence in the flat yesterday, did not murder Leonard Schelderup?’
Patricia sighed again.
‘Theoretically it is not impossible. But the very reason that Leonard Schelderup did not want police protection was clearly that he was expecting a visit from this person, and wanted it to
go ahead as planned. He would hardly have done that if it was someone who might have a motive for killing him. It is of course possible to make mistakes. If any theory that it was an outsider with
no connection to Schelderup Hall was to hold water, however, it would, to put it mildly, be hard to explain how this person managed to get hold of the revolver from the gun cabinet at Schelderup
Hall.’
I had known that, just forgotten it – or so I hoped. Fortunately, Patricia was on a roll and promptly carried on.
‘Here is something to cheer you up: the investigation may in fact uncover a criminal alliance. But if that were the case, it would not in any way be linked to the murder, and would not be
something that you or anyone else at the police station would wish to pursue through the courts in the given situation. And if we return to things that are of greater interest, in terms of the
murder, the most striking thing in this case is in fact the murder weapon,’ she added, swiftly.
I felt somewhat at sea, but still made a feeble attempt to protest.
‘But surely that is the most obvious fact? You yourself just said that the revolver found at the scene of the crime was the murder weapon and that someone had taken it there from
Schelderup Hall?’
Patricia nodded.
‘So far so good. But why on earth did the murderer leave the gun lying on the floor by the front door? If you can give me one credible reason for that, I am almost certain that I could
promise to find out who it was within twenty-four hours.’
Unfortunately, I could not. I had not given the position of the revolver much thought until Patricia mentioned it now, whereas she clearly had.
‘This was in no way a crime of passion. It would seem that the murderer stole the gun from Schelderup Hall with the intention of using it to shoot Leonard Schelderup. It might of course be
smart to take the murder weapon away with you in order to avoid leaving any clues. Or, one could leave the weapon beside Leonard Schelderup’s dead body, which would also open up the
possibility of suicide. But why on earth did the murderer take the gun out of the room, only to leave it by the front door of the flat? Say, for a moment, that the murderer was very absent-minded
and forgot to leave the gun behind and only realized this on reaching the front door, the most logical thing would then be to go back and leave it by the body. There are of course several possible
motives here, that one or other of the inheritors wants to increase their share, or that there is an avenger out there who, having killed Magdalon Schelderup, has now started on his children. But
neither of these alternatives give any reason to leave the murder weapon in such a peculiar place. So I simply do not have a clue what to make of the murder of Leonard Schelderup.’
The maid came into the room at this point and Patricia demonstratively kept her lips closed.
‘Excuse me, but are you Beate or Benedikte?’ I asked the maid as she approached with the dessert. I should not have done that. She looked questioningly at Patricia, who chose to
answer on her behalf.
‘That is most definitely Beate. And, may I add, she is the only one you will see here now, because if Benedikte was here you would have no problem telling them apart.’
Patricia sighed and shook her head in exasperation, while the colour drained from Beate’s face and she looked as though she wished she was anywhere other than here. I could of course not
help but ask what had happened to Benedikte. And I should not have done that either. Patricia immediately transformed into a gossiping teenage girl. And a rather self-centred and unbearable one at
that.
‘Well, would you believe what the ninny has managed to do now? She let the latest of her halfwit boyfriends get her pregnant and so will now be busy with the preparations, delivery and
consequences of childbirth for the entire summer. It is very tempting to say that she made the bed so she could lie in it. But it is Beate and I who have to bear the brunt of it, Beate because she
now has to work every day for the whole summer, and me because the help I get will not be so good!’
Sometimes I seriously doubted whether Patricia was actually joking or not. This was one such time. I sat there, waiting for the laughter that never came. Patricia composed herself and apologized
for her outburst. But she still looked more irritated than self-deprecating when she added: ‘It is all very inconvenient for me, just before summer. And I could never bear little children,
not even when I was one myself. Excessive IQ is really not a problem in that family. Let us hope that Beate is smarter than her sister, though she barely knows what IQ is, all the same.’
Beate’s face blanched even more and she made a hasty exit as soon as she had gathered up the plates.
There were times when I wondered whether Patricia was serious, but knew that she could be truly horrible. And this was certainly such an occasion. But at such a critical stage in a murder
investigation, it would perhaps not be prudent to raise the issue. So I took the episode as another example of how self-centred Patricia could be, and how vulnerable she became when the order in
her domestic universe was threatened. In order to lighten the situation as swiftly as possible, I quickly asked how she knew the Wendelboes’ telephone number off by heart.
‘I have memorized the numbers of all those involved. You have nothing to fear, though, I will most definitely leave all direct contact with them to you. I have always found it easy to
remember numbers, and being able to keep telephone numbers in my head has proved – as just demonstrated – to be very practical.’